Dirty Chef by Dee Cara

Author:Dee, Cara [Dee, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2020-04-01T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

My last errand of the day was to have lunch with my dad’s older sister, with whom I’d lived as a teenager. She came up from Seattle every now and then to get away from the city noise, and she had a cabin up in Westslope, a northern district of Camassia, that she shared with three women from her bridge club.

She knew entirely too much about me, and she’d sniffed out the truth before our food had arrived.

Now I was on my way back to the restaurant with her “words of wisdom” going on a loop in my head.

“What’s that thing your mother always says? Chi non risca, something. You’ve been in love with Adam since you were a child, dear. I understand it’s a big risk, considering his history, but it’s time to take the leap. You are everything to him.”

Chi non risica, non risica.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Let’s go venture everything, then.

I wasn’t surprised to see Adam had left the restaurant. Griffin and the staff were preparing for tonight’s service, and I figured Adam was upstairs getting ready in our own little kitchen.

“Hey, hon.” Griffin flashed me a quick grin, busy with prep. “You on tonight?”

I shook my head and adjusted my grip on the pastry boxes so they rested on my hip. “Just saying hi. Adam and I are experimenting with the Valentine’s menu.”

“Cool. I saw the post on Insta, and he’s been using the smoker in the back.” He gave me his cheek, and I dutifully hopped up and kissed it. “That’s better. Not to be a dick, but get outta my kitchen.” He winked.

I laughed and stole a carrot stick. “Be nice to Tracy, okay?”

He frowned. “He’s a punk.”

I lifted a brow. “He’s a sweetheart. If you think he’s a punk, it’s probably because you’ve been a moody prick.”

That was the moment Tracy came out of the kitchen. “Who’s a moody prick? Griffin?”

Crap. I said nothing. I chewed on my carrot instead.

Tracy’s mouth twitched. “Silence speaks.”

“How about you respect the chef?” Griffin shot back.

Oh boy. One jaded, rough-around-the-edges, grumpy man stared down a cocky, defensive sweetheart with a crush.

A beat later, Tracy turned to me. “I miss Adam already.”

I squeezed his hand. He had all my sympathy. “Okay, well…don’t burn down the restaurant. And Griffin, I have your mother’s number,” I said. “Don’t make me use it.”

I left before things could escalate further, and I took the elevator to the third floor.

Nerves fluttered inside me as I opened the door and was met by music and the smell of Adam’s cooking.

“Shit.” I almost dropped the boxes in an attempt to remove my beanie. That would have to wait. Instead, I kicked off my boots and trailed into the kitchen. Adam sent me an indecent little smirk. Then again, everything about him was indecent.

“Hi, Chef.” I set down the boxes on the kitchen island.

“Hey, you.” He was baking something. He didn’t bake many different things, so I assumed it was buns for the burgers.

“It smells amazing.

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