Dirty Chef Read online

  I giggled.

  Jack smiled ruefully and walked over to us. With the couch at the center of the room, he came to a stop behind us and bent down to kiss the top of Isla’s head. “I’ll suffer in silence, I suppose. As long as you’re comfortable.”

  “Excellent answer,” Isla whispered with a cheeky smile.

  They were so adorable together. Isla was significantly younger than Jack, and when I met her the first time, they’d only just started dating. But even then, I could see the impact she had on him. She’d brought him back to life. Jack was no longer the frowning, broody Grady brother.

  “I thought I’d get us some lunch,” Jack said. “What are you two in the mood for?”

  Isla sighed heavily. She was all belly at this point. It’d been a week since the false alarm, and we were all waiting. “What I want is irrelevant, because some dipshit decided sushi isn’t good when you’re pregnant.”

  I offered a look of sympathy, then glanced up at Jack. “I had lunch before I came here, so don’t worry about me.”

  “Got it.” He nodded and slid his gaze back to Isla. “What about the chicken you loved last week? Are we still on that kick?”

  Isla made a face of disgust.

  Jack stifled his amusement—somewhat. “I’ll take that as a no.” He paused. “The pork sandwich from this weekend?”

  Less disgust now. Isla weighed her answer. “Hmm. I guess. No onion.”

  “Wouldn’t dare. I’ll go order.”

  After he’d disappeared into the kitchen, I returned my attention to my pregnant friend. “Anything I can do? Just name it, from foot rubs to more cookies.”

  “I’m okay, but thank you.” She shifted in her seat and winced as she tried to get comfortable. “You should’ve seen how I freaked Jack out last night. He gave me the best back rub ever, so naturally I started weeping uncontrollably.”

  I laughed softly.

  “I read an article the other day,” I admitted a beat later. “This woman was at the end of her pregnancy, and she said the only thing that made her slightly comfortable was orgasms in a hot bath.”

  “Way ahead of you,” she chuckled. “That would be Jack’s favorite way to help me.” Shocker! “But, huh, I should try a back rub in the hot tub. Man, just the thought of that. Definitely trying it out tonight.” She paused. “Enough about me, though. How’re things going with Adam?”

  Not this again. “They’re not, and they never will,” I replied patiently.

  “But, gah!” She threw up her hands in frustration. “Look, Jack thinks we should mind our own business and let you figu—”

  “He’s smart,” I pointed out with a smirk.

  She gave me a look. “You don’t know how stubborn I can be.”

  Oh, sweet woman. “Jack?” I called, never looking away from Isla. “Who’s the most stubborn person you know?”

  “Is my honesty gonna get me into trouble?” he hollered from the kitchen. “Never mind—it’s you, dear.”

  I made a there-you-go gesture with my hand.

  Isla narrowed her eyes. “Even more stubborn than me, Jack?”

  Jack reemerged from the kitchen with a sigh. “Sweetheart, when Alessia was sixteen, she managed to convince her overprotective parents to let her move halfway across the world to live with her aunt here in Washington because Alessia ‘had a feeling’ she’d like it.” He paused. “When she was eighteen, she talked her teachers into raising two grades to As. At twenty-one—when Adam was in the middle of starting his business—she took on the actual government because Adam’s request for a liquor license was initially denied. She doesn’t fight often, but when she puts her mind to something, she doesn’t quit.”

  “I get it, I get it,” Isla said irritably. “This is her and Adam we’re talking about—”

  “And those two stubborn fools can sort out their own mess,” Jack told her.

  “Hey.” I got a little defensive. And offended. “There’s no mess here. Can we stop talking about this? It’s private.”

  I didn’t want Jack—someone I considered an older brother—to even know I had feelings for his twin. It was weird. In retrospect, I could see how Isla had figured it out. I became awkward when Adam was particularly affectionate with me, and she’d seen it at the restaurant. But men were supposed to remain oblivious.

  “Private is excellent,” Jack agreed. “Isla, baby, looks can’t kill.”

  Isla was sporting an impressive glare. “Make. Me. Happy.”

