Page 2 of Tempt Me

He whirled and snatched the lobster from Chantal’s table. He slapped it onto the cutting board next to Larry. In one smooth movement, he grabbed my knife and buried the tip in the lobster’s brain. When it twitched, Larry scrabbled weakly on the cutting board.

“See? Quick and humane.” He dropped the dead lobster into Chantal’s pot. She murmured her thanks and set the lid on the pot.

“Now you.” He held out my knife to me, handle first.

I glanced at my pot. Damn those efficient gas burners. It had reached a full boil. I accepted the handle and turned my attention to Larry. Resigned to his fate, he allowed his antennae to droop.

My heart broke for him.

He’d end up mingled with his friends in a lobster bisque to be served in the school cafeteria or in a lobster roll wrapped to go.

Why should he have to die for some soggy, over-sauced sandwich?

All he wanted to do was live his best lobster life. So what if he hadn’t determined what that might be? He deserved another chance to figure out his life.

Wait. Was that Larry or me?

“Miss Jones. May I remind you that we have only thirty minutes left in class?”

Thirty minutes. Chef Guillaume didn’t accept late assignments. I’d have to murder poor Larry now if I had any hope of disassembling his carcass in time. The silver lobster pick flashed in the fluorescent lights. The one Chef expected me to use to pull Larry’s flesh from his shell.

Larry lifted his claw in farewell, showing me the blue band. Blue like the ocean. Blue like the delicate edges of the shell covering his slender knees, which I’d be expected to tug out with the fork.

I swallowed.Not today, Larry.

“Sorry, Chef.”

Dropping my knife, I tossed the towel back over Larry and lifted him. He wasn’t heavy, only a couple pounds, but his oversized claws flopped.

“What are you doing, Miss Jones?”

I kept my head down. “I’m leaving, Chef.”

The classroom had gone deadly quiet.

“If you walk out that door, you fail my class. It will be difficult to graduate without it.”

It would’ve been difficult to graduate even with a passing grade in his class. Shoving Larry under my arm, I dragged my Louboutin tote from its cubby under my workstation and slung it over my shoulder. “I understand, Chef.”

“Do you, Miss Jones?” His gray eyebrow lifted. He must have sensed the pressure that made me return day after day to a class I was failing.

I glanced at my knife roll. I liked the heft of the large chef’s knife and the way the handle fit into my hand. It was a shame to leave it here. But I’d have to put down Larry, and if I did that, my short-tempered instructor might chuck him into my pot and boil him alive.

Better to leave it. I nodded at Gregory. He had skills. He deserved them more than I did. Culinary school was wasted on me, just like college, fashion school, the event-planning internship, and even the flower shop my stepfather bought me.

“Sorry, Chef,” I repeated, and with a firm grip on Larry, I turned on my clogs.

I wish I could say I sailed out, but my damn clog caught on the floor and wrenched itself off my foot. I’d always hated them anyway. I stepped out of the other and, in my socks, scuffed out of the classroom.

The Uber driverpeeled away from the curb at Rincon Park. I’d gotten used to the fishy odor in the two hours we’d spent in the classroom, but having Larry in the little Mazda was a lot, especially after he’d gotten a little carsick.

Despite the low clouds, the air was fresher at the park, and I strode straight for the pier.

“Don’t worry, Larry. I got you. The spiny lobsters might look different, but I’m sure they’re nice. You’re going to make so many new friends.”

He rolled his eyestalks back toward me.

“Seriously, guy. I don’t think you’d make it if I shipped you back to Maine or wherever. This is way better than being served in the cafeteria. If you don’t like the bay, you can swim right around the peninsula to the ocean.”

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