The Canadian Sweet-Tart by Morhaime M Leigh

Author:Morhaime, M Leigh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-19T00:00:00+00:00

Somehow, I managed to get a few hours of sleep that night. I still woke up far earlier than I needed to and made my way back to a very quiet restaurant. I took advantage of my time alone, setting everything up and letting my music flood through the Bluetooth speakers as I danced through the kitchen in just my black pants and black tank top.

During one of my spins while holding a carrot up like a microphone, I came to a rather abrupt halt and turned redder than the tomatoes. Leaning against the salad station was Cain, arms folded and grinning ear to ear.

“No, please, continue. I was enjoying the performance.”

My eyes were so wide, they were burning. “Um.” I began before dropping the carrot to the counter. “I’m going to…” I pointed to the office and ran off without another word.

I grabbed my chef coat and threw it on as fast as I could. When I turned around, Cain was leaning against the doorway.

“You know you don’t have to scurry off or put on your chef coat just because I showed up.”

“I know.” I snapped and instantly regretted my tone. “It’s not exactly professional of me.”

“Beck, it’s just you and me here. No one else is going to be here for at least another hour.”

I felt my face go rigid. Any time he called me by my name, I had to go cold. I had to make myself angry. Otherwise, I’d enjoy it a bit too much—correction, way too much.

“Sorry, Chef. My bad.” Cain held up his hands, giving up any fight he’d had. “I’ll get started on the prep list.” He turned on his heel and disappeared before I could say another word.

But there wasn’t anything I could say. Not without making everything worse.

So, I just focused on our re-opening. I put every ounce of energy into making sure it went off without a hitch.

And by some miracle, it did.

Gary thrived on the fry station. We’d managed to find someone who was almost as good as he was in the dish pit. Henry even pulled out his best performance. Part of me knew he was showing off. He was one of the few line cooks that we’d kept. He’d been one that seemed to go with the flow—whether that was being an asshole to me or actually doing his job. Cain and I had both agreed that he was worth giving one last chance to. Luckily, he proved us right so far.

The rest of the new staff made me proud. The mistakes were so minimal that I couldn’t even be bothered to be angry. I kept my excitement reserved, though. I didn’t want to jinx us.

By the time dinner service ended, I was dead exhausted again but wanted to run numbers to see how we really did, so I disappeared to the office while the crew cleaned.

I’d lost track of time completely and didn’t realize that nearly everyone had left until Anthony came in to say goodnight.

“Great night, Beck.

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