Self control, woman. Ever heard of it?
“Hey, you,” she greets gently, not wanting to startle him.
Alexander turns to look at her over his shoulder. His smile is wide and warm, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does. “Hey,” he replies softly. “Have you eaten yet?”
Eden shakes her head sheepishly. “No, sorry.”
“Figured.” Alexander plates what he’s been working on and sets the food down on the nearest prep table. “Pull up a stool.”
Something blooms within Eden’s chest as she sits down, eyeing the meal Alexander’s prepared for her. Just a whiff of it is enough to have her stomach grumbling.
He’s made her a chicken Florentine crepe. The crepe itself is thin and crisp, a beautiful golden-brown blanket around its savory filling. The rotisserie chicken is mixed in with bits of juicy mushrooms, chopped up spinach, and a very healthy helping of Italian blend cheese. Eden can smell the roasted garlic and the hint of nutmeg he threw in.
The first bite is like taking a bite out of heaven. She almost inhales the whole damn thing.
It’s rich, it’s buttery, it’s perfect.
“Ah, wow,” she mumbles, mouth full. “This is so good.”
“You really think so?”
“Mm-hmm. You should be a chef.”
“Hilarious,” he says dryly. His smile betrays him.
God, it should be illegal to look that handsome.
She waits until she’s devoured about half her meal before swallowing to ask, “What did Sebastian want last night?”
Alexander rolls his eyes. “Same thing he always does. Updates on the new menu. I BS’d my way through some suggestions. He’s out of town right now checking on one of his other restaurants. He said he’d be in by the end of the month for a taste test. “
“But you don’t have anything yet.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s a dangerous game.”
He shrugs. If Eden didn’t know any better, she’d argue he looks defeated. Resigned.
It’s sad, really. Eden can see the struggle in his eyes, the disinterest. She knows Alexander is talented, one of the best chefs of their generation. There have been countless news and magazine articles, as well as hundreds of reviews from some of the most esteemed food critics raving about his dishes.
So this apparent disconnect is confusing to witness. Something’s holding him back.
She knows it, he knows it.
And if Sebastian knows it, Alexander’s in trouble.
“What were some of the things you suggested?” she asks him.
“Mostly seafood dishes. Lots of lobster. Asshole food snobs love lobster. They think it’s the fanciest fucking shit out there.”
“Didn’t they used to feed lobster to prisoners because it was so cheap?”
Alexander nods. “Back when they used to overfish and had an overabundance. Now, it’s a delicacy.”
Eden smiles. “I’m getting the sense you don’t actually like lobster.”
“I hate it. Takes too long to cook, hard to prep, pain in the ass to plate. I swear to God, if I hear one more complaint about portion sizes being a rip-off, I’ll jump into the pot of boiling water myself.”
