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She nodded and looked to the side.
“I think they tried to recreate yours. They didn’t. What did you put in there? Crack? They’re addicting.”
She met my gaze again with the beginnings of a smile. Straight white teeth bit into her plump bottom lip. Damn, that mouth was distracting. It’d been a while since I spent time with a mouth like hers.
“No, just good cooking.” She exhaled a sigh. “Baking doesn’t always turn out the same for different bakers. It doesn’t work like that, the magic. It’s my grandmother’s original recipe. I made a few changes, added the extra spice.”
“Did you make other dishes at Hill & Ocean?” If she made the chicken and biscuits they had served for Sunday brunch, I might have to change my stance on commitment. They, too, had dropped from the menu, and my stomach growled louder this time at that possibility.
“A few things. The chocolate hand pies, the teriyaki chicken Katsu with wasabi biscuits.” Bingo! I couldn’t hold back my grin.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Bakker, was there anything else? I still have some work to do.”
I moved closer. “Call me Lucas.” Her expression remained stony, but in her eyes, I saw warm flecks of gold near the iris that matched a few strands of light brown on the edges of her hair. “I wanted to tell you I liked the cake, and I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thank you, Lucas.” She turned and walked away before I could say anything else.
What the hell just happened? The chef from Hill & Ocean was hot, and she was in Perry Harbor making meals for our farm crews? This was awesome. And Emily said she was taking on clients as a personal chef. Perfect. I definitely needed a personal chef. I needed her.
True, things didn’t start off well. She took one look at me and was instantly pissed. Everyone said she was a sweetheart, even my dad, though he was becoming more of a softie lately. Her food was excellent, and I had to have it. Finally, something was going right again. I’d give her a little time, then reach out with a dream deal.
5
JO
What.The. Hell? I stumbled toward my little car, Sheila, in a daze, my arms holding the last of the cleaned service dishes. Him? He was the guy who took that girl, Pam, home from the horrible party in Silicon Valley two years ago.Andhe was at Hill & Ocean with some of his slick brogrammer buddies the night I stormed out two months ago.
Lucas Bakker was difficult to forget. Tall, dark, and sexy as hell. He was at least 6’2”, significantly taller than me, even in my chef’s clogs. He had gray-blue eyes and blinding dimples. His slim, muscular build said he worked out a lot, and a girl could appreciate how he still filled out his Levi’s.
But he was a fucking bro, and those dickheads went for underwear models, not curvy girls whose curly hair frizzed in the mist eight months out of the year. My body type wasn’t usually seen on a runway, much less in underwear. Shopping for pretty lingerie that fit had become an exercise in humiliation. I didn’t even try anymore.
Lucas lived here? Was he following me, or was I following him?
I pulled onto the main road, and my blood boiled as the memories flooded in.
The new chef extraordinaire on the Seattle culinary scene, Reef Hill, was talented but lacked focus when I took his job offer and left California for Seattle. I rounded out his Northwest menu with some of my family’s recipes and spice combinations from a long history of Southern comfort food. The fusion dishes were such a hit he convinced me to co-author a cookbook with him. A dream for any chef. I made a note to add cookbook author to those business cards I still needed to have printed.
The hype felt like passion, and we ended up in bed. Turns out, it was just hype. Grasping for more acclaim, Reef hired a French-trained, stick-thin beauty to bethe faceof the restaurant’s signature desserts. Which left me, the pastry chef, about nowhere.
I hated I’d shared my body with him, even in the dark. My existing curves still hinted at the excess weight I once carried. In culinary school, I took control of food instead of the other way around. Food wasmybitch now. But, in the accidental naked-in-the-mirror moments, the shadows of my past remained.
On my last night at Hill & Ocean, I recognized Lucas and another bro from that party in the Valley. Lucas was still hot as hell and memorable. The other dickwad, Cole, was memorable because I was pretty sure he was a sexual predator.
Lucas, Cole, and two others were having dinner a few nights afterthe facearrived. I couldn’t believe I was seeing both Lucas and that asshole again.
I was already on edge when their server told me they had questions about the dessert options. Felicia-the-face flitted about wearing heels. Heels, for fuck’s sake. She looked ridiculous. With the slim wool pants and tailored chef’s coat, she looked like someone playing a chef on TV.
“We’d likeherto tell us about the desserts,” Dickwad, a.k.a. Cole, said.
“I’m the pastry chef. I can help.” Before walking out, I straightened my jacket and retied my apron to hide the food stains. I tried to stay calm, keep my voice cool and professional. They all kept eying Felicia.
“Well, I’m not sure you have what I’m looking for,” he said as he raked his eyes over my tummy and hips.
“Come on, Cole. The almond cake is amazing. Order that, and let’s get back to brainstorming.” Lucas raised his glass to the cheers of the other two.
“Fine. We’ll take the almond cake. At least have her deliver it. Thanks.”
Was I being dismissed? Oh, hell no. He was a customer, yes, but it was my dining room. My smile was all contempt as I turned for the kitchen.
