He walked out of the door and left me standing there in the cold storage, surrounded by only mute food, sighing and rubbing the bridge of my nose. Out in the hall, I heard the back exit open and close: Grey had left the restaurant entirely rather than go backthrough the kitchen. Maybe he knew that every single person in there seemed to have a reason to be angry at him today.
I sighed again and grabbed the tray. There wasn’t time to stand around thinking about this. I walked out back into the kitchen and returned to work.
It was way too soon before my plating moved into the final stage, leaving me standing next to Rafael at the head of the kitchen, assembling all of the prepared elements for all of the dishes we covered. I glanced sideways to see him scattering a garnish of chives across the top of his risotto so haphazardly that it looked like a mistake. By contrast, my precisely squared vegetable mosaic was beautiful.
“You may want to hurry up,” Rafael said. “They’re all awaiting service out there.”
“I’m perfectly on time, thanks,” I told him mildly.
“It’s not going to look good if all of my dishes are out while the other half of the diners are waiting for all of yours.”
“Then stop rushing and making a mess of your plates just so you can say you’ve beaten me,” I said, looking up and meeting his gaze for the barest second before bending back over the plates. “I know speed is the only category youcanwin, but that doesn’t mean you should sacrifice everything else.”
Rafael scowled. “Hijo de puta,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” I asked, grinning. I had heard him fully, and I understood the Spanish. “I didn’t catch that.”
“Concentrate on your fancy little squares,” he said, and I shook my head with a laugh.
“That was the most interesting you’ve ever been,” I said. “Shame it only lasted five seconds.”
“I’m sure you hear that a lot, yourself,” Rafael shot back, and this time I caught a sly curve of just the very edge of his mouth.
Then he caught me looking at him, and a scowl dropped over his face again.
I concentrated back on my plating with my heart beating unsteadily. I hadn’t been lying. He’d never been more attractive to me than when he finally let go and called me names and insinuated things at me. But the look on his face now was worrying – almost terrifying.
It was a look of real anger, distaste, disgust. Whatever was driving that look on his face, he really didn’t like it.
Was it possibly just because I had pushed him so far, or was there something more behind it?
I thought about doing something that would get his attention when he wasn’t looking. Moving a spatula to the wrong side of the station or swapping our tongs over so that he had to use the ones with the blue handle. Something that would drive him mad.
Then I’d find out what was really going on – whether he had a problem with me or just a problem in general.
But now was a bad time to try and provoke a reaction from him. I couldn’t manage a service this big with one less chef, and if I pushed him too far, maybe he would fly off the handle.
“Party is seated,” Nikolai announced grandly as he pushed through the doors. “We need to go right now.”
I gestured to the first of my fully finished plates and watched Nikolai and Kit whisk them away, the first of many that were going to pass under our hands today. It was going to be a long evening; all our orders going out at once when normally we would be able to deal with one or two tables at a time.
I looked up at Beau, who was still serving as my line cook, getting the final ingredients that I needed for each of the dishes I was plating tonight. “Keep it coming, chef,” I called out to him. “No delays. It’s going to get wild. Stop thinking and start moving some food.”
“Yes, Chef!” Beau barked back at me, his hands starting to fly as he reached for the next tray, and I braced myself.
Whatever was going on with Rafael could wait – and it would.
But once this service was over, I was going to find out what the fuck had him looking at me like that.
Rafael
I glared at Drake over the plate I was working on, watching him turn and check on the progress of Nikolai and Kit as they took the first dishes into the restaurant. Chaos was about to unfold, but it barely made a difference. I’d been living in chaos all day.
Especially since he and Grey had gone to the back of the kitchen together, down into the storage hall, and hadn’t emerged back out again for a suspiciously long time. In fact, Grey had never emerged at all.
They’d had sex. In the food storage. I knew it.
It had been quick, which was at least one thing to be bitterly pleased about. Neither of them was anything special. But Drake had come back belatedly with a tray of vegetables – a tray he hadn’t needed, because it was still sitting untouched on the side of the prep counter – and with his hair all mussed up. Like someone had run their hands through it.
