Page 217 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I open my eyes and force a breath out through my nose, wiping any lingering irritation from my face.
Get control of yourself, woman,I think as I clear my throat.
“Yep! Great. Ready to go.”
Lennox reappears, a giant bag of basmati rice in his hand, and Olivia looks from him to me, then back again, her brow furrowed like she’s solving a logic problem.
“Lennox,” she says slowly.
“What’s up, Liv?” he says casually, but I’m not sure Olivia buys it. Her forehead stays furrowed as Lennox asks, “What are you doing here?”
“Just here to introduce Tatum to her staff.” She looks at me and smiles. I don’t know her well yet, but Olivia Marino has very expressive eyes, and right now they’re asking me,Are you okay? Did he say something to you? Do you need me to punch my brother on your behalf?
Her concern is just the boost I need to forget about Lennox and dive into work.
But in the back of my mind, I can’t help feeling like Lennox Hawthorne just got the best of me.
Chapter Four
Lennox
“Chef?”
I turn to see Brittany, one of my line cooks, standing a few feet away, her hands on her hips and a furrow on her brow. “What’s wrong?”
“I got this,” Zach says, motioning toward the counter where I’ve been expediting orders. When I’m acting as expeditor, I don’t cook. Instead, I oversee everyone who is, calling orders as they come into the kitchen and making sure everything is prepared correctly and served efficiently. “Things are slowing down. You can see what she needs.”
I step aside, letting Zach take my spot, and walk toward Brittany.
“I can’t find the parmesan,” she says as soon as I reach her.
“It isn’t in the fridge?”
“Itwasin the fridge, but now it’snotin the fridge, and three plates are waiting for parm.”
I follow her to the walk-in, immediately seeing the empty spot on the shelf where the giant wedge of parmesan used to be. It was there as recently as this afternoon—something I knowbecause my pantry chef is out on maternity leave, so I was the one checking on inventory.
The fact that it isn’t here can only mean one thing.
I sigh and leave the fridge, making eye contact with Brittany who’s waiting for me right outside. “Go do a quick walkthrough and double-check it isn’t somewhere else in the kitchen.”
She nods and disappears, and I turn away from my kitchen, heading toward the cavernous space where the catering staff works. The room is almost empty, which means everyone is probably up at the farmhouse providing a dinner service to whatever event is scheduled for the evening.
Tatum’s voice sounds behind me, and I spin around to see her hurrying into her kitchen. “No, I’ll grab them,” she says to someone out of sight. “You go on and I’ll be right behind you.”
She slows when she sees me, her lips lifting in a smile as she turns and walks a few backward steps. “Are you lost, Hawthorne?”
It’s not an unreasonable question. It’s been two weeks since Tatum moved in, and we’ve seen each other around plenty. We’ve even had the chance to argue about: one, the frequency with which her dog pees in my garden; two, the way we organize the shared walk-in fridge; and three, who has first dibs on the produce that comes out of Stonebrook’s greenhouse. But generally, we stay out of each other’s way when we’re at our busiest. There’s too much work to be done to do otherwise.
Before I can respond, one of Tatum’s cooks steps up beside her, a tray holding four covered dinner plates in her hand. “The specials, Chef.”
“Perfect, Jessie. Thank you. And you double-checked for pecans?”
“Double and triple-checked,” Jessie says.
Tatum lifts the lid covering one of the plates and peers under it before replacing it and picking up the tray. “I want you withme at the farmhouse, all right? It’s your job to make sure the servers get each of these specials to the right people. Nothing like ruining a wedding by sending Aunt Edna into anaphylactic shock because the catering staff ignored her nut allergy.”
Jessie laughs. “Understood. I’m on it.”
