“Is that formoi?”
He tilted his head toward Benny. “And my new sous chef.”
Benny the Brick, as I liked to call him, was built like a linebacker. Big, bulky muscles for days. His shaved head and tough demeanor gave him the “I used to work for the mob” look that intimidated most everyone at first. Until you got to know him and realized he was a big old softy.
And kind of lazy.
He loved cooking, but he didn’t want the responsibility of sous chef. The man ran from anything that required more than his hourly-employee shifts. He didn’t want a salary that would force him to work more hours than he was technically getting paid for—even if it also came with a gigantic raise.
He also didn’t like to be the bad guy. He was too worried about everyone liking him to enjoy the idea of being upper management.
Too bad for him he was fantastic at his job. With Kaya gone and me leaving, there was no way Wyatt was going to let him get away with slumming it any longer.
It was sous chef or no chef.
“I blame you for this,” he said to me as he made his way over from one of the cooktops. “This is all your fault.”
Grinning at him, I accepted the full glass of champagne from Wyatt and held it up in the air. “You’re welcome.”
He grumbled something profane under his breath while Wyatt passed him his drink.
“To chefs that can cook like fucking gods,” Wyatt toasted.
My smile stretched as we clinked glasses and tasted greatness from a bottle. “God, that’s good.”
Benny finally loosed a smile too. “That is pretty damn incredible.”
Wyatt shrugged. “I found it in Ezra’s office.” At our stunned expressions, he quickly added, “Don’t tell him.”
“He was probably saving that for his wedding night or something.”
Wyatt’s cheeks turned a pinkish hue. “I hadn’t thought about that.” He took another long drink and then poured more into his glass. “Shit.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I assured him.
“Me too,” Benny agreed. “But mainly because I don’t want to die. I like breathing.”
I leaned forward, unable to wipe the goofy grin off my face. “Especially now that you have your fancy new job.”
He pursed his lips together and shook his head. “On second thought…”
“Don’t be a weenie,” I laughed. “It’s time to step up and take the bull by the horns.” I tilted my head toward my former boss and said, “Wyatt being the bull in this scenario.”
The big, muscly marshmallow looked at Wyatt and grimaced. “I’m not a weenie.”
“She’s right,” Wyatt agreed. “You’re a weenie.”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to work for you.”
Wyatt gave him a quizzical look. “You already work for me.”
“Yeah, but not like that,” Benny insisted. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, bro.”
Wyatt’s confused look did not go away and I couldn’t help but laugh. This was a bromance thing? Who would have guessed?
“He can be an asshole,” I shared with Benny. “The important thing to remember is that he doesn’t really mean what he says when he’s in the kitchen. Just think of him as being temporarily possessed and you’ll be able to forgive him in the morning.”
Wyatt’s insulted expression made me want to laugh again so I took another drink of champagne. I felt tipsy, despite having only had a few sips of alcohol. I realized it was the kitchen high. And it was amazing. It was why I went to culinary school. Why I sacrificed a life as a socialite—even though I had plenty of money to live on—to work my ass off in a blazing hot kitchen night after night. It was the reason I had taken Ezra’s offer even though I knew I wasn’t ready for this job.