  I stifled a surprised laugh.

  Poor Jack. He rubbed his forehead, visibly tired, but he wouldn’t deny his fiancée when she was about to give birth to their two children.

  He faced me and sighed. “I’ll tell you only one thing. Adam puts on a show when it comes to his…dating game, if you will. He stopped being a womanizer around the same time you two partnered up to run Coho.”

  Wait, what? That was ridiculous. Adam had asked me to be his official partner shortly after I’d gotten him the liquor license ten years ago. He’d dated plenty since then, and I told Jack as much.

  “This is why I don’t want to get involved.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is that he’s put on a show. You’ve obviously seen what you’ve seen—the few times he’s introduced someone. But perhaps you should question the times he’s just talked. And that’s it for me. I’m done here now.”

  He stalked up the stairs, muttering that lunch would be here in half an hour and that women were…something. I didn’t catch that last part. Instead, I slid my frown over to Isla and had no idea what to say.

  “Adam tells me everything,” I stated. “I’m his best friend.”

  Isla shrugged and smiled. Her mood had improved greatly. “Maybe he has some silly reason.”

  I shook my head. None of this made sense to me. If they were trying to indicate that Adam felt more for me, I had news for them. They could not be more wrong. I seriously wasn’t his type.

  He and I had made a quick agreement to never bring dates to the place we shared, or the apartment we’d rented together before, but we’d both spent nights elsewhere on occasion. Granted, it’d been a while. At the very least, four months for me, and Adam…I wasn’t sure. Our lives were hectic. We worked pretty much every day.

  “You know how easy men are, hon,” Isla told me. “If the attraction is there, it doesn’t take much for them to lose it. Hell, I seduced Jack with pajama shorts and some cleavage.”

  I kept shaking my head, feeling utterly mindfucked. I didn’t believe her. Or Jack. Not that they’d said anything outright, but the hints were plenty. Plenty bullshit.

  “Listen, you two live together,” Isla said. “Which—how long have you done that, by the way?”

  I squinted as I did the math. “We had to take out a loan to renovate the kitchen at the restaurant like, four years ago. So to cut expenses, we sort of suggested at the same time that we could share my apartment. He’d had a tiny studio, and I refused to spend more than an hour there.”

  She chuckled. “Okay. So, four years. Is it really weird if you just try something new—something subtle? Like, use a smaller towel around your body when you leave the bathroom.”

  “We have private baths in our rooms,” I pointed out. This was still too much to process.

  Isla took on a curious expression. One that smelled like trouble. “How much skin do you show at home? What’re your comfy clothes like?”

  “Oh, I don’t reveal much.” I shook my head vehemently. “You haven’t met any of the women Adam’s dated. They never hang around for long, but most of them have visited the restaurant when he worked, and they’re all tens. I think he picks them up in model school, if there’s such a thing.”

  “And you’re a twelve, but whatever.” She tried to reach her decaf iced tea I’d brought her, and it wasn’t working very well. I gave it to her and studiously ignored what she’d said. I was comfortable with who I was; my fifteen or twenty extra pounds were Adam’s food
, and I couldn’t say no to that. “It’s funny, though,” Isla mused. “You’ve lived together for years, and you’ve never seen each other naked?”

  I spluttered. “What the fuck? No? I never saw my dormmate in college naked either. Why would we? I wake up in the morning and get dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt—or after my shower… I mean, like I said, my bathroom’s in my bedroom. And when it wasn’t, I just put on clothes in the bathroom.”

  Isla hummed. “Does Adam do that too?”

  “Pshhh!” I laughed and waved a hand. “That man has no shame. I’ve never seen him naked, but he’ll walk around in his boxers sometimes. But then, he has the body for it.” In his twenties, he’d been a Greek god. Age had tampered with that in the sexiest ways. He was stockier now and had more meat on his bones, which, in my opinion, was much hotter than washboard abs.

  “Or maybe he’s showing you what he’s got.” Isla winked.

  “I wish he wouldn’t.” I widened my eyes. “He flusters me too easily.”

