AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Carla did not look giddy. She looked like she’d spent the night before partying. Her hair, which was usually in a tight server’s bun, was wild and sticking out in multiple directions. She normally took out her nose ring before her shift, but now it was on full display, and her skin was splotchy, like she’d just rolled out of bed. She was shuffling like her head hurt.
“Nico is hyped up?” He was the general manager and he was a pretty no-nonsense kind of guy. I wouldn’t have described him as someone who got easily excited.
Martin was standing in the corner, talking to the bartender. I went over, unzipping my leather jacket. “Hey, does anyone know what is going on?” I fully expected Martin to mention his promotion or hint.
My co-workers both shrugged.
“No, I have no clue at all,” Martin said, actually looking seriously annoyed. “And if you don’t know what is going on either, you know what that means.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re joking. Nico and Sid wouldn’t. Would they?”
The door to the kitchen flew open and the most junior staff server, Raul, came out with a tray with plates on it. Appetizers.
“Apparently, they would,” Martin said grimly.
The owner, Sid, had gone and hired someone from outside the restaurant to be the new executive chef.
Sid followed behind Raul, beaming and calling out a greeting. “Grab a seat, everyone. We have some exciting news.”
I swallowed hard, unprepared for the shift in fortune. I could work under Martin. I knew him, knew his quirks and demands and strengths. I did not want to work under a total stranger. That would be a complete pain in the ass, adjusting to a brand-new personality in our kitchen.
Yanking out a chair next to where Martin had just sat down, I dropped my ass onto the wood, eyeing the appetizers Raul was placing around. It wasn’t a dish currently on the menu. It appeared to be a pickle fry. I tasted the tip. Spicy.
Sid was going on and on about the appetizer, acting like it was the most creative thing since avocado toast.
It was a fried dill pickle. Nothing super innovative about that, though damn it, that spicy breading was really tasty.
I glanced over at Martin. He was fuming. I reached under the table and squeezed his thigh. If I was pissed, he had twice as much reason to be angry. It also sucked big-time that neither Sid nor Nico thought that maybe a heads-up for me and Martin would have been appropriate. Just take the two chefs aside and explain their decision-making process so that we weren’t both sitting there feeling like complete underappreciated losers.
“It’s just okay,” I murmured to Martin under my breath.
“My fourteen-year-old can make this,” was his response.
I didn’t doubt it. Martin had one of those amazingly talented and creative families. His wife was a professor of women’s studies at Fordham, his son was the state cello champion, and his eighteen-year-old daughter was a huge civil rights activist.
I shoved the pickle around on the plate, fighting the urge to stab it repeatedly with my fork. Martin had gotten a really raw deal.
Nico came out of the kitchen.
“So I’m asking all of you to give a huge welcome to our new executive chef, who comes to us by way of the Greenhouse Tavern, Sean Kincaid.”
My head snapped up.
Oh, no.
Oh, hell no.
It couldn’t be.
There had to be more than one Sean Kincaid, right?
If there was, it didn’t matter, because this was the same one.
The very same jerk-off I’d been stuck in an elevator with for eight minutes last December. My friend Felicia’s now brother-in-law since Felicia and Michael had eloped.
The man who had brought up every competitive bone in my body, and got me hot and bothered all at the same time. The man who had kissed me like we were going down with the ship and needed to spend our last moments on earth in carnal pleasure. The man who I had spent the next few nights in bed alone both fuming and fantasizing about.
There he was. In my restaurant. Standing in front of the kitchen door, Nico’s a
