“No problem.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, I got a call from work. There’s an emergency,” he lied. “I have to go check on the shop.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s an eight-hour round trip. They can’t manage without you?”
“No.”
“You know, Livvy’s feeling better. Maybe she can go over and—”
“No, they need me.” He cast around for something that only he, as an owner, could do. “A legal, financial... thing.”
“A legal and financial thing?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Oh. Livvy and Nicholas are arriving tomorrow. When will you be back?”
Tomorrow was Wednesday. If he came back tomorrow, he’d still have days to go before the wedding on Saturday. Days of being in Eve’s company.
There was no help for it, though. He didn’t want to upset Livvy. “I’ll be back by then.”
Sadia shrugged. “Okay. Don’t stay gone for long. I could use another non-Kane-or-Chandler here.”
His smile felt frozen. But at least it was there, hiding everything else.
Eve walked in on a minor crisis. Alistair stood inside the kitchen, wringing his hands, while a short, rotund man in an apron yelled at Jackson. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and rearranging my kitchen?”
Jackson folded his massive arms—slightly bigger than Gabe’s arms, but the same general musculature, Eve noticed—and stared at the smaller man. Smoke scurried over to Jackson and flopped himself over one of the man’s large feet. Kareem pressed close to her leg. She cleared her throat delicately. “Is there a problem here?”
Jackson turned his gaze on her. He was so different from Gabe—his darker brown skin, the shape of his eyes, his distant attitude—but at the same time, he was so similar it made her head spin.
How had no one seen the resemblance before? And who on earth was Gabe’s birth mother?
Okay, you have to shelve thinking about Gabe for like half a minute. Maybe even a full minute.
“The kitchen needs to be rearranged. It’s a mess,” Jackson said. The flat tone might have fooled people into thinking he was arrogant, but after months of getting to know him, Eve knew that wasn’t the case. He was reserved, like she could be. He was also painfully introverted.
Alistair cleared his throat. “Our understanding was that Mr. Kane would be using the kitchen on Friday and Saturday evening, for the festivities. We have hired Chef Arnold for the remainder of the time.”
Jackson shifted. Smoke growled and abandoned his perch, wandering off to sniff along the baseboard. “I changed my mind. I want the kitchen all week.”
It took a second for Eve to understand what Jackson was saying. Heneededthe kitchen.
“Is this man even a chef?” Arnold spluttered.
Kareem gave a soft snort at her side and Eve almost echoed it, though silently. Jackson was a world-renowned chef. Well, anonymously. He traveled the world as the culinary genius behind Kane, a pop-up restaurant dedicated to comfort food. Mac and cheese, poke, katsudon, curry—there was nothing the man couldn’t do with fresh, humble ingredients.
Eve rested her hand on Kareem’s head and launched straight into event planner mode, adopting a soothing tone. “Thank you, but we’ll be okay handling our own meals, Alistair. Chef Arnold, why don’t you take a vacation for the rest of the week? Paid,” she tacked on hastily when the man’s face turned red.
“That sounds fair.” Alistair relaxed.
Arnold sniffed, his bulbous nose twitching. “Fine,” he finally said, and stomped out, Alistair trailing behind him.
“Was that necessary?” she asked when they were alone.
Jackson shrugged and opened a drawer. “What else am I supposed to do around here for days?”
“There are lots of activities.”
“Activities with other people.”
