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Well, fuck.
With a slow, steadying breath, he twisted in his chair a second time. A woman stood just inside the dining room, her honey blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun and cheerful yellow letters on her apron spelling out Lola’s Café.
Her beauty took his breath away for a moment, even with the scowl narrowing her eyes and forming harsh lines around her pursed lips.
“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce Addison Walker,” Gabriel said in a clipped tone.
Addison and Mason stared at each other, the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner the only sound in the room. Everyone else seemed to be holding their breath as they waited to see what would happen next. Christ almighty, could this get any more uncomfortable?
After the longest, most awkward silence of his life, Addison forced her features into a calm, serene mask. Her hands remained fisted at her sides. Turning to Gabriel, she said, “I hope I didn’t upend my entire life and move up here for nothing.” Then she stalked from the room with quick strides, disappearing in the direction of the lobby.
Mason stared after her long after she left, afraid to look at the others still in the room. This was not going to go well.
With a sigh, he forced himself to face the music. Straightening in his chair, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and said, “I apologize. I definitely could’ve handled that better.”
“Ya think?” Aiden said, rolling his eyes. At least he seemed to be lingering somewhere closer to exasperation than actual anger.
Gabriel was a different story entirely. With his gaze focused solely on Mason, he looked about ready to spit fire. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “I’ve put everything I have into this kitchen. It’s been my entire life since the Manor opened. I’ve been here nearly every goddamn day for seven fucking years. I’ve worked my ass off to give you the gourmet food you wanted, and not once in all that time did we get a single bad review. And you know what? I’m fucking tired. I deserve a break every now and then. So you either give me this or you can find a new head chef.” He stalked out of the room without a backward glance.
“Wow,” Camden said, reaching for the abandoned cinnamon roll in the center of the table. “Gabriel De Leon pissed off and giving ultimatums. Never thought I’d live to see that day.”
Well, at least one of them was too distracted by food to rip him a new one. He’d take what he could get.
Steeling up his courage, he forced himself to look at Jonathan. The cold fury filling his friend’s eyes sent guilt spiraling through him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Fix this,” was Jonathan’s only reply. Then he swept his gaze around the table. “Meeting fucking adjourned.” Snatching his car keys off the table, Jonathan left the room with long, swift strides, clearly too angry to deal with Mason’s bullshit.
Mason felt pretty much the same way. But how did one stop their own stupid bullshit when they never intended to do it in the first place?
Heaving a deep sigh, Rafe stood as well. “I’m heading home to Nell. I’ll see you guys later.” He didn’t meet Mason’s eyes before he walked away.
“I’m sorry,” Mason said again, looking at the other two.
“I know,” Aiden said, his voice kinder than all the others. “Maybe you need a break. Do you have one of your trips coming up?”
Mason took time off to travel every two to three months, each time choosing a random place on the map. The only thing these places had in common? They were all somewhere he’d never been before. His vacations were the only thing he loved more than his job.
“Not until the last week of February.” The trip to Chile had been booked for months now. He couldn’t fucking wait to explore that new corner of the world.
The look in his friend’s eyes made it clear he thought that wasn’t nearly soon enough. “Well, I’m not sure what’s been going on with you recently, but I’m here if you ever want to talk, okay?”
Mason opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t figure out what to say. Deny anything was wrong? Apologize again? Thank him for the offer and then politely decline out of some idiotic sense of masculinity?
In the end, he only nodded.
“All right,” Aiden said, getting to his feet. “My next guest doesn’t get here until Tuesday. See you then.”
“Here,” Camden said once it was just the two of them, sliding the plate back across the table. “I saved you a couple bites. Eat this, admit you were wrong, and everyone will calm the fuck down.”
With a resigned sigh, Mason picked up his fork and stabbed one of the remaining gooey bites. Camden was right. Whether he thought the angry blonde was worth what Gabriel wanted to pay her or not, he could only fix this one way.
When the bite hit his tongue, he tasted exactly what he expected to—cinnamon, brown sugar, and a cream cheese glaze. It was tasty enough, sure, but he didn’t see why the others went gaga over it. He felt almost vindicated about the Cinnabon comment, even if he did know it was a dick thing to say.
As soon as he started to chew, everything changed.
Instead of the pure sweetness he expected, it had a warm, almost spicy undertone. Ginger maybe? And what he thought were raisins burst on his tongue with the tartness of dried cranberries.
Eyes wide with surprise, he pulled apart the layers of the final bite. Tiny pieces of candied ginger hid in the filling. And the dough...so ridiculously light and fluffy it almost felt like eating air.
