Page 2 of In Good Company

“Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks,” Lewis remarks, carefully picking up the plate filled with the lamb chops.

“You know it will,” Kacey pipes up, grabbing the bowl withthe tomato salad and the basket of fresh bread I prepared. “Lucy always makes the best dishes.”

I place my hand on my chest as I give her an appreciative smile. “That means so much to me. Thank you.”

Kacey smiles before spinning carefully on her heel and walking right back out of the kitchen. I’m not close with Kacey or Lewis, but the few times I’ve cooked for Laurent, they’ve been incredibly kind to me. I make a mental note to wrap up the extra food we have from tonight and place it in containers for them.

I’m busy preparing a cherry tart with fresh cherries I picked up from the local market when Kacey comes hurrying in.

“Everyone ismarvelingabout your food, Lucy. They’d like you to come out and introduce yourself.”

There’s a loud clanking noise as I drop the spoon I’d been holding. “Surely I don’t need to introduce myself. Are they not all from the club?” Suddenly, my nerves take over at the prospect of going out there and speaking to everyone. Making connections with potential new clients is the main reason I accepted this last-minute job to begin with, but now that I’m faced with that opportunity, I’m overwhelmed with nerves. I’ve always been terrible about talking about myself. I’m even worse at accepting compliments—something that might have stemmed from growing up with two brothers who made it their mission to always humble me.

Kacey shrugs. “Even if they’ve met you before, they want to tell you how much they enjoyed the meal. Go talk to them.” She waves her hands through the air to hurry me along, but I stand frozen, unsure of what to do.

Kacey snaps her fingers to get my attention. “Lucy.” There’s more snapping, this time her fingers even closerto my face.

I jump, my heartbeat speeding up. “Yes?”

Kacey’s hands fall to my shoulders. “You’re going to go out there and own that you just blew their fucking socks off. Now, go snag some more clients. All of them are nicer than Laurent, which is a total win for you.”

I nod. Kacey has a point. Word of mouth is how to get new clients in the Hamptons, and anyone dining with Laurent Hughes can pay big money for meals. I need to own that I’m a damn good private chef and go make some connections.

I just might throw up first.

Kacey must see the fear in my eyes because she gives me a soft smile. “Laurent has dinner parties all the time. You’re a far better chef than anyone else he’s hired. Although, if you repeat that, I’ll deny I ever said it until I’m blue in the face.”

Her words make me laugh, easing some of my tension. “I guess I should get out there.”

Taking a deep breath, I step around her. I give Kacey a nervous smile over my shoulder as I leave the kitchen, internally praying I don’t make a fool of myself in front of Laurent’s guests.

TWO

CAL

I knew it was a bad idea to say yes to this dinner party. Laurent can be a raging asshole, which is truly saying something because I know I’m not always the nicest person to be around.

I only agreed because my best friend, Jude, was supposed to come with me. The fucker bailed last minute after something came up and he had to unexpectedly return to Manhattan.

I stupidly still came, and my night has consisted of listening to Laurent unnecessarily berate his employees and dodging the weird advances of Warren Simpson’s wife asheogles one of the waitstaff members.

I’m staring at my lap, trying to come up with an excuse for why I need to leave the moment after dessert is served, when Laurent clears his throat.

“Here she is,” he announces. My eyes move from my lap to Laurent. Meeting the chef for the night might be the highlight of my evening. The food was incredible.

“I’d like everyone to meet Lily. You may have seen her waiting tables at the club, but she also cooks on the side.” He laughs, pretending that anything that came out of his mouth was even remotely funny.

The soft clearing of a throat pulls my eyes from Laurent to the chef he found for the night. “It’s?—”

My eyes go wide as I sit straighter in my chair. “Lucy,” I finish for her, blinking a few times to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

I don’t know who looks more shocked to see the other—me or her.

The last time I saw Lucy was at my family’s home in Greenwich. Her dark hair is far longer than it used to be, but her warm brown eyes still look the same. It’s a bit of a shock to see her standing there, her wide eyes pinned on me. For a moment, I don’t even know what to say. I never expected to see her here in the Hamptons and especially never would’ve guessed she’d be working as a private chef.

“I was positive your name was Lily,” Laurent pipes up. Neither Lucy nor I look at him. We’re too lost staring at one another to worry about the host and his inability to remember the name of the person he hired for the night.

One question after another fires off in my head. It’s been four, or maybe even five, years since I’ve last seen her.

---