Page 6 of Gimme Some Sugar

In the flurry of favorable reviews that had followed Carly and Travis’s debut at Gracie’s a few years ago, she’d been approached by a producer to film a handful of YouTube videos—cooking tutorials and kitchen tips, just for fun. The original offer had been for her to do the videos solo, but as usual, Travis had other plans. One dinner meeting and half a case of pinot noir later, he’d schmoozed both Carly and the producer into believing thatCarly in the Kitchenshould beCouples in the Kitchen, and thus, their first and foray into online videos had been born.

“Of course I’m serious,” Travis continued in his saccharine-sweet voice. “Each video has hundreds of thousands of views. Winslow doesn’t want to scrap the chance to do more of them, and frankly, neither do I. He’s even willing to overlook the longer than usual break we’ve had since the last one was posted.”

Goddamnit. She should’ve known better than to ignore her instincts. How had she not seen this coming?

“Winslow never contacted me about this,” she said, still trying to get over her shock. Of course Travis was locked and loaded with a cool reply.

“He called me last week, but I told him just to let me tell you. What’s the big deal? The videos are great PR. And no offense, but you could really use some right now.”

Carly clenched her jaw so tight that her ears popped. “I hate to break it to you, Travis, but it’s kind of hard to doCouples in the Kitchenwhen there’s no couple.”

He humored her with a patronizing chuckle. “We wouldn’t have to actually be a couple in order to film some videos. Come on, Carly. What do you say? A few more for old time’s sake wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Carly replied with sarcasm so thick she could’ve sliced it up and served it with basil and olive oil. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a kitchen to run. I can’t just up and come to the city to make a bunch of videos with you. Not that I would.”

God, Travis was so freaking smug! And Winslow was eating right out of his hand. She made a mental note to call him first thing in the morning to personally set him straight. She’d rather take a leisurely stroll through Times Square in her birthday suit than spend five minutes with Travis, never mind put on a happy face for the sake of boosting his livelihood.Again.

Travis exhaled audibly. “Look at it from a business standpoint, Carly. Coming back to New York to film some videos would be a boon for your career, one you need. I’m trying to do you a favor. You can’t hide out in the middle of nowhere forever.”

To think she’d once been a sucker for that sexy-smooth baritone. Carly took a deep breath to try to keep her voice from shaking in anger. “I’m not hiding from anything. I have my own kitchen out here. I didn’t need any favors from you to get it, and I sure as hell don’t need any favors from you to keep it. Thanks but no thanks on the videos. I’m not interested.”

Travis’s tone flipped from lovely to Lucifer in less than a breath. “I really think you should reconsider.” He paused before slithering in for the kill. “Otherwise who knows how long our divorce settlement could take.”

An icy fist slipped around Carly’s gut and gave it a sick twist. “Are you threatening to drag out our divorce if I don’t shoot more videos with you?”

Her heartbeat slammed beneath the thick cotton of her chef’s whites. Travis had done some pretty underhanded stuff in the past, but come on. He couldn’t be serious.

“I’m just saying I think it would be a smart move for you to come back to New York and film some videos. Who knows? You might even be able to get a job as somebody’s sous chef if you’re really lucky.”

Something ugly snapped in Carly’s chest, shoving the words right out of her. “Oh, I’ll be back in New York, but it’ll be when I’m good and ready and not a minute before. Until then, I’m going to have to call your bluff.”

Please God let it be a bluff. Was it too much to ask to just get on with her life?

“Fine.” Travis’s voice wrapped around the word like a dirty dishrag. “You’re not good enough to hack it in the big leagues anyway. Have fun committing career suicide out in the sticks, Mrs.Masters.”

Before she could work up a reply, Travis hung up the phone.

Carly pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “It’sMs. di Matisse, you asshole,” she told the dial tone before replacing the receiver on the cradle. She’d never gone by Travis’s name in her life.

After a quick round of deep breathing, Carly turned her attention to the clock. She didn’t have enough time to call her divorce attorney, who would likely have a field day with Travis’s threat. Plus, Carly wanted to be levelheaded when she made that call, and right now, that wasn’t freaking happening. She needed to breathe, to think, to cook. And maybe to pound something while she was at it.

Yeah. Chicken cutlets would make an excellent special.

A familiar sound made its way through the thin walls of the office, and Carly propped the door open to lean against the frame. Even though her arms were crossed and her mood was for shit, a smile brewed on her lips at the sight of the man in front of her.

“…Someday, when I’m awfully low…when the world is cold…hey, Carlsbad! You look pissed,” Adrian ventured gleefully, mid-Sinatra.

Adrian Holt had been Carly’s sous chef, right-hand man, and ride-or-die confidant for four years. Well, technically, for three and a half of them, he’d been Travis’s sous chef, too, but Carly didn’t feel like splitting hairs.

“I hate it when you call me that.” Despite her mood, a smile bloomed on her lips at the sight of her ginormous sous chef singing golden oldies in his chef’s whites and a backwards Harley Davidson baseball cap.

“I aim to please. What’s got your panties in a twist?” Adrian’s singing morphed into a buttery hum as he rolled his sleeves to his elbows and moved through the kitchen to start checking the stations. The wide expanse of his shoulders bunched and released beneath his white jacket with each movement, lean muscles flexing over the thickly-lined tattoo covering his right forearm.

Carly expelled a breath and fell into step next to him, comforted by the routine of prepping for the night. “Travis.”

All Adrian needed was the two-syllable punch to understand her sour mood. “Sorry.” His hazel eyes clouded over with a swirl of emotions Carly knew all too well. Adrian’s forehead creased, drawing the stainless steel barbell through his right eyebrow down in a slash. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah. I’d rather not talk about it.” As it was, the mere presence of Travis’s name on her tongue made her want to go brush her teeth.

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