Читать книгу A Dash of Love - Liz Isaacson - Страница 8

Chapter Four

Paul asked his sous chefs to get the kitchen cleaned and everything put away for the night. His frustration had only grown as the hours had passed, and he needed a break from this business. He’d known how rough it could be going in—he’d worked at the bakery with his father long enough to experience that. The day started early at the bakery, but it ended well past midnight for Paul.

It seemed that he and his father were always on opposite ends of the spectrum.

He changed out of his chef’s jacket and pulled a long-sleeved shirt over his head. He didn’t want to eat at Holly’s, but a drink sounded great. After a day like today, he deserved it.

He walked through the restaurant and the few lingering customers to the bar, where a seat remained at the end beside a pretty auburn-haired woman wearing a frilly pink top.

Jerrod caught sight of him and waved. Paul liked the bartender, and they’d started spending some time together outside of work. Paul didn’t usually do that because he didn’t have time. And he didn’t want to be buddy-buddy with his sous chef or his pastry chef. It was very lonely as the executive chef, but Paul had never really minded until a few months ago.

So when Jerrod had run into Paul at the rec center, they’d played basketball together. They’d started doing that more and more, and Paul could really use a friendly face tonight.

“Hey,” Paul said as he eased his tired body onto the barstool.

“What’s it tonight?”

Paul smiled, though nothing about tonight warranted such an action. “Oh, something that pairs with frustration.”

Jerrod gave him a knowing smile. “Got it.”

The woman next to him smelled like strawberries, roses, and other red things. He tried not to look at her too quickly, but he turned that way anyway. He noticed her wide, innocent eyes in a peculiar shade of brown. They pulled at him and wouldn’t let go.

Her hair shone with some dark notes, too, and he wondered what color it would be in natural light. She was dressed well, wore makeup, and that scent…

He smiled at her, his eyes falling to the bar—where a bowl of cassoulet sat. His heart pumped out an extra beat, and he was suddenly anxious to know what she thought of it. “See you have the special. How was it?”

The woman, who had been nodding and smiling, faced the bar again, her grin fading. “Uh…it was, uh. It was okay.” She turned toward him, her loose curls falling over her shoulder. The grin appeared, and it lit something in him that had been dormant for a while. “I just wasn’t that hungry.”

She was also not that great at lying. “But you got to try it, at least, right?” He gestured toward it as if she hadn’t noticed the bowl in front of her. He watched her face for a reaction.

“Mm-hm, yeah. I did.”

And the bowl was still full. He couldn’t help himself. Maybe if he had some real customer feedback, Holly would listen. Or maybe he just liked the way this woman’s voice sounded and he wanted to keep talking to her. No matter what, he asked, “Did you like it?”

“Oh, um.” Her voice was barely audible above the elevator music wafting down from the speakers in the ceiling. She actually looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was lingering nearby. “Yeah, I’d pass, maybe. Try something else, perhaps.” She giggled and nodded like they’d just shared a secret with each other.

He’d been watching her, but now he dropped his gaze to the bar. A quick half-laugh left his lips. “What was it about it that you didn’t like?”

She stared at the bowl of offending cassoulet. “It was just a little bland. I think it needed something. I don’t know.”

Though he had used the exact same word—bland—to describe the cassoulet, his pride was taking a serious hit here.

He picked up his glass and swirled his wine. “Good to know.” He took a sip, wishing his emotions weren’t quite so at war with each other. Would he have liked her more if she’d enjoyed a cassoulet he knew was inferior? He should be grateful she seemed to possess a discerning palette. It wasn’t like she’d tasted and then critiqued his recipe.

She turned back to him, leaned in, and whispered, “You know, frankly, I’m a little surprised.”

Paul was, too. Holly had been slipping for months, and he didn’t know why. He set his wine glass on the counter and worked hard to school his features before he looked at her. “It was that bad?”

“No, it’s just…” Her denial came quickly, and she considered the bowl of food again. She scrunched up her lips in a cute way that Paul wished he didn’t find quite so attractive. “It could’ve used something to…pizzazz it up, you know? It just wasn’t—it didn’t really have that ‘wow factor’ that I was expecting.”

Paul nodded though he wasn’t sure what she meant. “The ‘wow factor.’” He couldn’t help the twinge of annoyance in his chest, though her assessment of the cassoulet was spot-on.

The woman nodded, a little too emphatically, in his opinion. “You know, Holly probably just needs a new executive chef or something. That’s what I’m thinking.” She gave him a wide-eyed look like her word would become law.

Paul gave a single nod in slow motion. A smile came to his lips, but it wasn’t exactly happy—more like he was trying to figure out what she’d just said and why it felt like she’d stabbed him in the heart with a fork. All four tines of a fork.

“Sounds like you eat out a lot,” he said, his voice miraculously even.

