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I take a slow turn, drinking it all in as I bite my lip. “Wow,” I say. “They didn’t spare any expense, did they?”
Zander chuckles, nodding. “Not bad, right? When he asked me what kind of gear I wanted, I aimed high. I was fully expecting him to come back with cheaper options, at least in some areas.” He puts his palm on a gleaming cooktop, lips curving up in a smile. “The guy just signed off and bought every single thing I asked for.” He shakes his head, as if he’s still wrapping his mind around it.
I idly run my fingertip across the handle of a Japanese chef’s knife polished to perfection. Him. He means Nolan, and for some reason, that makes my skin prickle.
“So,” Zander says. He crosses his arms, which draws my eyes to his tattooed forearms and slender fingers. “I gave your resume a long look last night. I’m impressed. Your references from Escoffier were glowing. Creative. Complex palette. A knack for unexpected flavor profiles and an ability to improvise. I do value an experienced staff, but I also believe in bringing fresh eyes and new talent. I think we could use someone exactly like you here.”
I’m flattered, and it must show because his smile broadens.
“I’d love to be part of the team,” I say. “Honestly, this job is a dream for me. It’s an exciting restaurant where I’ll be challenged and I can grow. It’s in my hometown. It’s…” I laugh softly. “I don’t know if there’s a more perfect opportunity than this.”
Just as Zander opens his mouth to reply, the back door slams open and Nolan strides in, his presence like a sudden drop in temperature. His gaze lands on us, darkening when he sees how close Zander and I are standing together.
I reflexively take a step back from Zander.
“Nolan,” Zander says, unfazed. “You remember Mia, right? I mentioned her in my email. Mia, this is Nolan Saulters. He’s the money behind Taste, and quite the cook himself.”
Nolan must not like something in Zander’s introduction, because he seems to stiffen. But then he turns his attention to me, paralyzing me with his gaze. Any warmth from Zander and his greeting evaporates under Nolan’s icy attention. “Of course,” Nolan says, voice tight. “How could I forget?”
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.” Anger mingles with my surprise at seeing him. The interview was going so well. If he’d just stayed away and not barged in, it felt like Zander was about to shake my hand and tell me when I could start.
Nolan crosses his arms, jaw set. “It’s my restaurant. Where else would I be?”
My stupid mouth opens before my brain can play catchup. “Maybe some random woman’s bed?” I immediately clap my hands over my mouth, regret rushing up like bile in my throat. What the hell was that, Mia?
For a millisecond, Nolan’s face is only shock and outrage. Zander’s eyebrows are raised and he’s staring, open-mouthed. I think about how unprofessional I must look to him right now.
I brace myself for an angry outburst from Nolan, but his rage quickly morphs into a smile that is so much worse than the anger I expected.
Nolan reaches over and taps the clipboard beside Zander with my resume. “Hire her,” he says. “Interview’s over.”
“Uh,” Zander hesitates, then looks back at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, hating myself right now. “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have–”
“You start tomorrow. Have Zander get you a uniform before you head out. Make sure it fits, and trim your nails before tomorrow. They’re too long for my kitchen.” Nolan puts a hand on Zander’s shoulder and leans in, whispering something in his ear.
Nolan’s icy gaze lands on me once more and I think he’s about to say something. Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves out the back door without another word.
“Well,” Zander says, recovering well enough from his surprise and confusion. “Welcome to Taste, Mia.”
6
NOLAN
Ipause outside Jesse’s cabin. I saw the guys hanging out as I pulled up the long driveway and considered turning around. But where the hell would I go?
I consider heading back to Taste. Being there was amazing. Sure, it’s bittersweet to create the restaurant of my dreams and hand the keys to someone else. But it’s close enough. Right? Close enough to the vision of where I want to be–in some fantasy land where I would actually have time to play in the NHL and run a high-end restaurant.
I know I can’t do both, so this is going to have to be good enough. For now, at least.
But going there would mean seeing Zander. Up until about half an hour ago, I had no issues with the guy. I hand picked him and made him a way-too-generous offer to come work for me. I wanted the best, and I got what I wanted.
Now, though? Now I’m just imagining the look on Mia’s face when I barged in on them at Taste. I see the way she was looking up at him, eyes big and full of hope. Lips wet as if she’d just licked them. Cheeks red like she was flattered by his attention.
The memory turns my stomach. And what happens if I go back and find her still there? What if he’s flirting with her? I’m not sure I could stop myself from doing something rash.
So I’m not going back to Taste right now. I’m also not going back to the cabin. Mia would eventually come back and I’d either wind up kissing her out of a misguided possessive impulse or picking another fight.
