“No other chefs?”
“Not yet. I don’t want anyone cleverer than me crawling up my arse while I figure this shit out.” Anger rises in him again. He screws his eyes shut and takes another grounding breath. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It really is. I don’t understand ADHD half as much as I want to, but I know Joss well enough to compute that his cycling emotions aren’t for me. They aren’t even for him, they just…are, and he has to let them play out. “Why don’t you do something else for a while then come back to it after. I can help you. Tanner does his rosters the same way I did them for the mountain-rescue team. We can work it out.”
Joss latches onto something I say. He frowns, his crystal-blue gaze piercing my soul. “You were in charge?”
“I was the lead on my team.” The words feel alien, but I’m proud of them. For a while back there, I had everything I thought I wanted. “Big fish, small pond, though. We’re a tiny state. It’s not like fuckin’ Alaska where Tanner worked.”
“Tanner was mountain rescue too?”
I nod. “Thought you knew that? Me or Jax didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask. Didn’t need to when I saw how much they love each other. Who cares where he came from if he looks at my friend like he’d burn the world down for him?”
Can’t argue with that logic. But the conversation topic reminds me that I owe Joss a grisly tale of woe.Later.It’ll keep. “What were you doing with that pan?”
Joss blinks. In a hot second, he slips from my embrace, attention diverted to whatever I interrupted but without the eviscerating rage.
Mission accomplished, but my arms feel empty without him. I push off the door and venture farther into the kitchen. Joss is frowning at the dent in the pan as if he can’t remember how it got there. Does he need to remember? I’m no expert, but I can’t see the benefit.
I take the pan from his hands and set it,gently, on the burner. “What are you making?”
“I’m testing the vegan starter you were so excited about.” His tone is droll. “Just making sure it works with different greens, then this baby is done.”
“The menu?”
“Tanner had some test prints done a few days ago. Have I seen you since then? Fuck, where did I put them?”
Joss spins away from the stove and ducks into the ambient storage area. The gas burner is on high, flames licking the pan. After a minute or so, I turn it off.
It’s still smoking when Joss comes back.
He winces. “I have holes in my brain today, I swear.”
“No harm done.”
“Tanner never asked me how many kitchens I’ve burned down.”
“Should he have?”
“It’s classified information. Couldn’t possibly fucking comment.”
Joss hands me a stack of menus. They’re all different. All hideous. “Um…”
“I know. Fugly as hell, right?”
“Fugly? What—oh, I get it. Yeah, they ain’t pretty.”Not like you.
I cover my mouth with my hand and smile.
Joss knocks my hand away. “Don’t ever hide that shit.”
“What?”
“You know.”
I think I do, but I’m not sure. So I say nothing and study the least offensive version of the menu. I’ve eaten every dish except the wild-ass appetizer he’s about to prepare, but one stands out. “Bowen’sburger?”
