Rules of the Chef by Nicole Dennis

Author:Nicole Dennis [Dennis, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2014-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Managing to wake when ordered from pounding on their shared wall, Samuel yanked on clothes and stumbled down the stairs. He found a cheery, bright-eyed Dakota waiting for him in the kitchen.

Another yawn stretched his jaw with a popping motion before Samuel got hold of it and shook his head. Following Dakota outside, he drank another gulp of the strong, sugary black coffee Dakota had shoved in his hands. Still coming around, he didn’t take much notice of the wild ride in the ancient Jeep. All he wanted was the blessed nirvana of caffeine to wake up his sluggish brain cells.

It’s too damn early to be moving. Let alone to make important deals.

After the crazy ride, they stood on the docks in an active, bustling fish market lit by multiple flood lights against the darkness. They were still three hours ahead of dawn. He learned that the various local fishermen all turned their overnight catches in here for the best price.

Shoving his shoulder against the nearest post, he pressed fingers against his eyelids to counteract the achy, scratchy exhaustion which tugged at him. Samuel tried to concentrate on Dakota talking to the fish monger.

Is that the right word for the fish-smelling guy who walks around with a clipboard and acts like he owns everything? Samuel didn’t know. At this point, he couldn’t care less.

He scratched at the scruffy growth on his chin, he hated how out of sorts he felt in these yanked-on wrinkled jeans and shirt, and soft canvas sneakers. His hair was finger combed. His teeth felt fuzzy.

“Yuck…” Samuel pushed off one post and headed to another one closer to Dakota. He met the dead stare of some kind of fish.

Dakota walked back with the fish monger. “You’re looking at dinner, Samuel. What do you think?”

“They’re staring at me. It’s creepy,” Samuel said.

Dakota and the man laughed. They were far too awake and alert for him.

Samuel grumbled into the coffee cup. “What is it?”

“How can it be creepy? The fish is dead.”

“Duh, I know that much. What kind of fish is it? Not awake and coherent here.”

“That pile is mahi-mahi from the deep water of the bay. The one next to it is yellow-fin tuna. And the third pile is grouper,” Dakota said.

“I read those on various menus I browsed, never saw them in the umm…scales.” Samuel gave the large mouth grouper another grim look. “They look a little ugly.”

“They’re a nice mild firm fish which takes on whatever flavors you add to it.”

“If you say so. The mahi-mahi is quite colorful, though.”

“Hmm. They are a striking fish,” Dakota said.

“They’re acrobatic and swift in the water, a hard fish to catch, but we have some of the best anglers,” the fish monger added.

“So, Frank,” Dakota said, “we’re good on the delivery of the mahi-mahi, tuna, grouper, small scallops, the royal red tail shrimps and the jumbo shrimp.”

“We’re good. Same price as always,” Frank said in a slow, Southern accent. He wrote something on the clipboard and held it out for Dakota to look over and sign off on the bottom.

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