She obviously mistook his smile for friendliness. “No, no. I—I, uh, just know a lot about food.” She didn’t seem bothered by what she’d said, and of course, she had no idea who she’d said it to. She grinned at him, and his frustration edged up a notch because he actually found her honesty and innocence so attractive.

“Of course you do. Because…you eat food.” The smile on his face felt manic, stretched too far. “Everyone’s a food critic these days.” He laughed a couple of times and wanted to drown this day in his glass of red wine.

“Oh no. I’m not a food critic. Actually, a lot of people think that I am. I was at the grocery store last week...” She trailed off, for which Paul was grateful.

He struggled to hide his exhaustion and his irritation with Holly, and he couldn’t camouflage his feelings for much longer. When she asked, “I’m sorry, did I say something to upset you?” he knew he hadn’t hidden them well at all.

He exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders. What would telling her who he was accomplish? Nothing. She didn’t seem like Holly, and maybe she would listen to him, but after the day he’d already had, he decided revealing who he was—the very executive chef she’d just suggested firing—wasn’t worth the conversation.

So she was pretty. She had a good air about her. She knew food. But she also thought he should be replaced, and though he’d never feared for his job here, he suddenly did.

“No,” he finally said in response to her question. “No, I just, uh, I just got some bad news tonight.” He couldn’t find a reason to make her feel embarrassed that she’d insulted him.

“Oh, sorry.” She seemed genuine, too, even if she turned back to her pathetic bowl of cassoulet a moment later. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m sure your news isn’t as bad as the feedback they’re getting on this cassoulet.” She gave him a flirtatious smile, and Paul had no other choice but to laugh.

She giggled with him, longer and with more volume. He needed to get out of there. Even though he agreed with her and wanted to change the recipe, his defenses still battled with what she’d said. After all, she’d just bashed his cooking.

Not my recipe, though.

He eased away from the bar while her laughter still rang in his ears. “Have a good night.” He made it to the exit before he turned back to look at her. She slouched against the barstool, clearly a bit flummoxed as to what had just happened.

Paul wasn’t, though. Her opinion of the cassoulet was his, too. And he needed to do something about it.

Nikki wished Angela had told her to come at eleven o’clock instead of ten. Customers lingered, and while she usually left when a restaurant closed, the possibility of meeting Holly still dangled on the horizon, an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.

Angela disappeared into the kitchen and didn’t return. Nikki wasn’t sure how long she was supposed to wait, and she waved off more wine from Jerrod. Her gaze landed on the vacant seat next to her where that man had sat.

She’d definitely said something to upset him, and regret stole through her. What if what she’d said about the cassoulet got back to Angela, or worse, Holly Hanson herself?

Nikki shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Her and her babbling mouth. For once, she’d like her flapping lips to get her something good instead of landing her in trouble.

She thought about the man and his perfectly symmetrical face, his bright blue eyes, and his close-cut hair. He was handsome and tall, and Nikki regretted complaining about the food all over again. Just her luck that he’d probably enjoyed the cassoulet…if that was even possible.

She glanced up, realizing that Jerrod had taken her glass and left the bar. In fact, she was the only one remaining in the restaurant. I should go, she thought, her stomach quivering the tiniest bit. Not gonna meet Holly tonight.

She’d twisted to reach for her coat when she heard someone say, “We can just talk in here.”

Nikki turned, everything inside her freezing when she saw the tall, beautiful, and glamorous Holly Hanson walking along the opposite wall and entering the dining room. A wall hid Nikki, still sitting at the bar, but the dining room wasn’t soundproof.

A man came with Holly, well dressed with dark hair and a somewhat disgusted look on his face. “If you’re afraid that I’m gonna see what your office looks like, it’s a little late, Holly. I’ve already seen it.” He definitely didn’t sound happy, and Nikki wished she could make herself invisible and get out of the restaurant.

“Oh, I just have to catch up on some of that paperwork.” Holly tacked on a laugh that sounded a bit on the nervous side.

“There’s a pile of paperwork in your office that looks like Mount Everest. What happened to your assistant?” The voices came from directly behind Nikki, so she couldn’t see them, but the annoyance in the man’s voice wasn’t hard to hear, even around the divider.

“She quit.”

He sighed heavily. “So did the last three. Holly, listen, you need to hire someone to organize all of this. Now, I’ve been asking for the financials for months, and as your investor, I’m entitled to see them on a regular basis.”

“I just don’t think you understand. I’m not just running this restaurant. I am overseeing my entire brand.” Holly sounded on the prouder side of herself, and Nikki wondered if Angela could be right about her. Still, it seemed like she was being reprimanded, and Nikki didn’t want to hear all of this. But how could she get up now?

“Exactly. And that’s the problem. You need to focus and pay attention to the restaurant.”

“I completely revamped the menu six months ago—at your request.”

“No, what you did was, you pulled out some of your older signature dishes instead of creating new ones. And I have to be honest with you, I don’t think this place is going to survive with just the status quo.”

