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“I wish I could cook,” I grumble.
He chuckles again. “It’s not that hard. People overthink it. I’ve worked in five-star hotels with fifteen chefs under my belt, and I can tell you, I’d much prefer to cook for one or two people and make the food to their liking.”
“Like Mr. D?”
He smiles. “Yes, like Mr. D.”
I pour my tea, and take the milk out of the fridge. “You don’t find him a little surly?”
“Absolutely. But that’s all part of the fun.”
I giggle. “I don’t see how dealing with him could be fun, but I’ll take your word on it.”
He starts cracking eggs, cutting up all kinds of vegetables as he throws it all into a large mixing bowl. There’s not a mark or splash on his apron — I’m secretly impressed.
“Trust me, I’ve had worse clients. Mr. Devereaux is a pussy cat compared to some.”
“Who was your worst client ever?” I settle in for the gossip as I watch Dom work.
“Unfortunately, I signed a lot of NDAs in my time,” he sighs. “But one I didn’t get to sign — because the douchebag never paid up — was Jacob Steel.”
My eyes go wide. “No way?” Jacob Steel is a famous actor in the UK and rumour has it he might even be the new Superman. Personally, I don’t think he’s a patch on Henry Cavill, but that’s just me.
“Complete waste of space. A real diva, and I’ve met some divas in my time. I mean, how much could you know at twenty-one years old?”
I laugh. “It’s always the pretty boys who cause the biggest headaches.”
“Touché.”
He flips over my omelette onto a plate in no time, and when I’m tucking in, I’m certain it’s the best omelette I’ve ever had.
“Mr. Devereaux only likes the freshest, organic ingredients,” he says. “Thanks to him I now have an allotment where I grow my own vegetables.”
“That’s amazing. I’d love to grow my own stuff. Unfortunately, I can’t even keep a houseplant alive.”
He chuckles, continuing to chop onions faster than a runaway freight train. I wish I had a skill like that; where I could use my hands. I can’t type very well, and I definitely can’t paint. I don’t think polishing glasses and pouring pints is a skill exactly, but I now have to construct an email to my boss to let him know the sad news.
When my phone pings as I’m eating, I smile when I see it’s Neve. I texted her yesterday. She was going to the country for the weekend with the guy from the party. For some reason, I get the impression that she likes him a lot more than a friend.
I haven’t told her any details about Alistair. Just that it went well and he wants to see me again.
Neve
Just checking in to see how my favourite bar tender is doing?
I can’t tell her I went to his place. Technically, I’m still an employee of Élégance and that’s against the rules. I guess I’ll have to let Daphne know that it just didn’t work out.
Me
I’m fine. How was your weekend?
Neve
Never better. We went horse riding.
Me
Swoon. That guy’s really into you
