AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Pain streaked across Jax’s face, mixed with the earlier regret, but a blink later they locked it down. Raised their chin and tangled their fingers with hers. “Yeah, Feb, you do.”
“And that’s the last first seating served!” Lacey said as she twirled her way back into the kitchen, serving tray empty but for the smoke wand and glass dome they were using for tonight’s apple crostata with burnt sugar glaze.
Everyone cheered, a few others danced at their stations too, the kitchen heaving a collective sigh of relief. Everyone except Feb, who stood near the freezers at the back. She glanced at the clock; half past eight. Pappas—or whatever his name was—would arrive within the next half hour.
In the dining room, Jax’s colleagues had been steadily trickling in, Feb noticing them each time she delivered a main course to one of the real diners in the early seatings. Chris and Mel had arrived first, then Brax and Helena, then a few other folks who Jax had showed her photos of that afternoon. The last real diners would be finishing soon, the tables turning over for the second seatings. Everyone left in the dining room would be fake diners. Maybe Feb would feel some relief, then. As her gaze swept across the kitchen, she called that lie for the bullshit it was. Who was she kidding? Between her staff and the space itself, too much was still at risk.
Including Jax.
Adi waved from where she stood across the kitchen at the expeditor station. “Breathe, chef,” she teased with a smile. “This is going smoother than we expected.”
“No shit,” Chloe said. “The single reservations keep things moving.”
“And you’ve been kicking ass on the sauces,” Adi commended her.
“She’s right,” Feb added. “Good job, Clo.” She’d seemed nervous at first when Feb had put her on the line as saucier after Juan had called out sick, but she’d risen to the task.
As had Helena’s brother, Hawes, who the rest of the kitchen thought was a temp she’d called in on the good word of Amanda and Justin. To most eyes, he was a natural in the kitchen, the sharp-featured man with light brown hair and chilly blue eyes the definition of meticulous. His prep station was pathologically neat, his knife work impeccable, his speed at tweezer-plucking herb leaves off sprigs frightening. He was friendly enough, efficient and deferential, all qualities you’d expect of the new person in any kitchen. But Feb saw what her other chefs missed—Hawes regularly glancing up to survey the space and the people in it, the tic of his jaw as he resisted giving orders, the way he’d rub his ear and angle his face away, speaking to their team through the in-ear comm Feb knew he wore.
Feb had refused the comm Hawes had offered her. She needed as much of her attention as she could wrest control of on the kitchen. Assessing each station, she deduced from there where things stood in the dining room. Pappas would be one of the last two seatings at nine. Before that, two others would arrive at quarter till. And the diners who’d arrived at twenty-five and were now arriving at thirty-five would have their tickets in shortly. Only six tickets left to cycle through.
“Tell them to go,” Hawes said as he passed her on the way back from the pantry. “As they finish up.”
“Read my mind,” Feb said.
He smirked and the resemblance to his sister’s crooked grin was uncanny, though less vipery on him. Until he picked up the chef’s knife at his station and sliced apples faster and thinner than should have been possible without a lifetime of training and practice. Maybe viper wasn’t dangerous enough. Ignoring the reality careening out of control around her, Feb focused on the tiny piece of here and now she could manage. “Listen up,” she said, voice raised. “We’ve got six more tickets coming in. As you finish those up, get out of here.” Adi opened her mouth to object, but Feb raised a hand, forestalling her. “None of you were supposed to have to work tonight. Take the rest of it off.”
“You don’t have to do it all yourself,” Lacey said.
“I won’t be. Ja—Dylan and new guy will help me close.”
“If you’re sure...” Adi said, doubt swirling in her dark eyes.
Feb nodded. “I’m sure.”
She still didn’t look completely convinced, but Adi had worked with her long enough to know when her mind was made up. She seconded the call to the kitchen. “You heard the chef. When your courses are done, skedaddle.”
Folks tried to hide their smiles, tried to hide the energy they turned back to their stations with, but Feb recognized the higher gear her chefs shifted into as they prepped their final courses. Recognized it too of the newest person on the line.
“Nice work,” Hawes said as she wandered closer.
“I just want everyone out of here.”
He flipped her a slice of apple with his knife. “We’ll get them out safe and sound, and you too.”
“So much for my date tonight,” she said before biting through the translucent-thin slice. “Your knife skills are incredible. What is it your side of their family does?” After her earlier near slip, Feb was careful not to use Jax’s name, fairly certain Hawes would follow.
He chuckled. “Not half as good as Hena’s,” he said, avoiding the other part of her question. But not the first part of her grumble. “We are sorry about the date. We’ll make it up to you.”
“If I even still want to go on it...”
“This is a lot, I know.” He scraped the rest of the slices into a bowl, added brown sugar and cinnamon, then gave the apples a toss. He stepped away to hand them off to Lacey, then, once back at his station, met Feb’s gaze again. “But they’re one of the good ones. You couldn’t do much better.”
Feb knew that about Dylan, but did she know that about Jax? She could give them a chance, give herself the opportunity to find out, but they’d lied to her the past three months. Burned her trust already. Perhaps not like others in the past—Jax wasn’t going to steal her restaurant concept like Brett had—but stealing her heart... That was a definite possibility with the direction things had been going with Dylan. The attraction was there physically, and Feb had also been attracted to the person she’d been getting to know. How much of that person was really Jax?
A question for another day because judging by Jax’s posture as they appeared at the kitchen entrance—shoulders reared back, eyes frantically searching, hand lifting then stopping short of running over their head—there was a bigger problem here and now. Their gaze found her and Hawes, and for a moment, it looked like they were going to take off at a sprint toward them, until they seemed to remember the rest of the kitchen. They reined in their obvious panic and slowed their steps, the latter enough for Adi to catch them on their way past and offer a bite of crabby morel. Smiling, they popped it in their mouth, then continued to where Feb and Hawes stood at his station. “Pappas is here early,” they said.
“How many real diners are left?” Hawes asked. He lined his knives up on a cutting board as if he were about to clean them. Feb didn’t think so.
