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Chapter One
Elle Thomas sat behind the desk in her office going over the catering menu and ingredient list for the JDC event. She’d become a partner at Edible Innovations a little over six months ago. Since then, her workload had nearly doubled, but she wouldn’t trade a minute of it. She loved the fast pace and constant attention to detail that it required.
Her friend Sara had started the catering business a few years back and Elle had gone to work for her as a receptionist. As the business grew, she’d started doing some of the scheduling and bookkeeping. Eventually she was doing most of the paperwork, all of the scheduling, and some of the hiring. About that time, Sara had met Deacon.
Well, Elle mused, smiling. Maybe met wasn’t the right word. Sara had rediscovered him. Six rather intense months later, they had gotten engaged. Soon after, Sara had broached the subject of making her partner. Elle had been shocked, but she’d jumped at the opportunity.
She’d gotten to learn so much about the food side of the business in the past few months. It had been a little bumpy at first, but she was damn good in the kitchen now. She gave the lists one last review and decided that she was as prepared as she possibly could be. Still, she was a little apprehensive about this particular event. JDC was their biggest client.
Looking at the clock now, she realized it was 6:30 p.m. Scooting her chair back, she moved to the mirror on the wall. She combed her fingers through her wavy, blond hair. She adjusted her jeweled barrettes and left her office. She walked into the kitchen, grabbed an apron from the hook on the wall, then said, “Sara. I’m free now. What do you need?”
Sara glanced up from the dough that she was sending through the pasta sheet attachment of her mixer and gave a slightly doughy fist pump.
“Yes! Can you mince me six heads of garlic to start? And that bag of shallots too.”
Elle grimaced and said, “That’s a lot of garlic and onion. Do they not realize this is a wedding?”
“I warned them, but they said they wanted authentic,” Sara said with a shrug.
Continuing to grimace, Elle donned her hairnet and gloves. Choosing a chef’s knife from the block, she got to work mincing the shallots. Twenty minutes later she was startled out of her shallot-chopping haze when she heard Sara call her name.
“Huh? Sorry. I was in the zone. What’s up?” she asked, looking over at Sara.
“I asked,” Sara said, “if you’re ready for JDC?”
“Oh, oh. Yeah. I think so. Tomorrow I’ll go over early to check the food in and start prep. Tom is coming with me, so that should be good, right?” Elle asked.
“Absolutely. Excited to see Jim?” Sara
teased.
Elle felt her face flush at the mention of his name, but she still rolled her eyes dismissively.
“Between you and Deacon and Chris and Chloe, when we all hang out, he feels like a fifth wheel too. That’s the only reason he pays attention to me. Guys that look like him don’t go for girls that look like me,” Elle said, gesturing downward to her body.
Sara put the pasta dough she was working on down on the counter and said, “Don’t make me come over there! Why the hell would he not be interested in you? You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re an amazing human being. You’ve got curves. So what? Not all men want a stick figure. He’d be lucky to have you. No more of that self-deprecating crap.”
Elle let out a surprised laugh and said, “Easy, tiger. He just strikes me as the type that would want his women to be fit like he is.”
Scraping the last of the shallots into a container, she continued on, saying, “I think he’s just a flirt. We’ve been going back and forth for months now. If he was going to make a move, he probably would have already.”
Laughing, Sara said, “You didn’t see the way he was staring at you when you took off your cover up at the beach last weekend.”
“I think he had already taken his shirt off by that point. I was trying not to stare at him, so I didn’t notice,” Elle said, grinning.
“His chest is unbelievable,” Sara said, in agreement. “Don’t tell Deacon I said that, though, please.”
Elle laughed as she smashed a few cloves of garlic with the flat of the knife blade. “Who’d have thought Deacon would have a jealous streak?”
“I know, right?” Sara agreed, laughing.
They settled back into comfortable silence as they worked on their tasks. That, of course, gave Elle’s mind a chance to wander back to Jim. He was a strange mix of cordial and flirty. Sometimes it seemed like he was interested in her, and sometimes it seemed like he was just being polite when they were together.
It didn’t really matter. She was ridiculously busy with work now, so it was difficult to imagine how she’d fit a relationship into her life. She’d love to be one of those women who could just go out and casually date, but she was a romantic at heart. If she knew there wasn’t a future, she just really didn’t see the point.
