TheSkyIsn’tMyLimit
I appreciate that, Walker. I hope you know that.
Me
Well, I would appreciate it if you continued to keep things between us.
TheSkyIsn’tMyLimit
You have my word.
And thank you for the steak. Aside from the pizza, it was the best meal I’d ever had.
“Hey, Chef. I have an extremely important party of twelve in the private dining room, and they’re asking if you’ll make your famous scallops,” Hilary said from the other side of the prep station.
She was too short to see through the opening between the shelves, so I ducked my head to get a better angle, and I glared at her. I knew that voice without even seeing her face becauseshe was endlessly fucking asking for something. “How in the hell do they know about my diver scallops?”
They weren’t on the menu.
But every other day, when the food deliveries came in, we got a shipment, per my request. Somehow, they were always eaten, whether the cooking staff prepared them for themselves or word spread that we kept them in stock or our waitstaff accidentally or purposefully dropped that bomb to our guests.
However, never did we get a specific request formeto make them.
In the past, I had willingly prepared them. More recently, that was a task I’d been assigning to my sous chef.
“Keith will make them,” I told her.
“You really want to give an important partymyscallops?” Keith asked from behind me, standing at the gas range, obviously hearing our conversation.
I turned to look at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You know I have a love-hate relationship with those things. And no matter what I do, they’ll never taste as good as yours.”
I looked at Hilary. “Keith’s will be good enough.”
“Chef, they’re for James Ryne-Young,” Hilary said. “You know, the hottest actress in Hollywood? She’s here with her husband, Brett, and ten of their A-list friends. She specifically asked ifyouwere here and ifyouwould make them. And ifyouwould deliver them. I guess she wants to talk to you.”
Every time the wordyoucame out of her mouth, my nerves peaked a little higher.
I clenched my fingers together. “You told her I was here?”
Hilary shrugged. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“Next time, don’t assume anything about me is public knowledge. Got it?”
Her eyes widened, and she stopped blinking. “I’m sorry.”
Goddamn it.
Hilary and her big fucking mouth.
I glanced at the gas range, the stack of clean pans to the right, the different bottles of oil and containers of fats to the left. An area of the kitchen that used to feel like home. Where I could whip up several dozen scallops in less than ten minutes.
Now the sight made my stomach churn.
The acid in my chest was as strong as the fire that licked the underside of the metal burner grates.
James Ryne-Young wasn’t going to enjoy Keith’s scallops.