  Isla laughed, only to wince and press a hand to her belly. “Fuck. If they could stop playing soccer with my bladder, I’d appreciate it.”

  I grinned and rose from the couch. “I’ll help you up. Then when you get back, I wanna talk about your family instead. Are they all back from Florida yet?”

  She grunted as I helped her off the couch. “I’d rather discuss how you’re going to seduce Adam by walking around in a top and panties.”

  I would never.

  I think.

  No, it was crazy.

  Right?

  * * *

  “Jesus Christ, I’m tired,” Adam yawned as he came out from his bedroom. Isla popped into my head when I noticed he was only wearing a towel around his hips. There was a noticeable bump where his c— “You wanna watch a movie before bed?”

  I snapped my gaze upward and fruitlessly willed my blush to fuck off. “I, uh…it’s late. Shouldn’t you sleep?” I distracted myself by opening the fridge to raid it for leftovers. We’d worked nonstop since noon; Adam was in the middle of planning the spring menu, I’d been clearing the leaves and weeds from the courtyard, and then we’d had a full restaurant most of the evening. It was almost midnight. I just wanted a quick bite to eat and then crash.

  “We can sleep in tomorrow,” Adam said and threw himself on the couch. “C’mon, it’s been ages since we just chilled together.”

  I released a breath and peered down at the clothes I’d put on after my own shower. Cazzo, I was letting Isla’s words get into my head. No, sweatpants and a T-shirt wouldn’t seduce anyone, but what did that matter when there was no one to seduce? She was nuts.

  After putting together two chicken sandwiches and grabbing a couple sodas, I reluctantly joined Adam on the couch where he was scrolling through the selection on Netflix.

  This was his version of Netflix and chill. Watching a movie with his homely gal pal.

  He made an appreciative sound as he bit into the sandwich and nodded in question at the movie he’d chosen.

  I nodded once, uncomfortable next to him. It was all Isla’s fault. I felt…ugly. It was one thing to accept being ordinary, a whole other to feel like I shouldn’t even sit next to Adam.

  While an action movie’s first explosion scene flashed across the flat screen, I chewed on a piece of bread and chicken, and I discreetly pulled up my sweats past my calves. I did have okay legs, I thought. I didn’t have to hide them.

  “I was thinking about your idea for Valentine’s,” Adam said around a mouthful of food. “I like the ratings, but I was wondering if we should go bigger.” He definitely had my attention. “A four-course experience—breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert. An all-day Valentine’s date over the course of a couple of hours.”

  “Aw, I like that.” I smiled and faced him better on the couch, crisscrossing my legs and forgetting about the movie and my sandwich. “It’s romantic. ‘Spend the day with me for dinner.’”

  “Exactly.” He nodded and mirrored my position. “That’s where the ratings come in. Breakfast and lunch will be lighter, replacing the regular bread and the apps. I haven’t thought about the dish there yet, but dinner will be spicier. That’s when we crank shit up and go adults-only—”

  “Wait, are you scrapping the cloudberry?” I thought that’d been a success in the making.

  “No, and not the fried bacon either.” He smirked. “Bacon is a breakfast food, after all. I’ll just alter the setup.” He paused as he took another bite of his sandwich. “Here’s the kicker. I like what you said about the three dipping bowls, and I wanna use the pocket plates. What do you think about sample-size meals all throughout the evening? Three samples for breakfast, three for lunch, three for dinner…”

  I pursed my lips. I hated halting his creative process, but I couldn’t see this working. We didn’t have the space, and he would work himself ragged with such an extensive menu for a single night.

  “Could we compromise?” I suggested. “You have the best reputation in town, Adam. People will buy this experience without giving the menu a single glance—you have their trust. And partly because even though you introduce them to original combinations, you still keep it pretty simple.”

  Adam nodded slowly, processing and scratching his jaw. “That’s legit. But I want the setup to have a pattern—a structure or a theme.”

  I hummed and went over what he’d said about jamming a day of meals into one dinner. “You might need the variety in how the meals are presented,” I pointed out. “Otherwise, it might get lost that it’s the four meals of the day. For instance, what do Americans eat for breakfast?”

