Page 26 of Until August
“I wasn’t out to impress him. I was looking for a free education.”
But nothing in this life came free. I’d paid my dues. Was shouted at and bore the brunt of every perceived imperfection and bad night of service. I’d probably shucked a million oysters and chopped as many onions. I’d been relegated to the dish room and mopped the floors for my ‘insubordination.’ But I’d learned more from him than any culinary school could have taught me.
“After I’d learned everything I could from him, I left,” I told Luca.
He’d called me a fool and said I wasn’t ready to oversee my own kitchen. He also claimed that I owed him. Bullshit. I’d worked my ass off for him and owed him nothing.
We’d exchanged a few heated words before parting on less-than-friendly terms.
Burning bridges was one of my specialties.
I gestured to the door Luca was still blocking.
He lowered his arms and widened his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. Not sure if he was trying to intimidate me, but if so, it wouldn’t work.
“So, is that your usual MO?” His tone was deceptively casual. “You talk your way into kitchens and try to take over? And after you take what you want, you leave?”
He was playing the protective brother role and wasn’t sure he could trust me. Fair enough. Couldn’t blame him for that.
I rubbed my hand over my jaw, debating how to handle this. Finally, I opted for the truth. “I’m not here to take over. Your sister is the head chef. Her kitchen. Her rules. I’m here to work. And to do whatever I can to make her job easier.”
He relaxed his stance. “Yeah, okay. It’s just that….” He looked down the hall and then back at me. “My sister’s been through a lot. The old Nic was a ballbuster. A straight shooter who never took shit from anyone. She’s always been tough and strong. But now… she’s different. And I just don’t want to see her get screwed over.”
What had she been through?
Even though we’d only met briefly, the Nicola I’d met all those years ago was full of sass. Now she seemed more guarded, with a sadness that told me she’d experienced tragedy.
I looked him in the eye. “I’m not here to screw anyone over. And I can assure you that I only have your sister’s best interests at heart.”
He stepped away from the door with a nod, accepting me at my word, and we strode down the hall. I felt like I’d passed another test.
When I returned to the kitchen, Nicola was squeezing the juice from blood oranges to the tune of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” I set a paper bag on the counter in front of her. She lifted her head and looked from the bag to me, her brows raised in question. “What’s this?”
“Sicilian pistachios. I owed you a pound, so I bought two. They’re worth their weight in gold.” I punctuated my words with a wink because old habits die hard, and I was still an asshole.
Her cheeks flushed, no doubt remembering the words she’d once said to me. “August…” she started but caught herself and glanced at her brother, who was watching us intently but trying to pretend he wasn’t.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the word?” a guy called as he walked into the kitchen, followed by a few others.
The kitchen brigade was here.
A reminder that I was here to work, not flirt with the head chef whose lips I’d kissed a million years ago.
It didn’t matter how much I wanted another taste. She was married. And that was one line I’d never cross.
“Give me a prep list,” I told her after she’d made the introductions. “And while I prep, you can tell me what you need from a sous chef.”
She arched her brows. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to tellmewhat I need from a sous chef?”
I chuckled.
She was still cute.
And I was determined to prove my worth. I’d be the best damn sous chef she’d ever had. Not only to land this job but because of what Luca said earlier.
Whatever she was going through was bad enough that her brother was worried about her.
We both needed to turn the tides and find something good to hang on to.