By 9:30 p.m. she was exhausted. She’d been chopping, dicing, and mincing for the last three hours. Her hand was starting to cramp.
Elle said, “I’m exhausted and my hand is cramping from all the chopping. I’ve gotta be at JDC at eight. Is it okay if I head out for the night?”
Sara looked up at her from the counter where she was stuffing chicken breast and asked, “What time did you come in?”
“Not sure. Caught the sunrise on the drive over, though,” Elle said, rotating her wrist to combat the stiffness.
“Jesus. You’re turning into me. Fifteen hours is more than enough. Go home. Take a bubble bath.”
“I won’t argue. Night. Go home soon, so Deacon doesn’t send a search party after you,” Elle said, only half kidding.
“I will. I told him 11:00 p.m. at the latest. I may stop in at JDC and help after the wedding tomorrow if I’m not whipped,” Sara said.
Elle frowned and said, “I’ll be fine. Don’t you dare stop by. Tom and I will kick some ass. We always do.”
“Just for a second to say hi, then. I won’t hover,” Sara said, grinning.
With a sigh, Elle said, “If you must,” and then grinned.
Peeling out of her hairnet and gloves, she tossed both in the trash. She took off her apron and went to grab her things out of the office. Stopping by the kitchen one last time, she said good-night and left for the evening.
It was nights like this one when she was glad that she lived close to work. Within ten minutes of leaving the office, she was home. Stripping out of her clothes, she tossed them in the laundry basket and headed toward the shower. Turning the water on, she let the shower warm up.
Studying herself critically in the mirror, she liked what she saw. Her hair was a little bit past shoulder length and wavy. It looked decent even after spending a few hours in a hairnet. She took her barrettes out and fussed with her hair a moment. Realizing she was about to get in the shower and that it was pointless to worry about her hair, she stepped under the spray.
Twenty minutes later she was clean and relaxed. She changed into a long T-shirt and moved out to the kitchen. Surveying the contents of her refrigerator, she found the leftover macaroni and cheese from the other night. She’d been fiddling in the kitchen. She’d combined some wild mushrooms and white cheddar with a béchamel sauce. It had been a little rich on its own, but when you added it to pasta, it had been perfect. She had sprinkled the top with bread crumbs and toasted them in the oven. The result had been amazing.
She’d taken it in to show Sara, she was so proud of it. Sara had asked her a few questions about how she made it, then asked if she could put it on the official tasting menu. Elle had tried not to visibly spaz out but assumed she had been unsuccessful in hiding her glee. She had been really excited about being able to contribute to the food side of the business.
Scooping a serving into a bowl, she microwaved it. Opening a diet cola, she waited impatiently in front of the microwave until the timer went off. She pulled the too hot dish out, setting it on the counter with a curse. Picking it up with a towel, she moved the dish to the dining room table and sat down.
She opened her laptop and went through her personal e-mails while she waited for her food to cool. She saw one from her mother. Clicking, she read the woeful diatribe about daughters that never called their mothers. Snorting, she continued to read as her mother described a recent incident where her father accidentally shot the couch while cleaning his gun. The bullet had gone through the back, and embedded itself in the wall. They’d been really lucky they didn’t have any company over at the time.
Shaking her head now, Elle laughed. Her father was a menace. Her mother was a nag. She desperately missed them both. When she’d moved to Los Angeles originally, it had been for a guy. The relationship lasted a few months, but she’d absolutely fallen in love with the city. The thought of moving back to Bakersfield made her shudder at this point. There was nothing inherently wrong with it, but it was certainly no LA.
Clicking reply, she quickly typed an apology along with a promise to call tomorrow. She added a humble request that her mother confiscate and lock up her father’s gun. For all the good that would do, she thought, shaking her head.
Putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she moved back toward her bedroom. Turning on the television so she’d have some background noise, she set the alarm and crawled into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
By midmorning the next day, Elle had threatened the produce delivery man with bodily harm when he tried to leave her with rusty lettuce and had sent back the meat and seafood delivery man for the rest of her order. Otherwise the check-in of the food had gone well.