Holly Hanson’s was going to go out of business? How was that even possible? Nikki really wanted to go see if this guy was like that uppity manager at Finique—though he seemed to have plenty to say as he continued with, “Look, please just get me the paperwork soon so I can dig through all this and see how bad things really are. I’ll see myself out.”

Footsteps sounded as he made his way to the front door. Nikki caught a glimpse of his back as he turned the handle. The distinct sound of heel steps on tile came toward her.

She froze. Dread and horror choked her, and that invisibility would’ve been great about now.

“Oh, uh.” An anxiety-ridden giggle escaped her throat.

Holly glanced up and stopped as Nikki turned and came face-to-face with her idol chef.

“Hi. I’m so sorry.” She held up one hand in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to be a fly on the wall.” She gestured toward the dividing wall between her and the room where Holly had just been chewed out. And why couldn’t she stop smiling?

Holly stared at her, her gaze sharp. Nikki wondered how she’d achieved so many genius recipes so quickly. Trying to focus, she said, “But I—I guess you two didn’t see me sitting here when you came in, so I just—I didn’t know what to do exactly. So…”

Holly squinted at her. “A cough would have been the polite thing to do.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Nikki agreed instantly, an idea occurring to her. All she needed was a few more seconds of bravery—and maybe some of her ability to babble.

“Listen, I—I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and the fact that you need a new assistant.” She stood and faced Holly fully, her hope rising like a helium balloon.

Holly shook her head as if annoyed and blinked a couple of times. “I’m sorry. You are?”

Nikki lunged one step forward and then reminded herself to not appear so enthusiastic. Still, when she said, “Nikki,” and grabbed onto Holly’s hand to shake it, she was definitely the most eager beaver in town. Even when Holly pulled her hand back and grimaced, Nikki continued. “Um, I’m Angela’s friend.”

When Holly stared at her, Nikki clarified. “Um, Angela, your server?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, the new girl.”

Nikki wondered how Holly didn’t know all of her employees, new or not. “Mm-hm. Anyhow, I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I just happen to be looking for a job.” When Holly didn’t roll her eyes or walk away, Nikki’s confidence grew.

Keep babbling, baby.

“And I’m very experienced in the restaurant industry, and it would be a privilege to work for you. That is, if you’re hiring, of course.”

Holly seemed to be wearing a mask, and it wasn’t a smiling one. “Do you know who I am?”

“Oh! Yes, of course, I do! Actually, it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I think I own every single cookbook that you’ve ever published.”

Holly’s eyebrows went up. Finally! A reaction.

“Which is why it would mean so much to me to work for you.” Nikki closed her mouth, hoping her babbling about the cookbooks and the privilege-to-work-for-you tactic had worked.

“What did you say your name is, sweetheart?”

“Nikki. Nikki Turner.” She wondered how long it would take for Holly to remember her name.

“And you’ve done office work?”

Nikki’s smile faded, and her eyes darted away. “Office work?” Her head started bobbing of its own free will. “Yeah, uh, yeah of course. Did I mention I’m available to start right away?” She inhaled, smiled, and nodded again.

You’re not a bobble-head. Stop nodding!

Holly raised one eyebrow and circled Nikki, sizing her up. She paused at Nikki’s side. “Criminal record?”

“No.” Holly took another step, and Nikki twisted with her. “Although, I did get a parking ticket once.”

Holly spun back to her, a sharp look on her face.

“But I—I paid it immediately. Mm-hm.” Nikki nodded, silently begging a paid parking ticket to be satisfactory to Holly.

She pointed at Nikki before moving around the bar to get a drink. “And Angela will vouch for you? Right?”

“Yes! Definitely! Mm-hm. Hundred percent.”

Holly lifted a tumbler and a container of Scotch. “Well, I am desperate…”

Nikki’s insides did a little dance. “Uh, does that mean that I’m hired?”

Putting the bottle down, Holly met Nikki’s eyes, her unmoving mask back in place. “Meet me tomorrow at noon.”

Nikki nodded, her breath coming so shallowly she couldn’t quite form a single word.

“And that conversation you just eavesdropped on…”

Nikki shook her head. “Doesn’t leave the room. Ever.” She smiled, but Holly simply lifted her drink to her lips, as if everything she said to everyone was always obeyed.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna, uh—the exit’s this way. You look beautiful, by the way.” Nikki hurried toward the door, hoping with every step that Holly wouldn’t call her back and say she’d changed her mind. Once on the street, she released the air that had been accumulating in her lungs.

She didn’t dare even look through the window to see if Holly still stood at the bar, watching.

Half a block down the street, Nikki allowed a small squeal to rise through her throat. “I got a job!” she exclaimed to the red light. It didn’t answer back. But she didn’t care.

She’d just gotten a job at Holly Hanson’s, and she knew this was going to be the start of something great.