Page 15 of Go Cook Yourself

The one rule you shouldn’t ignore when working in a kitchen is don’t shit where you eat. Not literally, of course.

And there’s no way I should flirt with or have anything less than pure thoughts about someone from the Cloud family. They own the damn cookery school, and they’re the only ones that haven’t had a personal call from Clive warning them not to employ me.

Hookups and relationships are off the menu for kitchen workers, and my recent months with Clive have taught me that friendships aren’t real, either. If I hadn’t believed we were best friends and co-business owners, I’d still have a career and Cookie.

Barking echoes through the building. I rush to the doorway at the squealing accompanying it and a familiar voice shouting Cookie. Ruby giggles while lying on the floor, her skirt ripped down one side. Her blond hair splays around her as Cookie licks and kisses her.

Fucking hell.

“Cookie, heel,” Flora hollers from goodness knows where, but my dog isn’t heeding her. Instead, my fluffball bounces around a cackling Ruby, whose thigh-high hold ups are on show. An alabaster inch of skin shows above the lace top.

She’s a Cloud, I remind myself. Yeah, but my dog loves her already. She’s full of attitude and the sexiest woman I’ve seen in years. I bet her Naughty Treats taste like heaven.

I shake my head, divert my gaze, and command, “Cookie.” He stops at my deep voice before turning and running to me. He nearly falls over his legs and can’t keep up with his desperation to be with me.

He reaches me, bouncing on his back legs with his paws dancing in the air. His ears flap as he jumps, and I kneel to cuddle him. I bury my face in his fur, but I nearly end up on my ass due to his whirlwind of joy. It’s been four weeks since I last held him. “God, I’ve missed you, boy.”

“At least I’m not the only one without control over him.” Flora’s flame-red waves bounce as she enters the dining room. Her hand clenches at her hip, and she rolls her eyes to demonstrate how she regularly carries more attitude than accessories. “He got away from me in the car park. He must have smelt your everlasting cinnamon scent.”

“Flora, honey, how did you manage this?”

I lift Cookie and hold him in my arms as he sniffs my stubble in the creepy way that makes me laugh. He nuzzles me, and my laughter turns to kissing noises until I sense Ruby staring at me. I’m supposed to be a grumpy chef, but I briefly have my boy. I hug Flora.

Flora’s eyes narrow as she stares at Ruby, who’s readjusting her skirt to hide the rip. “Can we chat in private?”

“Sure, do you want to come to mine or…”

“It’s fine. I’ll go.” Ruby eases herself up. One hand grips the rip in her skirt, although there’s still a hint of lace and skin. There’s never been a better sight than my dog and this sexy woman happy together. She reveals a hint of cleavage as she bends over. Yep, that’s a great view, too.You are such a pig, Garett.

“You don’t have to,” I reply, but she’s already knocking over the stool.

I find Ruby’s jacket, which she tossed earlier and nearly smashed the school’s most expensive glasses, and give it to her as she rushes around the kitchen. As she passes me, I spot the gold-blue edge of a piece of paper on top of her bag, and my stomach churns. The flyer announcing Clive’s competition still holds the creases from where I scrunched it before tossing it. So that’s another reason to stay away from her. She has the power to betray me, and I’m not letting that happen.

She keeps her head down as she mutters goodbye, and her round bottom sways as she leaves the cookery school. A grunt vibrates my lips, but it sounds more like “never again” than “goodbye.”

“So, big bro,” Flora calls, bringing my attention back, “who was that?”

“If I told you, then you might tell your real brother,” I cheek as I plop my gum into the bin. I shouldn’t need it now that Ruby’s gone. “How did you get Cookie away from Clive for a couple of hours?”

I lead Flora to the mezzanine floor. The kitchen will get a deep clean from Kath on the morning of the next scheduled cookery class, but the less dog hair she finds, the better. The area that Amber gave me a tour of when I first came to the school is like a cosy hideaway with a couple of sofas. Folded big blankets are in a box in the corner.

Maybe Clive thought the cookery school was so inconsequential that he didn’t need to bother calling them to demand they don’t employ me. I’d have taken any job, but there was something special about this place that didn’t make the lack of choice as painful as it could have been. Amber suggested using the hideaway at Christmas for parties. It was a growing, lucrativebusiness, and with the space and cosy feel, the school might venture into new business models.

I shake my head. This place isn’t my future but a stopgap. I must find a restaurant where I can be the boss and regain self-respect.

I put one of the blankets down and settle onto a sofa. Cookie jumps straight up and cuddles up to me with a sigh. I avoid Cookie’s scars from his beating at a puppy farm before the police saved him and gave him to the dog rescue centre where we found him.

“Clive’s at the restaurant for a couple of hours,” Flora replies, returning to our earlier conversation. Her hair is the same colour as her brother’s, and her temperament can be as fiery as his, but there’s often a kindness behind her actions. “So who was that?”

“Ruby is managing the cookery school. She’s okay.”

Flora rolls her eyes.

“Oi, Flora, I could go off you. Until thirty seconds ago, you were my favourite fake little sister.”

She smirks. “I’m your only fake or real sibling.”

“Which can only be a good thing,” I reply, threading my fingers through Cookie’s fur as he sleeps against me. If my parents had brought up Flora, she wouldn’t have survived. I barely did and left home two weeks after my sixteenth birthday with less money than now.

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