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I’ve got two problems that money can’t solve. I’ve fallen in love at first sight with an engaged woman, and that woman happens to work for me.
Approaching the swinging kitchen door a fourth time, I pause again. Has my moral compass gone out the window?
I can’t help myself.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since yesterday. All I wanted was a snack, and instead, I got struck by lightning in the form of a sweet, funny, brilliant little pastry chef with a pair of eyes I wanted to linger on all day long.
The aroma emanating from the kitchen of cinnamon, butter, orange and baking bread has me salivating, and I just know Cherise is baking something great for breakfast.
I sigh and rest my hand on the door. I just want to see what she’s up to. And maybe taste another sample and see another smile. That’s all I’ll ever get from her because she’s not mine. Which really, really sucks for me because she’s done something to me. Flipped a switch in my brain, in my heart, in my body.
Finally, I mentally prepare myself to push through the door and am nearly bowled by a server rushing through in the opposite direction, carrying a platter full of breakfast pastries to the buffet, where our executive chef is creating custom-ordered omelets for our guest.
I sneak into the kitchen before the door closes and try to blend into the background. This gives me a chance to watch Cherise. She and the other staff, hurriedly preparing breakfast orders, are slinging some of the filthiest kitchen chatter I’ve ever heard. The atmosphere brings me back to when I was a kid, working as a part-time dishwasher at a Vegas hotel buffet. That was an education in swear words. And yet, there’s a sweetness underneath it all when it comes to Cherise.
She’s the kind of person people want to orbit. Of course, Armand hired her. She’s the perfect ambassador for Orchid, and she’s massively talented. That was the best piece of chocolate I’ve ever put in my mouth. Maybe the best anything.
And just when I thought she couldn’t be any more adorable, she tried to shy away from my offer of help in her sticky situation. My own brother has demonstrated time and time again that a bit of generosity is never enough for him, and yet she, a stranger, doesn’t want to accept it.
What she doesn’t know is that my motivations are not totally selfless. I may not be able to get in the way of her wedding, but I can make sure the damn lucky gentleman is worthy of her.
A phone rings and Cherise answers remotely via Bluetooth earbuds she wears. At the same time, she ices the most beautiful batch of fluffy cinnamon buns I’ve ever seen.
“Hi, I’m in the middle of something; what’s up? Yes, Orchid ballroom. Here, in Vegas, of course. No, it’s off the Strip. It’s not a full-blown casino but does have a few slot machines in the bar…well, tell your mom that’s just the way it is here. I have no control over it…look at it this way, it’s a free venue, and I can use the money we’re saving to help fly people out here…I live here, for now, so obviously, I can help find rooms for everyone, that’s a given… Don’t forget, I have to fly my entire family out here cross country, too. And my side of the family is bigger, and my guest list is longer… Come on, you know I’m not trying to rub that in your face, it’s just math…no, I don’t think my job is more important than yours. Still, I don’t see anyone in the fast-food architecture industry offering us a free venue and catering, so…honestly, it’s going to be much easier to plan here, in the city where I live… it’s Vegas; I can make a wedding happen tomorrow if I really wanted to…
.”
I gather Cherise is arguing on the phone with her fiancé. Or rather, her fiancé is picking arguments with her, and it seems like he’s unreasonable. I’m having trouble choosing an emotion as I watch her face transform from peppy and excited to chagrined, to exasperated, to belittled. Whoever is talking to her has just convinced me of one thing. I do not want this woman to be beholden to that person in any way.
Two other words she’s said slap me in the face. “For now”? What the hell does that mean? Is she leaving Orchid?
Surely she’s not leaving here to spend more time with that dolt who was on the phone.
Checking my watch, I see I have a few extra minutes before meeting with the contractors. That one simple movement grabs someone’s attention, and I hear, “Mr. Frye? Can I help you?”
The voice lands square in the middle of my chest and squeezes my heart.
Today she’s wearing a blue uniform, and her skin glows in it. My god, her smile. How does she do that after hanging up from such a shitty phone call? How does she make it reach her eyes like that?
It’s because she’s smiling for real, dummy. Despite the bad things in life, she’s happy to see her boss, who just gave her a bonus. Whatever the reason, the smile makes me feel warm inside. It’s been so long since someone’s smile made me feel…anything.
My throat dries up as I try to get out the words, “Good…good morning, Ms. Williams.”
She approaches with a platter of the most delectable, aromatic, fluffy breakfast pastries I’ve ever seen. “Cinnamon bun?”
My mouth waters. “I thought that’s what I smelled. Just a taste, if you have any to spare.”
She laughs. “Please. How can I say no to the boss?”
I watch as she rushes around to fetch a plate, coffee, napkin spoon, and creamer. I feel bad for making her fuss over me. This is precisely what I didn’t want to happen, to distract her from her job. I just wanted to see her.
Damn, my stupid, obsessive heart makes me lack the ability to think things through.
I look at the cup and notice something. “Ms. Williams, how did you know how I take my coffee?”
She blinks at me with feigned innocence. “I stalked you, Mr. Frye.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, her smirking and me sweating through my hand-stitched French dress shirt. I know she’s joking. If only she knew how the opposite of that is happening with me. I’ve scraped the entire internet for all there is to know about pastry chef Cherise Williams. Winner of numerous prestigious food awards regionally, she was the youngest nominee ever for Foodie Magazine’s “Chefs under 30 to Watch.” She could have had her pick of places to do her craft after that, but Armand snapped her up. This is why I trust that man with my life.
