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Carly’s exhale sank like an ill-timed soufflé. “Probably.”
Sloane set her mouth in a firm line, jamming her hands into her hips as she stood up. “Do you want me to take a message? You shouldn’t have to deal with his shit right now. Plus, I’d love to have a little chat with him. After all, I’m the only person he hasn’t tried to lure over to the dark side yet.”
The fact that Travis had tried unsuccessfully to schmooze both her family and her sous chef in the last few weeks caught in Carly’s mind, but she shook her head. “Definitely not. The last thing I need right now is to stir up a hornet’s nest with him.”
Carly’s skin prickled with dread as she tried to think. Having to deal with Travis right now would put her over the freaking edge, and considering she had a packed dinner service that would start in a mere two hours, she just couldn’t handle it. “Gavin, can you tell him I’m not available, please? He’s just going to have to wait until I can deal with him.”
Gavin nodded, one slight dip of his sculpted chin, hesitating for just a fraction before returning to the bar.
“I hate that you have to go through this,” Sloane said, her ice blue eyes resting on Carly’s.
“Me, too. Right now, I don’t feel like I’ll ever be free of Travis.” God, look at all the trouble she’d gotten herself into, following her heart like an idiot. She’d do well to remember it.
Except, of course, it was too late.
* * *
Dinner service wason the downswing before Carly actually got a chance to breathe, which was fine by her. The controlled chaos of her tightly run kitchen, complete with multi-lingual curse words slung back and forth between chefs, had forced her brain to function at a fundamental level. The steady pace of go, go, go smoothed the rough edges of her nerves so she could actually think. Not that she was any closer to figuring out how to handle the fact that she hadn’t just told Jackson she loved him in the heat of the moment.
She’d truly meant it.
“Hey, chef Carly. Can I get a tiramisu on the fly? The guy at table sixteen just decided he wants dessert after all.” The server asking the question gave her a sheepish look, but Carly was grateful to have one more task to keep her hands busier than her heart.
“Sure thing, Kelly.”
They were slowing down for the night, and rather than holler out the order, Carly flipped a dessert plate from the cold stack and propped open the dessert fridge with her hip. She plated a healthy wedge of tiramisu over strategically placed swirls of chocolate sauce. Carefully dunking a whisk in a chilled bowl of crème fraîche, Carly absently whipped it into soft, feathery peaks. The dollop she placed over the fine smattering of espresso powder curved up and over, reminding her of the graceful bend of a swan’s neck.
A swan’s neck…a swan…
The plate dipped in her hand, a bolt of shock arrowing through Carly with startling clarity as the tiramisu landed on the floor with a softplop.
She didn’t just love Jackson. He was her swan. And even if it meant putting her heart on the line, she had to get over her past in order to trust what they had and believe he’d love her back.
Carly plated a new wedge of tiramisu and quickly cleaned her mess, heading back to the pass with a surge of settling calm. The idea of risking everything for love—
again—should be scary, she knew, and yet the fear and unease Carly felt whenever she thought of how Travis had betrayed her was utterly absent in the face of how Jackson made her feel.
She loved him. Wasinlove with him. And she trusted him to guard her heart.
“I need a ribeye special medium rare and a swordfish braciole. We’re moving, people. I want these folks in the dining room fed and happy and telling their friends about it, let’s go!” Carly reclaimed the pass with a grin, snapping up a plate of shrimp scampi and inhaling the pungent, delectable combination of butter and garlic.
Adrian lifted a wry brow, but a return grin tickled the edges of his lips. “You’re awfully happy over there.” He passed her another plate of scampi, which she garnished and sent out alongside a plate of chicken marsala.
“We’re nearly done for the night, and the food looks perfect. What’s not to be happy about?”
Adrian chuckled, calling out in a booming voice, “Yo, Sunshine! Where’s that peasant soup headed for table twenty-three? Chef Carly set the bar atperfect, so I suggest you get it up to the pass that way.” Although he sent the holler over his shoulder to Bellamy’s station, Adrian leveled a knowing hazel stare at Carly, as palpable as if he’d reached out to touch her.
“You’ve been pretty quiet tonight, until now. Any particular reason for your change of heart?” His hands were a flurry of motion as he situated a perfectly trimmed ribeye on the grill in front of him, ducking down to the lowboy for the ingredients for the sautéed balsamic mushrooms that went with it. Despite his movements and unerring focus on what he was doing, Carly wasn’t fooled for a second about where his attention really lay.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind, that’s all. But I’m straight now. Or at least, I will be.” Carly paused as Bellamy hustled two bowls of satiny golden-orange soup, brimming with just the right amount of summer vegetables, to the pass.
“Two bowls of peasant soup, up.” Both smelled seasoned to perfection, and after a quick dip with a tasting spoon confirmed it, Carly shot Adrian a smile.
“Can’t find anything wrong with this one,” she said, nodding in Bellamy’s direction. The double doors leading to the dining room thunked with purpose as a server whisked the soup away, leaving Gavin room to slip into the front of the kitchen.
“Someone would like to speak to you in the dining room, Chef. I told him you may not be available since we still have guests, but he said he’d wait as long as necessary.”
Carly’s heart pinballed inside her ribcage. “Did he give you his name?”
