“Not like that, he doesn’t. I have to admit, you’re bucking the trend and making an impression on senior management. Leo and I had a bet on how long you'd last."
I stop walking. "Excuse me?"
Mark has the grace to look sheepish. "To be fair, I bet for you. Leo said two weeks. I said you'd make it to two months."
"Good to know you have confidence in me.” I roll my eyes.
"You’ve lasted two months and one day." He holds up his hand. "You made me fifty quid. I owe you a drink."
Before I can decide whether to be flattered or offended, Leo appears on my other side. He's older than Mark, mid-thirties, already graying at the temples, with the kind of weathered calm that only comes from more than a decade on the line.
"Don't listen to him." Leo stabs his thumb in Mark’s direction. "I bet against you because I bet against everyone. Nothing personal."
"How reassuring."
"But for what it's worth—" He lowers his voice as we pass a cluster of line cooks. "You're the first woman to make it to two months."
That stops me cold. "What?"
“Last woman who made it past the trial shift was a pastry chef from Lyon,” Leo continues. “Talented as hell. Left after three weeks.”
“What happened?”
Leo and Mark exchange a look.
“James happened,” Mark scoffs.
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“She came onto the big man. Right there in the kitchen. In front of everyone. James fired her on the spot. Told her to walk.”
Oh.
I wince.
Not that it’s surprising women would throw themselves at James Hamilton. But hearing it said out loud makes something settle uncomfortably in my stomach. The last thing I want is for anyone to think I’m one of them.
Especially him.
I’ve been so focused on keeping up with him in the kitchen that I haven’t stopped to think about how my reactions to him might look to everyone else. Especially because I can’t ignore the simmering tension between us.
Something needs to change. From now on, I’m going to keep this unexplained pull toward my boss firmly in check.
I’ll keep my distance. No lingering looks. No reacting to him more than necessary. The last thing I need is my irritation at his micromanaging being mistaken for something else. And it is only irritation. It’s not attraction.
Best to change the subject before I give anything away.
“I wish I could do something about poor Ollie.” I glance toward James’s office.
The two of them exchange another look.
“Umm, don’t contradict James.” Mark gives me a worried glance.
Leo does a double take. “Damn woman, do you have steel balls?”
“Nope. Just a heart.”
Leo and Mark continue toward their stations. I stay where I am.
