Page 16 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Anna sticks her head in. “Oh, good, you’re still available.”

“Do you have a question?” I would have thought she’d be long gone by now. It’s been at least ten minutes since she left.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and glances around, avoiding eye contact.

A leaden ball drops into my stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Ummm…” She rubs the back of her neck. “As I was leaving, I happened to bump into the owner of the place next door…”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.

I jump to my feet.

He didn’t…

She sighs and finally meets my stare. “And well…he asked if I had interviewed with you and wanted to see my resumé, so I gave him a copy, and…”

NO!

“He offered me twice what you’re going to pay me, plus benefits.”

Jesus. That bastard. Now he’s poaching my staff?

I somehow manage to find my voice. “Are you kidding?”

Anna winces and shakes her head. At least she has the decency to look sheepish and apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry. I know we hit it off, and I do want to work here, but…”

“You said you didn’t want to work at a stuffy, high-end restaurant. That’s exactly what that jerk next door is going to open.”

She raises one shoulder and lets it fall. “But that jerk next door also has huge street cred and a recognizable name. I don’t want to sound like a greedy bitch, but I’m probably going to get bigger tips at a place that sells more expensive food and has a celebrity chef.”

That motherfucker.

I fist my hands at my sides and fight the slight wave of dizziness that tries to overtake me.

Don’t let yourself get worked up, Iz.

Grams’ constant reminder rings in my head.

Don’t push yourself too hard. You can’t give one hundred and ten percent all the time.

I take a deep, cleansing breath. “There’s no way for me to convince you otherwise?”

Anna shakes her head and puts her hand on the door handle. “I’m sorry.”

Shit.

I sigh and drop my head back. “Well, at least I have a whole stack of applicants. Hopefully, at least a few of them will be interested.”

“Ummmm…”

Oh, God. What now?

I open my eyes and lower my head back down so I can look at her. “What?”

“Well”—she glances at the door—“I saw him grab a guy off the street who seemed to be walking this way. I think it was your next interview.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” I clench my jaw and storm toward her.

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