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Among the many words underlined, circled, and struck through, MORELS caught Jax’s eye. “Is this why Adi is scooping the crab out of the mushrooms?”
Feb shoved a different printout at Jax. “This article.”
They skimmed the review, becoming more confused with each passing sentence. “Feb, this says he wanted more morels.”
“Exactly!” She flung her hands in the air, her arms like wet noodles as they flopped back to her side. “How am I supposed to know what’s the right amount? We should just eighty-six them. Fuck!” She jammed a hand in her hair, the rest of the knot falling around her face, which she didn’t seem to notice as she spun back to the table. “There was something else I just saw...”
Jax stepped out from behind the bar and over to the table. More lists, more of Pappas’s reviews, more words underlined, circled, and struck through.
Chicken.
Peas.
Seafood.
The last was enough to make Jax’s Bay Area soul shudder. “For fuck’s sake, Feb, this is San Francisco. If there’s not seafood something on the menu, it’s a red flag. You gonna toss the sourdough too?”
“There was a remark here,” she said, pushing one review pile off the table and digging into another. “But I didn’t?—”
Jax grasped her wrist and turned her away from the table. “Babe, you need to chill.” Feb’s blue eyes widened; whether from the babe or the fact someone broke through the haze, Jax didn’t know. And didn’t care. They had a teeny tiny opening; they had to take it. “We need to get out of here.” They needed to get Feb someplace her mind could get off Pappas and the V-day menu long enough for her good senses to return. Jax knew just the place, her conversation with Feb last night coming to mind.
But convincing Feb to detach herself from the panic was proving difficult. “We can’t! We have service!”
She tried to wrest her arm free, but Jax had been trained in hand-to-hand combat by experts. There was no getting loose unless Jax allowed her. That said, they didn’t want to cause Feb more panic, and by the rapid rise and fall of her chest, that was where this was headed. Too quickly. They eased their hold, a thumb sliding against the underside of Feb’s wrist and over her hammering pulse. “You need to breathe, Feb. You need to take a break.”
“But service?—”
Another swipe of their thumb, and Feb stopped struggling. Her shoulders slumped, her chin dipped the same direction, and exhaustion appeared in the cracks of Feb’s caffeine-fueled anxiety. Jax stepped closer, a gentle hand around her biceps, slowly rubbing up and down in time with their even breaths, waiting for Feb’s to slow and match. “Tell Adi to go back to the original menu, then let her handle first seating. Mo can hold down the bar without me for a few.” They squeezed Feb’s arms. “Trust me.”
Feb’s trust lasted only as long as the short cab ride from Jackson Square to North Beach. As soon as they climbed out of the car, even as Jax rotated Feb to face their destination, she was trying to get back to UTT. “Dylan, I love baked goods as much as the next person, and Angelica’s is the best in the city, but we don’t have time for this.”
Jax closed the distance between them, their front pressed to Feb’s back, their hands lightly cupping her shoulders. Pitching their voice low, aiming to distract again, they spoke right next to Feb’s ear. “What we don’t have time for is you losing your shit.”
A shiver rippled through Feb, and a shuddery breath later, Feb relaxed in their hold. “I don’t want to fuck this up. We might never get another shot at a Render review.”
“You won’t fuck it up.” Jax gave her arms a squeeze, then reluctantly stepped back and rounded to stand between her and the bakery’s plate glass window. They waited for Feb to lift her chin, wanting the chef to see the confidence in their gaze. “You’ll get your stars.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I am, because I’ve tasted your food and worked with you for the past three months. You’re that good and everyone who works with you wants it too. They want it for you.”
Feb’s answering blush was a welcome respite, her anxiety receding enough for compliments to sink in. Now to push her worry the rest of the way back. Jax jutted a thumb over their shoulder. “Everything inside AB’s is good too. How about we go reset the day?”
Inside, they’d just hung their coats on the wall pegs when a shout of “Jax!” rang out from behind the counter. Panic spiked, then eased as Jax mentally thanked their mentors for all those undercover tips about using a cover name close to their own. Feb hadn’t seemed to notice Mia calling Jax by what Feb thought was their last name. Helena’s stepdaughter hustled out from behind the counter, her long dark hair gathered into a braid over one shoulder, her apron and cheeks dusted with flour. “I have that favor ready for you.”
“Excellent,” Jax said as they gave her a sideways hug. “Thanks for pulling it together so fast.”
“Just don’t tell my uncle. I cut off his friends and family benefits at the end of January.”
Jax laughed, then, with a hand to Feb’s back, drew her closer. “Mia, I’d like you to meet February Winters, one of the best chefs in the city. Feb, this is Mia Perri—you’re gonna want to keep an eye on her. She’s one hell of a baker.”
Mia circled a hand in the air before holding it out for Feb to shake. “Like I could escape that fate.”
“You love it,” Jax said.
“I really do,” she conceded with the same wide, easy smile as her mother.
“Wait, Perri?” Feb said as she withdrew her hand. “As in Angelica Perri? You’re part of the family who owns this place?”
