Page 235 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I have to say something though. Ifollowedher into the pantry. I could probably start taking an actual inventory, but something tells me Tatum would see right through me.
“Your staff really like you,” I blurt out.Okay,I guess we’re doing this now then.
She drops a few more apples into the bin on the shelf beside her. “I hope so.”
I scratch my jaw. “And your kitchen—you run it well.”
She props her hands on her hips. “Thanks.”
“And I guess—I guess what I’m saying is that if you have any suggestions for how to make the Hawthorne kitchen run a little smoother, I could use the help.”
She cocks her head. “What happened tothanks but no thanks?”
I sigh. “Thanks but no thankscame from an overly cocky guy who didn’t want to admit to his college rival that he could use some help. But then he had another bad night in the kitchen, and he decided his business was more important than his pride.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Keep talking.”
“I can’t let Hawthorne fail. But I think I must have some blind spots, and I can’t fix a problem that I can’t see.”
She presses her lips together and takes a few steps forward, bringing herself close enough that I could reach out and touch her. She smiles playfully. “That was really hard for you to get out, wasn’t it?”
I breathe out a little laugh, grateful that somehow, she knew lightening the mood would help. “You have no idea.”
“So, you want my thoughts just right off the top of my head?”
I nod. “Bring it.”
“Okay, first you need more room for your sauté cooks. They’re getting in each other’s way, and since your menu is so sauté heavy, you need to make their workspace as efficient and comfortable as possible. You can’t move the grill, but you could move your saucier. Give sauté a little more elbow room.”
I nod along as she talks. It’s a relatively easy change, but I can see how it might make a difference.
“Okay, that’s actually a good suggestion.”
“Do you really have to sound so surprised?” she says, her tone teasing.
“Sorry. You’re right. What else?”
“Your prep counter is modular, right? You can break it up? Move it around?”
I nod. “Yeah. For the most part, anyway.”
“I’d turn it ninety degrees if I were you. It’ll create a wider path from prep to your busiest stations and keep people from bumping into each other so much.” She reaches down and picks up the apples. “And fire Griffin. He’s rude, and he doesn’t listen to you. And he talks a lot of trash. I overheard him in the parking lot the other night, and it wasn’t pretty. If he were a genius in the kitchen, it might be worth keeping him on and seeing if you could temper his attitude, but he’s not. I’d let him go.”
“Sheesh. Who knew Tatum Elliott was such a cutthroat?”
She pauses at the door and looks back. “Um, do you rememberanythingabout culinary school?”
Okay, fair point. But this seems different somehow. Culinary school didn’t always feel real. We were isolated, working in practice kitchens, and spendinga lotof energy trying to one-up each other just for bragging rights. But this is real life, and she just synthesized three ways I can improve my kitchen in less than five minutes. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but this is the first time I’ve had all of Tatum’s sharp wit working for me instead of against me.
“Thank you,” I manage to say. “I appreciate the suggestions. I can’t promise I won’t ask for more.”
She shifts the bin of apples to one hip, holding it against her body, then lifts her free hand to pat my chest as she passes by. I swear it feels like her hand lingers, her fingertips pressing into my chest for an extra-long moment. “Anytime, Len.”
Len.It’s mostly my family who uses the nickname, but there’s something right about hearing it coming off her lips.
Zach is still waiting outside the pantry when we emerge.
He raises his eyebrows at me, but then Tatum captures his attention. “Zach, how’s your mom? Is she feeling better?” she asks as she passes by.
