I walked over to him, half nervous, half expectant. My second husband had once done something similar to make me see dishes that he didn’t think were clean enough. It had been one of the few times I’d thought he was going to hit me.
But this was Jack. He was smiling, that huge grin on his face that told me he was amused.
As I reached him, he took one of my hands in his and put his other on my waist.
“Dance with me.”
I giggled. I almost didn’t recognise the noise.
Then we moved. Muscle memory kicked in and I recalled how to bend and relax and twist and be dipped. The lyrics ofBe My Babyfilled the kitchen and we ended up dancing in the space where a table should’ve gone.
The song ended and Jack caught me against his chest, pulling me against him.
“You still got moves.”
I laughed, holding on, my arms wrapped around him. He felt solid and firm, the scent of last night’s cologne still lingering.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
His arms loosened and I stepped away, reluctantly. It had been too long since I’d even touched someone else on purpose. My girlfriends weren’t huggers and I wasn’t the sort of person to be overly touchy with friends or the odd distant relative.
“We should go dancing one night after work. If you want.”
His stare was almost daring.
“I’d like that. But what will the others say?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter? Whatever they say you’re still the boss and the owner. It’s time to eat. Take a seat.”
“You can’t wait on me in my kitchen. It should be the other way round.” I headed to the counter instead.
“Sit down, Sim. You can do this next time.”
There was going to be a next time.
Did I want there to be a next time?
“Were you this good to all the people you’ve worked for?”
He brought two plates over, sourdough with smashed avocado, poached eggs and crispy bacon that he’d covered in maple syrup first. It smelled divine.
“I’m a nice guy. But no, I don’t generally cook my bosses breakfast. I don’t have any agenda here, Simone.” He sat down opposite me. “I’m not after a promotion or to steal your business or anything like that.”
“You’d like to be more involved in the menu though.” I knew this was true. He was a chef, that was what he did: create dishes that were worthy of mouthgasms.
“Yes, because I enjoy it. But I don’t have an ego that needs massaging. I like working for you. I like Mount Street and the vibe we have going there. I’m not looking to take over the world.”
“How do I know you’re not spinning me a line?”
“You don’t. You have to take me at my word. So what are you going to do today?”
I didn’t respond straight away. My mouth was full. Whatever else he’d added to the avocado was amazing. I could think about it and analyse the flavours, but I just wanted to enjoy it. I’d had breakfast cooked for me in my own home. That hadn’t happened before.
“This is amazing, by the way. I need to go to Toad Hall, see how the building work is doing. I also have to arrange a meeting with the investors. Give them an update on how things are progressing.” And by investors, I meant primarily my first husband. He’d gotten me started with Blue; he and his business partner were also the biggest shareholders in Mount Street and they had both bought into The Tipsy Toad.
“So you’ll find time to book in at your friend’s spa?”
I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Vanessa or Sophie had nagged me to do something for myself. “Maybe. If I can get a cancelation I might have a massage.”
