Page 3 of Bake You Mine
Liam slapped his shopping list into Damon’s hand. “Can you get the rest of this? I need to see the butcher since the special’s gotta change.”
Elevation’s core menu was modern American, but Liam wasn’t fond of labels. As executive chef, one of his favorite aspects was whipping up day-of, limited-run specials for that night’s dinner. They garnered great reach on social media. That was the kind of attention he favored versus that stupid #hotchef hashtag that Damon had jokingly tagged Elevation’s posts with.
Unfortunately, the moniker stuck to Liam like glue. His were the most popular posts under the hashtag. Now, he spent less time in the kitchen and more time taking selfies with customers.
Damon scanned the list. “I’ll handle it.”
Liam started through the crowd. The jam lady peeked over at him as she nestled little glass containers into a box.
Aubrey greeted him with a sigh. “Come to get jelly for your pork chops? Or whatever your special is now?”
“Now that you mention it, that’s a good idea.”
His arm grazed hers as he slipped into the stall next to her.
“I’ll have these dropped off by noon, Aubs.” The jam lady angled toward Liam. “Would you care for a sample?”
Judging by that smile, she meant a sample of more than her competition-winning apple butter.
“Maybe next time.”
Aubrey huffed out a breath before turning without a word. Damn if Damon wasn’t right. He did like watching her leave.
After wrapping things up at the butcher shop, Liam began the trek back toward Elevation. The walk lasted a good twenty minutes, if you were in a hurry. Today, he wasn’t, so he took his time. It was a respite from the usual hustle and bustle.
The walk gave him time to daydream about the menu and his plans for Elevation. He’d never planned on returning to his hometown. Less than three hours south of Washington, DC, Port Fortune, Virginia, was a small city that drew many day-trippers from DC, Richmond, and Charlottesville. There was also a unique local population to cater to. It was a quirky little city with a history that dated back to the Revolutionary War.
Still, it’d always felt like a cage he couldn’t quite rattle his way out of. Until his venture capitalist older brother offered to help bankroll a restaurant. It came with the string that it had to be in Port Fortune. He’d initially turned down the idea—he wasn’t the small-town type. Even though Port Fortune wastechnicallyan independent city, it wasn’t on the same level as the places he’d lived and worked.
San Francisco. London. New York.
It’d taken a year or two, but that cage wasn’t so stifling anymore. That didn’t mean there still wasn’t the urge to return to fine dining in the big city.
Aubrey’s patisserie came into view when he came onto Sweet Briar Street. A small crowd lingered outside. He couldn’t deny the place was cute, with the bright-pink double doors as a shock of color against the white brick building. A pink-and-white striped awning shaded the entrance.
The front window was filled with accolades from local and national publications, as well as a few “best of” awards. Her social media numbers were impressive, even without a catchy hashtag like #hotchef. Not that he spent a lot of time scrolling through photos of cake.
As he passed by, Aubrey walked by the window. She’dchanged into her chef’s whites—or, in her case, pinks—and tugged her long brown hair into a messy bun. An enticing aroma wafted through the open door.
A pair of twenty-something girls regarded him, one whispering something that sounded like “hot chef” under her breath.
Aubrey’s head snapped up as he passed. Their eyes stayed locked until she ducked out of sight. Aubrey had a habit of gaping at him like he was the deer and she couldn’t slam on the brakes in time.
He sped up as he approached Elevation. The oversized garage doors at the front of the space were thrown open, filling the space with sunshine.
Front-of-house staff bustled around, setting up for lunch service, which started in less than two hours. Two of them wiped down the communal plank wood table that occupied most of the dining space, with booths and the odd two-top table skirting the sides. The vibe was modern and masculine. At the rear of the space, the kitchen sat partially open to the dining room, giving a glimpse into the madness.
Empty, the space suited his needs. As the restaurant began to fill up, it became apparent how badly he needed to expand. On busy nights, they were up to an hour’s wait, with some potential customers choosing to go elsewhere.
He found Damon in the kitchen, reviewing the delivery from the butcher that had beaten him home. Pork chops. He should send Aubrey a sample since she’d given him the idea.
Gary popped in through the back door.
“Liam! There you are. Did you get my text message?”
He chuckled. “Yes. Are you going to give me the space?”
Gary pulled off his glasses. “Oh, no, my dear boy. Are you and Aubrey up for a healthy bout of competition?”
