“Jo?” I guessed where this was going.But I was wrong again.
He shook his head. “Cooking.”
The ache in my chest needed to hearhe had a happy ending, though. I needed to hear him tell me she became a motherto him and gave him the life he’d always wanted. “But you did love Jo, didn’tyou?”
He chuckled. “Later. Much later. Forthe most part, Jo was more of a drill sergeant than a mom. She didn’t toleratedisobedience or laziness. Ezra and I worked hard for her. We earned our roomand board from the sweat off our backs. We hated her at first. Ezra still hatesher sometimes, but then again, Ezra is prone to hating a lot of things. Anyway,she got the job done. She turned Ezra and me into functioning adults andencouraged us to go to college. In return, we helped her turn her garden into afarm and grow her business. To this day, it’s still a give and takerelationship. She provides us with the best produce; we give her our exclusivebusiness.”
He’d seared steak, made a sauce andpoached eggs during his story. Now he plated them with grace and poise andprecision. He was everything a great chef should be.
Everything a good man ought to be.
“Does she still take foster kids?” Iasked out of sheer curiosity.
His affectionate smile lit up his face. “Whoelse would work her farm?” He lifted his gaze, revealing deep loyalty and sincerity.“I hope you know I mean that in the best way. She’s not a slave driver. Shegives kids that have never loved or cherished anything the chance to havesomething of their own. It’s more about developing a strong work ethic andsense of accomplishment than her crops.”
I smiled reassuringly. “She’s likethe Mr. Miyagi of farming.”
He nodded, turning back to theplate. “Exactly.”
“So you left her farm and went toculinary school? And Ezra?”
“Ezra’s real dad found him hissenior year of high school. It’s a pretty messed up story, but basically, hisdad was very wealthy and really sick. He’d always known Ezra existed but hadtrouble finding him because of something his birth mom did. Anyway, long storyshort, Ezra’s dad died two years later, leaving Ezra and his half-sister Dillona pretty substantial inheritance. Ezra turned that money into more money. It turnsout Jo taught me how to cook and Ezra how to work twenty hours of every day.”
We fell silent for a few minuteswhile he finished plating and I digested his story. My heart hurt for the childhe’d been, for the troubled teen that had needed so much guidance, for the manthat he was today that only loved two things—cooking and Jo. And at the sametime, I marveled at how well he’d done for himself, at the man he’d becomedespite his circumstances.
He walked over, handing me a fork, aplate of food and a glass of wine he’d borrowed from the restaurant cellar.He’d sliced steak over crispy hash and nestled the poached egg in the middle. Acreamy yellow sauce crisscrossed over the top. Hollandaise?
“I can do fancy Americana, too,” hesaid by way of explanation.
“Steak and eggs. Very creative.”
He nudged me with his elbow. “Smartass.”
We dove into our food, and I triednot to have another orgasm. First, from the excellent Cabernet he’d picked out.Then from the meal he’d cooked for me.Oh,my God.The steak was probably one of the best I’d ever had. I didn’t needfussy food, I just wanted it well-flavored and perfectly cooked. Killianaccomplished both so effortlessly that it was hard not to be jealous of him.
“Ezra paid for culinary school.”
I looked over at him, surprised byhis statement. “Is that why you stay atLilou?”
He took another bite of steakwithout responding. “We have our differences, but he’s been there for me when Ihad nobody else.”
Reaching over to steal one of hisstrips of steak, I very casually said, “But there are other chefs out there.Chefs who would kill for this job. Maybe even murder you for it. Here’s thething, when Ezra paid for you to go to school did he know he wanted to openrestaurants?”
Killian shook his head. “No. Thatcame much later.”
“He didn’t send you to school so hecould have a personal chef, right?”
“Right.”
“And you’re paying him back?”
“I did. Years ago.”
“What do you have to feel guiltyfor? If you think it will destroy your relationship with Ezra, I mean maybe Iunderstand your hesitation. But Killian, you can’t live your life for someoneelse. You hate it here.”
Setting his plate down next to him,he leaned back on one hand and stared at me. “I don’t hate it here. I’m justfrustrated. And I feel… stagnant.”
“Then you have your answer. You’retoo good at your job to feel stuck.”
