Page 14 of Go Cook Yourself

Stay away from men. That was the rule Amber and I decided on last night after I arrived and told her what Neil did. Since then, the twenty unanswered calls and fifteen messages he’s left me have convinced me further. Garett is an expert chef, and if all I do is learn from him, then fantastic.

This is the result of eating his orgasm-worthy bread while having his hands on my skin. That, coupled with some horny rival bullshit and the buzz from turning around a crappy first day into an awesome one, has thrown me off-kilter.

“I’ll be here until Christmas, probably, if not longer.” I force colleague-like conversation.

“Is Amber okay?” His tone is brusque. “Kath said she’d gone off because of the twins.”

“She’s doing okay, all things considered. The pregnancy has taken its toll, but Mum and Dad will be on call until her husband, Kalen, returns.”

“How did you get this scar?” Garett runs a fingertip across the silver slash on the back of my hand.

“I burnt my hand when I was baking. It was on the first batch of Naughty Treats cookies. It’s like a fond memory now, but it hurt like a bitch.”

I briefly smile at the memory, although I need a new focus now that the company and my friendship with Viv are dead. I can’t buy her out. I don’t have enough money for a new skirt, let alone a business. Maybe I should enter the competition Betty mentioned. It would show my family that I’m back and ready to rebuild our relationship, too.

“All the best chefs have scars.” Garett holds out his hands. Where mine carry the odd freckle, his are tanned the colour of golden sugar. Kitchen work rarely involves tanning time, buthe’s probably earned enough to travel the world. Garett shows me his thumb. The skin pinches to form a marked line on the pad. He famously has an unexplained one on his face, although his beard mostly covers it. “I got this from the opening day of my restaurant. I’d never chopped so many onions, and my partner asked me a question, and bam, sharp knife into my finger.”

“When did you run a restaurant?” I’ve read a little about Garett’s career, although there’s not enough online to get a complete timeline.

“A while back,” he replies sternly. “But we live and learn.”

I fight not to fill the silence, instead reaching for the last bits of the bread. He must have had reasons for leaving wherever he worked before, but it can’t be because he had a burning need to work in a cookery school. He could be setting up his own place or leading at an exclusive restaurant.

“Kath said you’d worked in a cooperative bakery,” he comments.

“Yeah, until…well, until yesterday, but that’s the past.”

“And your Naughty Treats? What’s that about?” he presses, his fingers lingering on the secure bandage.

“A business I ran with a friend, but that’s over now.”

“Because?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say with a sigh. “It’s been a difficult couple of days. Sorry.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “You don’t need to apologise to me. I’m one of the reasons for your difficult day today, aren’t I?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Just so you know, you can talk to me if you need to. I know I’m an arsehole, but…” Surely, the great Garett Kelsey isn’t about to apologise. “Hold on, did you say Mum and Dad?” he asks, referring to my earlier comment. “You’re Amber’s sister? You’re a Cloud?”

I nod.

He rears back. “Is that the time?” He’s not looking at a watch. “The bandage should hold at least another day, giving enough time for the cut to heal. But be careful in the shower.” His jaw moves as fast as his hands as he tidies up the first aid kit.

My brows knit as he whirls around the room, collecting his belongings before rushing to the back room. I make a mental note to ask Amber about Garett’s relationship with our parents. They’re the most incredible people. They treated my awful ex with respect, and even with everything, they never stopped loving me.

Suddenly, a fluffball, the colour of freshly baked blondies, bounces through the dining room.

“Cookie,” a woman calls across the kitchen. The pup barks and spins in circles like all its birthdays have come at once. It’s a beaut of a dog with more energy than fifteen clowns on coke.

“Hello, lit—”

It makes a beeline for me. It jumps in the air, flies towards me, and takes me down.

Chapter Nine

Garett

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