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“What did Elisa order?” he asked, heading for the wash sink.
“The triple cheese omelet with a side of sautéed mushrooms. Speaking of which—” She jabbed her finger toward Buckley’s Chance’s saucier. “Luka, sauteed mushrooms to accompany a triple-cheese—”
“I got it,” Angus cut her off.
“Still the control freak.” She leant her hip against the wash sink’s edge. “Cooking for the future missus, eh?”
He chuckled under his breath. Missus.
“I’m assuming you’ll be buying her a ring from Tiffany’s?”
Turning, he flicked warm sudsy water from his fingers at her, and then headed for the sauteing zone.
He’d designed Buckley’s Chance’s kitchen layout himself, preferring an open layout with dedicated stations so his team could move easily and not stumble over each other, particularly during the main dining periods. Each station was designed to his specifications; all fitted out with appliances and equipment he’d handpicked.
When it came to his kitchen, he liked—needed—control. He wasn’t oblivious to what it meant: while he’d had no control of the chaos of his father’s violence and his mother’s alcoholism, he had control of the chaos of meal creation.
Control freak.
Arriving in the sauteing zone, he sought out his favorite Henckels paring knife. The perfect knife for preparing mushrooms to be sautéed.
“Now, your engagement party?” Kara plucked the paring knife from the block before he could, studying its edge as she leant against the counter. “I’m torn between wanting to cater it and wanting to just be there as a guest.”
He held out his hand. “Knife.”
She ignored the request. “And you’ll no doubt be inviting Nora to the wedding?”
“As if.” Okay, he’d use the Wusthof instead.
“Given you’re inhereinstead of being outtherewith your fiancée,” Kara placed his Henckels on the counter in front of him, “I think the only way to convince Nora your engagement is real is to invite her to the wedding.”
He stopped reaching for his preferred knife. Turned his frown to his sous chef. “You think…”
“I do.” She nodded. “Get your ass back out there. Be seen being the opposite of an available man. Be seen being taken. Be seen being in love.”
It made sense. Nora wasn’t the type to admit defeat. But how could he impress Elisa with his cooking if he wasn’t doing it?
Something tight curled around his chest. Impress her? Did he want to impress her? Yes. Of course he bloody-well did. From the second she’d handed him his passport, he’d wanted to impress her. What was he going to do about it?
“Don’t fuck up the mushrooms,” he ordered, pointing at Kara.
She snorted. “When have Ieverfucked up the mushrooms?”
Chest growing tighter, he turned and strode through his kitchen.
“Hey, boss?”
Kara’s call stopped him at the door to the dining area. He frowned. “What?”
“What doyouwant to eat for this important meal?”
“My favorite,” he threw back, before pushing on the swinging door and exiting the kitchen.
Eyes bored into him the second the door swung closed behind him, but he ignored their heavy weight. Nora didn’t need to know he was aware she watched him.
He fixed his focus on the table where Elisa, her sisters, and Owen now sat. Elisa faced the window and its sweeping multi-million-dollar views of Sydney Harbor, her fingers threading through the long strands of her hair as if pulling if back into a ponytail.
What would it feel like, streaming through his own fingers? Cool? Silky smooth?