  “Shit.”

  I grinned. “A donut or a muffin or a biscuit—you get my drift. So, the first meal could be presented like that. Like, say you create a little biscuit burger, and we serve it in a plain paper wrap with eggs on the side or whatever.” I waved a hand, because the food itself was his territory. “Lunch could come in a basket. That’s when workers run out to get takeout or sushi or something quick—a salad, whatever.”

  Adam’s eyes lit up, and the sight nearly made me choke on my breath. “If they preorder, we can have two selections. Lunch could easily be either something in a basket or on a small platter, a steakhouse assortment presented like a sushi plate.”

  His excitement only fueled how gorgeous he was, though I couldn’t help but worry too. “We don’t want you to burn out,” I sang lightly. “Honestly, tesoro. It’s going to be a lot of work.”

  He smiled and shrugged, stuffing the last of the sandwich into his mouth. “People will be talking about it for months. And I have you and Tracy.”

  I couldn’t stop him once his ideas were flowing, and they were good. I was only mothering him.

  “How many followers do we have on that Instagram thing?” he asked.

  I reached for my phone on the table. “Last I checked, I think it was like forty thousand.” I pulled up our account and nodded. “Almost forty-one.”

  “So, we’ll use next Monday to create a menu,” he said, referring to the only day we were closed. “Once it’s done, you do your thing. You post about the event on there, and we make it a week. Valentine’s week. Guests gotta make reservations, and it’s limited. First reservation, first serve.”

  I nodded and jotted on my to-do list on my phone. “I’ll make a waiting list too.” There were always cancellations, no matter how popular you were. “CC ad,” I mumbled to myself. Submissions for ads to our local weekly paper Camassia Courier were due every Wednesday, and it was the only place we’d ever advertised. That was the good thing about having a restaurant in a smaller town; word got around fast.

  “Forty-one thousand, huh?” Adam murmured. “That’s all your work, love.”

  I smirked to myself and kept adding things to the list. “That’s only me taking pictures of you and the restaurant. You’ve got quite the following.”

  I didn’t know why I was feeding his ego. He sure as hell didn’t need it. The women commenting about t
he chef being hot weren’t obnoxious, thankfully. Here and there, I’d see it when I went through the comments. And it wasn’t like they were wrong.

  The biggest bumps in the follower count had nothing to do with me, though. They happened whenever he was featured in a food-related magazine or he was part of some event.

  “You don’t put pictures of yourself on there?” Adam wondered.

  I shook my head and added one last thing to the list. “Well, there’s one, I guess. Tracy and I did a silly selfie a couple weeks ago when we were done with the veggie prep.”

  “Don’t make it a habit,” Adam joked and reached for his soda. “You don’t need more men barking up your tree.”

  I snorted. Sure. That made sense.

  Conversation lulled for a beat while Adam watched the movie, though he didn’t seem very into it. My guess, he was forming the Valentine’s menu in his head. Making plans and whatnot.

  Since I certainly didn’t have a long line of men barking up my tree, I leaned back against the cushions and logged in to Tinder to waste time and get some thumb exercise done. No one ever truly caught my eye, which was a good indication that I was way too hung up on my roommate and best friend. But a girl had to try.

  Swipe left, swipe left, right, left, left, left, left…

  “Can you scratch my head?”

  I quirked a brow at Adam, and he didn’t wait for my response. He repositioned himself and planted his head on my lap.

  “You are so spoiled.” And I was enabling it… As if I could keep my paws away from his thick, soft hair. I combed my fingers through it, and he hummed in approval. It took all my willpower not to glance down his body. The jerk still only wore that damn towel.

  Refocusing on my phone, I went back to swiping men on Tinder as I used my other hand in Adam’s hair. Christ, no. This one guy had fourteen snakes. What the fuck? Swipe left.

  Adam sighed.

  I scratched his neck the way he loved it.

  “What does it say on your profile?” he muttered. “Fuckin’ dating apps… They’re for hookups, nothing else.”