AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You probably got them within five minutes of them coming out of the oven,” I said. “We’re down an oven right now, so we cook them nonstop during breakfast.”
Keller was in his midforties, and he still had a full head of dark hair. He was known for being particular but also very generous.
“Hey, when are you coming to work for me?” he asked for at least the tenth time. “I’m not sure if you heard, but I pay well.”
He wanted to hire me as his private chef, which sounded incredibly boring to me. The kitchen here was sometimes stressful but never boring. I didn’t want to cook for just Keller and his cronies, no matter how much he paid me.
“You can eat my cooking here anytime,” I said, smiling.
“I’d rather eat it in my dining room. Did you know I just bought a place in the Maldives? My chef travels with me.”
Visiting the Maldives was a dream of mine, but not as anyone’s personal chef. Fortunately, Grady must have sensed my discomfort because he jumped in to save me.
“We’re talking about the new youth hockey complex. Holt got into town yesterday and we’re catching up with him at lunch today.”
My stomach somersaulted at the mention of Holt Sellers. I’d heard he was staying here while his new home was being built, but I’d forced myself not to check on the dates he’d booked.
I was a thirty-one-year-old woman—too old for a crush. Hopefully, Holt had lost most of his teeth playing pro hockey, and I was also pulling for a receding hairline. The less attractive he was these days, the better.
“Avon,” I said, walking over to my future sister-in-law. “We need to get together soon for some wedding menu planning.”
“I trust you,” she said with a smile. “But I’ll never say no to sampling your cooking.”
My brother had found his perfect match in Avon. She was smart, beautiful and, most importantly—strong enough to stand up to Grady when he was being difficult.
“I have an idea for a chocolate cake with raspberry filling,” I said. “But I want each of the three tiers of the wedding cake to be a different flavor.”
“I love that.”
Grady gave me an offended scowl. “Doesn’t it matter what kind of cake I want?”
“Not really. Happy wife, happy life.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Just don’t forget I hate coconut cake.”
As though I could forget. Grady was very vocal about his likes and dislikes, which was another reason Avon’s go-with-the-flow personality complemented his so well.
“And pound cake,” he added. “Pound cake is gross.”
“We’ll save the pounding for the wedding night,” I said lightly. “I need to get back to the kitchen, guys.”
I waved as I left and headed back in the direction of the kitchen. While walking, I saw a little boy sitting alone at a table, his brow furrowed as he stared at his untouched scrambled eggs, bacon and toast.
“Hey, everything okay?” I asked, stopping at his table.
He looked up at me through wire-rimmed glasses. “Does this have shellfish in it?”
Poor kid. He was probably hungry but worried about eating something he was allergic to.
“There are no shellfish in it,” I assured him. “I’m the chef here, and we have a special area in the kitchen for shellfish. None of this food was anywhere near there.”
“Okay, thank you,” he said.
He was wiry, his sandy brown hair cut short and his expression serious. Though he was sitting at a table with four chairs, there was nothing on the table but his plate.
“Are you here alone?” I asked him.
“No, my dad’s coming. He was here, but he went back to our room to poop because he doesn’t like pooping in public bathrooms.”
