Yes, I do talk to myself. It happens when no one listens to you.
I’m going to have to pack all this stuff. I’m going to have to hire a moving van. I have to have a place to move to, and a job once I get there.
“The great chefs have two options,” I tell myself as I look at the autographed poster of Duff Goldman that hangs over the desk in my bedroom. “We can go to culinary school or work our way up through the kitchens. Restaurant jobs can’t be too hard to come by, not if you’re willing to work.”
I carefully pull the sticky tack off the corners of the poster and free Duff from the wall. “You're coming with me, Duff. It’s just you and me, now.”
Duff is my idol, and he’s my template for future boyfriends—the kind I know I’ll never have. He’s cute and funny, and that’s what I’m after. You can’t have boyfriends that are hot, tall, and ripped like a Greek god when you’re a fat, round little potato of a woman. Well, maybe you can, but they’re probably a-holes. Also, my ideal man has to be good in the kitchen and encourage my skills, not care about money, and be open to someone with baggage and Daddy issues. Like I said, this isn’t going to happen. I’m as likely to find a guy like that as I am to find a unicorn chilling in the park.
Chapter Three: How It’s Going
“Open that oven, and I’ll kill you.”
“Strangle me with a hairnet, huh?”
My little sister (younger by three minutes and shorter by a little over two feet) refuses to acknowledge that even though we own The Pine Loft together, the kitchen half of this coffee shop ismine.M.I.N.E.
No, I do not play nice with others.
Well... not often.
You can’t even blame it on the fact that I’m half-Orc. I’ve known human chefs to be just as possessive about their kitchens. You should see our mother. (I’m one of the few exceptions to the fortress-like guard she has over her stove.)
Actually, if you saw our mother, you’d be sure I was adopted. My mother is a tall, beautiful blonde-going-silver-haired human with a sweet smile and pale apple blossom skin. My sister looks exactly like her, except for being shorter, stubborner, and having blonde curly hair that she keeps cut short. I take after our dad, tall, green, and tusky. Not husky, tusky. He has tusks. All full-Orcs have tusks.
Right now, if I had tusks instead of these little poky fangs hidden by my lower lip, I would growl and threaten Georgia with them.
“Those are my three-cheese individual soufflés. They are three minutes away from perfection. Open the oven now, and I will have to start over—with a delay to clean your blood off the range.”
Georgia sighs. “Well, no one can say you run a dirty kitchen.”
“Damn straight. Here.” I finish garnishing two orders of croque madame with fresh parsley leaves and a single sprig of chive. “Order up.”
Georgia inhales and smiles at me. “Divine, as always.”
I smile back. One sure way to get in my good graces is to acknowledge my culinary genius. Simple food can be elevated food, tasty food, or most appropriately in my case—divine food. “You are granted a stay of execution, sister dearest.”
“That’s good, because ifyouhad to run the register and smile and make small talk—you’d be the one pushing up daisies. Or sequoias.”
“Ha ha.”
“Can you make two more of those for Diana and me?”
I grumble but grab the flat of eggs, my huge green fingers knowing how to pick up five eggs at once without cracking a single shell. “You’re lucky Diana wants one, too.” Diana is our only waitress, and she’s one of the few people I let see me. To most people, I’m just a voice yelling, “Order up!”
Pine Ridge is a mix of supernatural residents, humans who know what’s up, and oblivious humans. Diana is currently in the know, but she’s human.
How come she gets to be in my grumpy-ass presence?
Two reasons. One, she’s a good waitress and she’s worked here for months.
Two, she had a rotten ex-boyfriend who came looking for her after she got out of his clutches.
In case you didn’t know—Orcs are very protective. One might sayextremelyprotective. Once I protect someone, they’re mine, whether it’s as a treasured friend, adopted family member... or mate. I protected Diana from him. Others helped.
“What’s wrong?”
Georgia is too smart and knows me too well. I turn my face and prepare to retrieve my soufflés. “Nothing.”
