Interest sparked in his bright eyes,darkening them, deepening them. “Worked, as in cooked?”
“Yeah, you know I just hopped fromkitchen to kitchen. Nothing fancy or famous. Just your average bistro or café.I wanted some perspective. Some flavor for my resume.”
“You couldn’t get that inCharlotte?”
“Not like that.” Charlotte had agreat food scene. There were plenty of notable kitchens to work out of. Theoretically,I could have built a great resume there. Except that hadn’t been in the cardsfor me. I skipped over the sordid details of my past and told him the truth.“Charlotte was a great place to start. But come on, Europe? Last June I was inBarcelona. Then Paris. Then Rome. Then Tuscany. Vienna. Berlin. All the littletowns in between. So, no, I couldn’t get that in Charlotte.”
“That explains your flavors.”
“You hate my flavors.”
He held my gaze, unflinching,showing me something I hadn’t seen before. “You don’t get it. Or maybe youdon’t see it. Your flavors are going to be legend, Vera. They’re going to makeyoua legend.”
“If I can remember to get the saltright.”
His lips twitched again. “Ideally,yeah. If you can be careful with the salt.”
“So what about you then? How did youfind your footing?”
He shook his head, crossing his armsover his chest. We were as far apart as we could be in the small space. Heleaned against one counter, and I leaned against the other.
He was such a man. Not in the sexistsense, but like the anatomical sense. His long, lean body was all muscled frameand virile strength. His tattoos only added to his hard edges, feeding thatmasculine presence and making me feel very, very female.
Delicately feminine compared to hisintoxicating male-ness.
I yanked the bandana off and retiedmy hair in a messy bun on the top of my head. Killian watched me, fascinated.
He waited until my hair was situatedbefore he spoke. “Chicago,” he explained, although I already knew that from myprior years of light cyberstalking. “I cut my teeth at Americana under TobyManier.” He crossed his feet at the ankles, leaning backagainst the counter, a nostalgic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “God,those years were hell.”
“I’ve heard horror stories about hiskitchens,” I empathized.
He looked up at me from beneaththose long lashes, and I felt my heart jump in my chest, surprised by theboyish expression and warmth waiting there. “Whatever you’ve heard, they can’tcompare to the truth. He was psychotic. And paranoid like you would notbelieve. Before he died, I would get regular cease and desist letters from him.Ezra had to keep a lawyer on retainer just to fight my legal battles with him.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish.” He laughed again, thesound all melty chocolate and cozy firesides. “But I learned how to clean akitchen working for him. And I learned how to bust my ass for every singlething. In his kitchen, there was no small task. Every single thing meantsomething bigger, greater. He was a slave driver for sure, but I don’t regretthose days.”
I felt some of my awe for himreturn. Not many people could live through TobyManierand thank him for his strident obsessiveness. But it was clear, despite legalissues and slave labor, Killian still respected the man. “What made you leaveAmericana?”
He rubbed at his beard again,shaping it with two hands until it made a point. “It was clear very early on inmy career that I needed to run my own kitchen. I’ve always struggled to follow therules and listen to authority. Once I got my feet under me, I decided what Iwanted to do, and there was little to stop me after that. I moved to New Yorkand tried working in a few other kitchens. Etienne Immanuel, Sasha Goering andChristopher Perry to name a few. It was the same song and dance in everykitchen, though. I learned, I studied, I grew and then I needed to move on.”
“Do they all hate you for it?”
He laughed and looked at his shoes.“They should. But other than Toby, I somehow convinced them all to stay friends.”
“What brought you to Durham?”
“Ezra,” he said easily. “We’re fromhere. When he told me his plan forLilou, I couldn’tresist.”
“We’re? You and Ezra?”
“Born and raised. We grew uptogether.”
“So what, one day you were on theplayground at recess and just decided that he would open restaurants and youwould become a world-renowned chef?”
The look in his eyes turned wicked.“That’s exactly how it happened.”
“Nu-uh!”
