Page 3 of Back in the Texan's Bed
Faith, a beautiful, no-nonsense woman who could’ve passed for actress Zoe Saldana’s younger sister, nodded with a flick of her fingers. “Of course.” Number one rule in this kitchen: the food came first, because the customer did. And though Sheen enjoyed popularity and success, they couldn’t afford to become lax. One negative review, one bad write-up, and their status as Royal’s newest favorite could quickly spin the other way. Nobody wanted that.
Least of all Charlotte.
Not when she’d sacrificed everything to return to the hometown she’d had no intention of ever stepping foot in again.
Not when she had so much riding on this.
Like expanding her clientele to include more exclusive and influential connections. A possible owning partnership in Sheen. Growing her reputation, to take one more step toward becoming a world-renowned chef. Earning her Michelin stars.
And most important, providing a stable, financially secure future for herself and Ben.
Even as she executed the finishing touches on her signature dish of braised beef over Thai noodles with seared tomatoes and asparagus, that warm rush of joy that only thoughts of her beautiful little boy could conjure slid through her like melted sunshine. He’d saved her, blessed her with a reason to keep pushing forward, instead of lying down and fading away. He was hereverything, so it seemed only fair that she would be more than willing to give up everything to ensure he had a well-rounded, happy and full life.
Even if it meant swallowing her pride and being the one to try to bridge the divide that had estranged her from her parents after she’d left Royal.
Even if it meant facing the memories—and demons—that continued to plague her three years later.
Smothering a sigh, she refocused on the task at hand. Satisfied that the meals were ready, she quickly cleaned the edge of the plates with a paper towel soaked with white vinegar, then set them on the custom-built warming shelves for servers to come pick up.
“Rachel,” Charlotte called to her sous-chef, “fire those plantain burgers. They’re up next.”
“Yes, Chef, on three,” the older woman immediately replied, informing Charlotte that the Kobe beef burger, set between two slices of fried plantain, would be ready for her to plate with her made-from-scratch avocado ranch dressing in three minutes’ time.
Wiping her hands on a towel, Charlotte turned to Faith, smiling as the manager typed out a message so fast on her ever-present phone that her thumbs blurred.
“What’d you need?” Charlotte asked.
“You, your effervescent personality and beautiful face.”
“Do you want me to clue you in on how pimp-ish that sounds, or are we just going to ignore it?” Charlotte drawled, quirking an eyebrow.
“Ignore it.”
Charlotte snickered, then grinned. As she had been headhunted from the California restaurant where she’d been working, so had Faith, from her native San Antonio, to run Sheen.
Faith had created a name for herself as a Jon Taffer in heels. Not that Sheen had been failing and needed rescuing when Faith had been brought on several weeks ago and prior to Charlotte’s hiring, but the owners had wanted to make sure their venture hit the ground running from the beginning.
“Okay, give. I have nearly a full restaurant of hungry customers to feed,” Charlotte said, crossing her arms. “What’s up?”
“What’s up is I just heard from a source who shall remain nameless that the food critic from theNew York Voicemagazine will be dropping by Sheen next Tuesday.”
Astonishment vibrated through Charlotte, and she rocked back on her nonskid sugar skulls clogs. “What?” she whispered excitedly. “You’rekiddingme!”
TheNew York Voice. Holy... The alternative e-zine had only been around for the last five years, but it had immediately become popular not just within New York, but nationally and internationally, too. With its hard-hitting investigative journalism stories on societal issues, along with its focus on the cultural community of art, music, literature and food, it had already won the National Press Foundation Award as well as the George Polk Award. For Sheen to receive a positive review in their food column would be amazing publicity not only for the restaurant, but also for Charlotte’s career.
“Nope, all true. Which means we need to be at our very best next Tuesday. I’ll handle the front of the house and make sure it’s super clean, all the servers are on point. And you’re responsible for the back. I don’t think I need to explain what a rave review could do for us.”
“You don’t.” Charlotte shook her head, grinning. “And believe me, we will be better than perfect.”
“I know it,” Faith said, and for several moments they stood there, grinning at each other like two giddy fools. “We got this,” she whispered.
“Oh, wesogot this,” Charlotte whispered back, the excitement still humming inside her joined by a steely resolve.
Yes, a glowing write-up and recommendation would mean great things for Sheen, but it went deeper than that. This restaurant was managed by a black woman. The kitchen was run by a black woman. The staff were women of various ethnicities—but they were all women. When the owner had come up with the concept, maybe it’d been a gimmick to differentiate Sheen from the other new restaurants popping up. But both Charlotte and Faith had vowed that they wouldn’t let it remain some publicity ploy. Their restaurant would be one of the most successful establishments known for its sublime service and outstanding food. And so far, they were succeeding at this aim.
“Chef, your presence has been requested at one of the tables. They asked to meet you,” Carlie, one of their servers, interrupted.
“Thanks, Carlie.” Charlotte nodded at the younger woman. “I’d better get out there,” she said to Faith, trying to conceal a grimace.
