Page 39 of Third Time Lucky

Do I say yes to this? Because I want to.

‘Um…’

‘Mitzi would be thrilled to hear you’re honing your culinary skills,’ he adds persuasively with mock innocence. ‘I’ll even pick you up and drop you off.’ His sly wink confirms what he’s up to – and maybe it’s working, because now I’m tempted beyond resistance.

I can’t stop staring at him unless I’m busy stuffing my mouth with his delicious dishes. It’s clear that I should say no before I embarrass myself further. But if I agree, he’s right – Mitzi will be happy. Plus, I’ll have the chance to steer conversations and ensure Aaron doesn’t blurt out anything inappropriate.

‘And it’ll be a great way to get to know me— er, my cooking better, too,’ he says, cutting through my thoughts by skillfully using my own words against me.

I bite my lip, trying to contain a smile as he grins back at me, bashfully charming.

‘Guess there’s no escaping now, is there?’

‘Nope. You’re roped in. We leave after dinner tomorrow night.’

Unexpected excitement bubbles in my chest like champagne fizzing up in flutes. And the deal is sealed. I’m joining him and Aaron for a baking class with a legend. But first, I finish the masterpiece he’s made in front of me before I starve to death.

11

ASHER

The restaurant is a maze of exposed wooden beams and metal scaffolding, its walls still unfinished and rough. Debris and construction tools clutter the floor, while the skeleton of a kitchen can be seen through a wide-open doorway that will eventually be closed with swinging double doors. Sounds of construction fill the air, from the buzz of power tools to the clanging of metal and the thumping of hammers. The windows are covered in opaque plastic sheets. Once I figure out a name, I’ll post a ‘coming soon’ sign facing the sidewalk to entice future diners.

We walk around the torn-apart building, plastic taped to different areas as the contractor we’ve hired repairs walls. One corner holds the appliances I ordered – all top-of-the-line and designed to make Aaron’s and my life easier once this place opens.

‘This is gonna be nice!’ Aaron boasts. ‘I like the flow.’

‘Me too. Maybe we won’t constantly be running into one another.’

We most recently worked together at a restaurant named DINE. Yep, original. The kitchen was small, hot and a B-health code at best. Aaron still works there – he took my spot when I left after taking on so many private jobs during my off time that I couldn’t work both. Catering, line work, private chef work, you name it, I’ve done it. It was nice to cook anything that wasn’t greasy diner food served as ‘four-star cuisine.’ I wanted to be a five-star chef. A culinary genius. Now, my clients know I am – Lucy’s orgasmic compliments prove it.

My grandmother – who helped Alyssa raise us kids when she couldn’t handle us boys – sent my siblings and me to college. To my surprise, there was enough money to send me to the dreamiest culinary school on my list, right in the heart of Napa Valley. After the tumultuous years of my late teens, I needed to escape and find a new environment to save myself from self-destruction. So, I headed south to an unfamiliar city where I could start fresh. Finally, it’s paid off, and I’m on my way to where I want to be – owner and head chef of my own restaurant. And I’m doing it with Aaron – yapping like he’s Gordon Ramsay – by my side.

He turns my way with a growing smirk and it’s not because he thinks I’m funny. No. This is a look I know well – he’s got a secret.

‘Speaking of running into things,’ he says nonchalantly. ‘I bumped into Lucy last night.’

I turn his way, confused. ‘How? I saw Lucy last night.’

‘Before that, she was in my bar on a bizarre date, I think. Or maybe it was a job interview? Pretty sure if it was, she didn’t get it. Who knows. Anyway, I suspected it was her, so when the guy left shortly after he’d arrived, I decided to see if I was right. I was.’

He says ‘my bar’ like he owns it when he just spends too much time there.

I wonder why she didn’t mention this last night.

‘What did uh—’ I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. ‘What’d she have to say?’ I ask, unsure if I want to know what they spoke of.

‘She likes you—’ he says, walking away from me, his fingers trailing along the countertop near him.

‘— as friends,’ I finish his sentence.

He shakes his head.

‘Stop,’ I command, watching him come to a halt. ‘Why are you saying no to that?Youdidn’t talk about me, did you?’

He turns, making an about-face toward me. ‘Maybe?’ he says with a shrug.

‘Aaron, spill it.’

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