Painting Her: A Bad Boy Artist Romance by Natalie Knight

Painting Her: A Bad Boy Artist Romance by Natalie Knight

Author:Natalie Knight [Knight, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Triumvirate Press
Published: 2017-10-29T16:00:00+00:00


Palmer

I dip my finger into the sauce and press it against my tongue. It's bland and devoid of depth.

"Are you fucking serious? This tastes like cardboard," I say. "Fix it."

Everyone is on edge as I drag my finger against my chef's coat, wiping away the sauce. The rest of my staff scrambles.

We're all working harder than we've ever worked in our lives. I smile, seeing my junior chefs work overtime to make tonight a success, but my joy fades away as quickly as it comes when I peep through the window of the swinging kitchen door, and spy none other than Percy Whitman.

The man.

The myth.

The dream maker and the career wrecker of this city.

But that's all bullshit because he's just a grade-A asshole.

He walks through the elegant glass doors of my restaurant and I watch as the hostess seats him. She's friendly and gracious.

Shit. I can't remember a time when Percy showed up a restaurant on opening night.

He takes a few steps in and smiles, showing off a row of teeth more crooked than a broken fence. That matches his review ethic, I think to myself.

He removes his hat and tips it in an arrogant gesture. He combs his hand through his blonde hair and his eyes scan the crowded dining room.

The only thing paler than his face is the table cloth in front of him, I think.

Brit bumps into me. Her hair rivals the flames of any kitchen, and she has the personality to match. She trips and spills a bowl of tomato soup on the ground … and me.

"I'm so sorry," she says, bringing her hands to her mouth. She's frazzled.

I reach over and place a hand on her shoulder.

"Take a deep breath, Brit," I say. "It could've been worse."

She gives me a reluctant smile and scrambles off. I grab a towel, soaking up the red remnants of soup and then set it on the counter.

I look around the kitchen … at the steaks drizzled with the finest brown butter sauces, and realize that even though it hasn't been the smoothest of nights, it hasn't been bad either.

This is the dream. We're pulling off a lot of great plates.

I turn and head out of the kitchen. It's time I mingle with the patrons.

Immediately, a crowd of three women catch my eye. They're seated near the bar—three blondes in red. One of them turns to me and smiles.

I walk over and make an introduction.

"Evening, ladies," I say. "How are you enjoying the food?"

"Oh, you must be the chef!" one of the women smiles. "I adore your food!" She brings one hand to her chest, resting it on her cleavage.

I smile.

The two other women blush as I look into their striking blue eyes. If I had more time, I'd probably sit a minute and share a drink with them, but it's opening night and time is precious.

"Well," I grin, "Just wait until you ladies try the desert."

With that, I leave them with a smile and watch as their faces turn a shade of red that matches their dresses.



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