Page 47 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Not that I’ve been watching for her like a stalker.

Nope. Definitely not.

Even if I had seen her, I don’t know what I would have done. Definitely not ignore her—I’m not that big of an asshole. But I’ve never been in a situation like this before—I actually care about someone I fucked. And I have to see the person day in and day out for who knows how long.

I’m completely unprepared for the depths of what that means, and it makes her absence even more troublesome, not to mention makes me even more uneasy that something might be wrong.

She’s a workhorse, like me, here early in the morning and late at night. Always doing something. It’s not like her to duck out and not be around.

If I had her number, I would be tempted to call and check in on her, but that might also give her the wrong impression. Or maybe the right impression I want to be wrong about. Because I can’t actually have feelings for this woman. That wouldn’t do at all.

Fuck. I royally fucked this up.

“Jameson?” Rachel’s voice draws me back to the present matters at hand. “Can we open one of these?” She holds up a bottle of wine she must have pulled from one of the wine fridges along the back wall of the bar. “Or two?”

I’ve already chosen wine pairings to go with the food tonight, but Rach is always telling me I need to break free of my stringent plans and “live a little.” Maybe a random bottle of wine can be her “win” in that regard.

“Of course.”

Flynn claps his hands and rubs them together. “Excellent, man. I’m fucking starving, too. It was a long flight.”

Greer steps up next to me and pushes up to kiss my cheek. She lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You really did an amazing job. I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know in the league to come here when they’re in town.”

That would be huge. Me on the NHL upper echelon’s radar. Media covering players and management eating here. FURY splashed across social media by the stars of various teams.

I offer her a genuine smile. Greer is so nice and good-natured; it’s hard not to like her. I can see why Bash didn’t stand a chance once he met her. He was doomed from day one…almost like it seems I was with the blonde next door.

Bash joins us in the center of the restaurant next to the long table I had custom-made to seat large parties. “When do we eat?”

I sigh, glance at my watch, and then toward the kitchen. “Maybe an hour? I have a few more things to finish up. I wasn’t expecting you guys so early.”

It would have been nice to have my full kitchen staff here to help me prepare everything for tonight, but that seemed a bit like overkill for a family meal—even if I am cooking almost the entire menu for them to try. I’ve already had my new employees come in a few times to test some recipes with me, and I’m confident in who I’ve hired, but this felt more like a family thing. Not something I want to be interrupted by work.

Flynn and Rachel join us with their bottle of wine and five glasses and set them on the table. It’s disgusting how happy they are together, but we all saw it coming years ago. The surprise was really how long it took them to figure it the fuck out.

Rach grins at me and waves the bottle back and forth. “Well, before you head back to your domain, I propose a toast.”

She pours some of the Pinot Noir and hands it out. Everyone raises their glass, except me, because it seems awfully weird to be toasting myself.

Tears shimmer in Rach’s eyes, and she swallows slowly, like she’s trying to force down some emotion clogging her throat. “To Jameson, who finally got his shit together.”

I groan as we all clink glasses. “Jesus, thanks.”

She grins at me, the true depth of how proud she is of me shining back. “Anytime.”

Movement at the propped-open front door catches my attention, but by the time I shift my focus, there’s nothing but an empty sidewalk visible. On a gorgeous summer night like this, it wouldn’t surprise me if there are people out walking the neighborhood and trying to catch an early peek at what’s happening in here since we have the door ajar.

Rachel squeezes my arm and motions to the table. “We can set the table while you’re finishing up. Where are all the place settings and cutlery?”

I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I meant to talk to you about that. I have some temporary stuff in the kitchen we can use tonight, but it’s one of the last things I’ve been dragging my ass on—choosing place settings, cutlery, wine glasses, and all the other little shit. Grant says I need a woman’s touch.”

She chuckles and nudges me with her hip with an eyebrow raised playfully. “Are you asking for my help?”

Everyone, including her, knows exactly how much I hate to admit that. The glee growing on her face while she waits for my response makes me twist my lips into a frown. But if I want her help, I’m going to have to concede.

“Yes. Would you be willing to go shopping with me tomorrow during the day? I have something going on tomorrow night, and I don’t think we’ll have time before the game Thursday.”

“Was that really so hard?”

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