“No. You, Frank, and I all answer directly to Collin.” Then with a warm, genuine smile and a patient tone, he introduced me to the rest of the staff and spent the next couple hours walking me through the menu and policies and procedures.
Still excited and desperate to wring every drop of knowledge I could from him, I fired off questions and took detailed notes to study later. A couple of the other chefs gave me sideways glances, but I didn’t care if my bubbly enthusiasm and giant notepad revealed my rookie status. It would all be worth it when I jumped right into the flow and blew away the kitchen’s learning curve.
“We have a really important dinner coming up with about a hundred guests, so we’re going to focus on getting you trained to whip out dishes in a high-stress environment. Normally training wouldn’t be this intense, but after the last chef disappeared…” Brandon clamped his mouth shut.
“Disappeared?” I asked.
“I mean bailed,” he amended, fidgeting with his apron. “Didn’t even bother to give notice or call in and tell us he was done. Didn’t even pick up his final check.” His gaze went to a clipboard beside the grill. “Have I shown you this cleaning schedule yet?”
I let the abrupt topic change slide and shook my head, wondering what had really happened to the last chef. But I didn’t have much time to think about it, because the restaurant got busy the moment the doors opened, and the workday raced by in a blur of orders. Both Frank and Collin made a few appearances, no doubt sniffing around to make sure I hadn’t burned anything up or poisoned anyone, but for the most part everyone left us alone to work.
By the time I clocked out, my feet were aching, and I smelled like garlic and fish. I washed off as much of the funk as I could and let myself out the back door, stepping into a cloud of cigarette smoke. Waving my hand to disperse it, I headed for the bus stop.
“Annetta, wait,” someone said.
I turned to find Dominico from the interview walking toward me, lit cigarette in hand. He had to be close to six-and-a-half feet tall, and the top of my head barely reached his shoulders. Clean-shaven with his dark hair combed back, he looked slick in his tailored suit. My gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and big arms for a moment longer than I’d intended. I couldn’t help it. Although he was a pig, the manwashot. The kind of hot that made good girls make very bad decisions. He took one last drag before tossing the butt on the sidewalk and snuffing it out with a shiny black oxford.
The city buzzed around us, but the sidewalk where we stood seemed strangely isolated, making me feel vulnerable and exposed. Something dark and exciting danced in Dominico’s bloodshot eyes, making me question the safety of being alone with him. Still, he had been in on my interview, so I needed to play nice.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Just thought I’d be friendly and walk you to your car,” he replied.
Since it was none of his business that I couldn’t afford a car, I said, “Thanks, but I can manage.” I turned and continued toward the bus stop.
I heard the sound of his footsteps behind me, but kept going.
“But the parking lot’s that way,” he said.
Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that he was pointing the opposite direction and kept walking. “Neat.”
“Don’t you wanna go that way?” he asked.
Seeing no way to avoid telling him the truth, I said, “I’m riding the bus.”
He hurried to get in front of me. “Will you just hold up a second?”
I stopped and put my hands on my hips, fully aware my stance would come off as hostile. I felt hostile. My feet hurt, my arms and shoulders felt like they were made of rubber, and I wanted to get home and relax. “Do you need something?”
He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well, and realize I came off as sort of a dick.”
His blunt self-examination surprised me, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “You were hungover and acting like a chauvinistic pig,” I corrected.
One of his eyebrows shot up. He stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. “You sure don’t pull your punches, do you?”
“Should I?” I asked. “A big boy like you should be able to take them.”
Why did that sound like I was hitting on him? Appalled, I hurried to correct myself. “I mean… That didn’t come out right.”
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You sure?”
Gah, the man was infuriating. I tried to step around him, but he held out an arm, stopping me.
“You’re right though, I did act like a chauvinistic pig… and a dick. Let me make up for it by giving you a ride home.”
His apology seemed sincere, and I could tell he had a decent sense of humor, but I didn’t know him from Adam. I’d heard plenty of stories about girls who got into cars with sexy men they didn’t know and had no desire to become a statistic.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m good.” But since I didn’t want to be rude, I added, “See you tomorrow.”
