Page 1 of Don't You Want Me, Baby?

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‘Seriously Brad, I don’t care how many Michelin star restaurants they’ve backed, we had plans. You keep doing this lately, and it’s starting to get right on my?—’

Amber sagged against the panelled wall, phone to her chin as she kept one ear out for customers and the other listening to her other half apologise. Again. Lately, the majority of their interactions was her sounding like a nagging partner, and him making excuses and promising things he never delivered on.When did I become this person? I always said I wouldn’t be like this, for anyone. With anyone. Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost myself.

‘I can’t help it, Amber. I said I was sorry. You know I have to jump on these things when they happen. It’s all part of the plan.’

Ah, the plan. Of course. Everything revolved around the plan. His plan.‘I know, Brad, but it’s my only night off this week. It’s a bit short notice to make other arrangements. I was looking forward to it, that’s all.’

Sharon nudged her out of the storeroom doorway, boxes of crisps and bar snacks stacked in her hands. As she caught Amber’seye she mouthed ‘Again?’, motioning to the phone. Amber shrugged, Sharon shooting her an apologetic look back.

‘I am sorry, baby. I know I’ve been pretty absent lately, but it won’t be forever. Once the new place is up and running, I’ll have more time. Sloane’s is practically running itself now that the staff are in place. It’s the eatery that’s taking all my time up.’ Another thing Amber was sick of hearing about. Sloane’s Eatery was the next jewel in her boyfriend’s crown. Tyler said it was a dumb name, and the more she heard it, the harder she agreed with her best friend. ‘The investors are making me jump through all kinds of hoops to secure the funding I need. I’m close, Amber. Once that’s done, we’re golden.’

‘I know,’ she sighed heavily, feeling drained by the conversation. Déjà vu was tiring, apparently. Maybe he was right, though. She just needed to be patient. A skill she’d perfected of late. ‘I get it. It’s just been a while since we spent any time together.’

His chuckle made her stomach flip with unease. Was he really not bothered about this? I guess it was easier when you weren’t the sad sap waiting for the other to show up. She could imagine him on the other end, driving in his car. Off to the next big meeting, tailored suit as immaculate as the rest of him. ‘I slept over the other night. You saw enough of me then, didn’t you?’

‘Two weeks ago. I mean out, Bradley,’ she chided, the irritation ebbing away at his sultry tone. ‘You know, in public. With clothes on.’

‘Yeah, but that’s not as much fun.’

‘True.’ She smiled. The service bell rang from the kitchen. It was getting to the lunchtime rush. ‘I’ll give you points for trying to make me horny instead of mad.’

‘What can I say,’ he breathed, voice low, ‘it’s a skill.’ Brad’s call waiting started to beep, cutting through their little moment. ‘Sorry babe, I need to take this. Have a good night, okay? I’ll call you.’

‘Okay, I lo?—’

The call had already dropped.Great.Her one night off and she’d been stood up. She went back through to the bar, where Sharon was filling one of the wicker baskets on the back wall with crinkly packets of pork scratchings.

‘Let me guess. He’s made last-minute plans, so you’re flying solo again.’

Amber shoved her phone into one of the drawers under the till. ‘Yep. Some Michelin starred place in Harrogate is opening tonight; his investors invited him. He needs to keep impressing them ’til they sign off on the eatery.’ The kitchen bell went again. ‘I’ll get that.’ Sharon had made no move to answer it anyway; she was too busy winking at the blokes who’d just walked up to the bar from the nearby construction site. ‘Shaz?’

Her best mate’s head snapped back to her. ‘Eh? Oh yeah, cheers. I’ll cover the bar.’

Amber pushed her way through the kitchen doors and was greeted by the jingle of pots and pans, Tyler calling out orders in his usual gruff way from behind the stainless-steel counter.

‘Ben, that last steak could have walked off the bloody plate. They said medium rare, not raw! Fix it, please.’

‘Yes, chef.’ Ben scurried to grab the plate Tyler had slid back down the serving counter. ‘Sorry, chef.’

Amber checked the dockets. Laid out in precise order, it was easy to spot. ‘That bell for table eight?’

Tyler shot her a dogged look. She could see the tufts of his thick, dark hair peeking out under the brim of his chef’s hat. A tell-tale sign that her head chef was annoyed. He tended to play with his hat when he was feeling a big jangly in the nerves. Which was usually when he was in the kitchen. The Lazy Slug might be a smallish, country-style pub in the heart of Yorkshire, but Tyler ran it like Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen with marginally lessswearing. Inwardly, she pondered to herself why she seemed to be surrounded by competitive, perfectionist men, blokes whose egos seemed to be tied to their chef’s aprons. Bradley might not beinthe kitchen any more, but they were both similar in their passions for the food hospitality industry. That was where the similarities ended. Bradley was a suit and tie man, Mr Life and Soul of the Party. He thrived on schmoozing any room he entered. And Tyler? Well – he was Tyler. Gruff. Sparing with his words until people got to know him. The first couple of months he’d worked there, she wasn’t even sure he had teeth, he smiled so seldom.

Their looks were opposites too. Tyler was tattooed. Burly. Broad where Brad was lean. While Bradley was the dapper, lithe gent, her best male friend was more the grunty lumberjack. Bradley bragged about his life; Tyler kept his cards a little closer to his chest.Mr Mystery.Still, these days she felt like she knew him a damn sight more than her other half. Which was probably why recently, she couldn’t help but compare the two. She watched him, smirking when he tapped his hat top with two fast fingers, causing another lock of hair to spring free. ‘It’s coming,’ he grumbled. ‘When Ben manages to stop it mooing.’

‘Har-har,’ Ben blushed before turning his full attention back to the steak in the pan, spooning the juices over the meat’s surface. ‘I’ll get it right.’ Ben’s chef whites looked like he’d been bathing in the gravy, compared to Tyler’s still white ones. ‘Keep your hat on.’

‘You’d better,’ Tyler muttered. ‘I already rang the bell. I need this place in good hands when I go. McDonald’s are still hiring, you know.’

‘Yeah,’ Ben grinned back. ‘And I hear you get free milkshakes. By the time you actually take another job, I’ll be a pro.’

Tyler laughed. ‘Milkshake my arse. You’ll be lucky if they let you salt the fries without supervision.’ He side-eyed Amber, who waspicking at the varnish on her thumbnail and running the phone call over in her head. ‘What’s up with you?’

‘Nothing, why?’ She dropped her hands to her sides. Tyler picked up on her tells too. Working together for eighteen months, you noticed a few things.I wonder if Bradley does that with me. It was harder and harder to work him out of late. Being in the same room might help.She snapped out of it when she saw Tyler fixing her with a pointed look.

‘You look fed up, for one. You pick your nails when you’re brooding about something.’ His black brows furrowed under the trim of his chef’s hat. ‘Business plan not working?’

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