Page 34 of Stolen Dreams

“Don’t be nervous, Dad. You’re the best cook ever.” He tugs me toward the door. “Everyone will love you.”

With such a simple statement, a weight lifts from my shoulders. Tucker makes me feel like I can take on the world. He and the other kids are why I am here. They are my priority. If they’re happy, so am I.

The restaurant is too quiet as we weave through the employee area in the back. We pass linen storage, followed by the back-of-the-house server stations. I guide Tucker down a short hall that leads to the kitchen and point out the walk-in cooler and freezer. He stares wide-eyed at the large door when I tell him we have to wear winter coats if we are in there more than a couple minutes.

“Hey, little man,” Fin says as we enter the kitchen. “So cool you get to hang out with us all summer.” Fin holds out a fist and Tucker bumps it with his own.

Tucker points to his name embroidered on his chef’s coat. “It’s just like yours and Dad’s,” he says with so much pride it makes my chest ache. “I’m never taking it off.”

Fin squats until he’s eye level with Tucker. He brushes off Tucker’s shoulders, smooths down the sleeves, and double-checks the buttons. “Just remember”—Fin holds Tucker’s gaze—“appearances are important when you’re a chef. Messes are expected, but we always want to look our best.” He tugs on the bottom of Tucker’s coat. “And that means you need to wear an apron to protect your clothes or wash your coat every day.”

Tucker’s expression turns serious. “Promise I’ll look my best, Mr. Fin.”

“Good man.” And then Fin sweeps Tucker off his feet, clutches him to his chest, and digs his fingers in his rib cage. “Now, let’s have some fun.”

“Sss… sss…” Tucker snort-laughs as he swats at Fin’s hands. “Stop it.”

God, his laughter is infectious. My little man may have been through a lot already, but he still has an air of innocence. And damn, do I want him to have it as long as possible.

After a minute, Fin plants Tucker on his feet. “Come on, bud. Let’s go set up before everyone gets here.”

Without another word, Tucker follows Fin to the classroom to help organize the tables.

While he’s distracted, I go to the office, review schedules and checklists, and talk with André about how we can balance prepping for the cooking classes, kitchen, and events. Although the kids will be doing most of the work, we still need to prepare some of the ingredients in the main kitchen outside of class hours, store the ingredients, and mark them so staff don’t accidentally use them.

Quarter after eight, André and I head for the front. He unlocks the door and a handful of students come in, their parents waving and promising to return in a few hours. Fin and Tucker appear long enough to lead the new arrivals to the classroom.

As I linger near the door, I can’t help but scan the parking lot for Kaya. André does one last review of what we will do with the kids today. But the moment I spot her powder-blue SUV, I don’t hear a word he says.

Kaya exits her car, and I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat.

Damn.

A pair of soft-apricot palazzo pants sit high on her hips and draw attention to her legs. The pristine-white scoop neck top shows a hint of her collarbones, and I lick my lips. But it’s the white sneakers that tie it all together and give her an effortlessly casual energy. In the sun, her loosely braided dark hair has subtle red undertones.

“Chef Calhoun.”

I blink a couple times and turn my attention to André. “Sorry, Chef.”

He chuckles. “Maybe I need to work more of these classes with you.” He nudges me with his elbow. “Make sure you’re actually teaching the kids instead of eyeing the assistant.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “You know I’d love to have you at my side every time I’m in the kitchen.”

“That I do.” He clears his throat. “I said we should video a little of each class, snap some photos, and post them online. Create more buzz for future classes and the restaurant other than an article in the Gazette. Show us instructing but edit out faces of the students.”

Distracted, I only hear half of what he says as my gaze flits back to Kaya as she enters the valet loop. “Brilliant idea,” I say, my eyes still on her. “If we get any shots of the kids, maybe we can make a video for the parents. A nice keepsake.”

André pats my shoulder as he takes a step away. “Fin promised to film a little each week when he helps. Maybe you can ask your… assistant if she’d mind taking pictures and recording a few videos.”

The way he saysassistantmakes me want to slap him—in a playful way, of course.

“I’ll be sure to ask,” I say, not giving him any more fuel.

As she nears the door, André crosses the restaurant. “Can’t wait for you to introduce her.”

I roll my eyes, take a deep breath, and plaster on my best smile as I open the door for Kaya. “Good morning. Please, come in.”

“Ulaakut. Good morning.” Kaya steps past me and surveys the restaurant. “I’m not late, am I?”

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