Jonah heard the slow footsteps in the hall, the particular pause as Marcel made some private decision about how to enter his own kitchen, and then the chef came in.
“The baby’s awake,” he said simply, looking at Pepper like Atlas belonged to her. “Why don’t you take care of him while Lawson and I have a conversation?”
Oh, that’ll be fun, Jonah thought. Before he could respond, she practically flew out of the room.
“Coming, Atlas!” she called as her footsteps disappeared down the long hall.
Marcel didn’t say anything for a beat, but his gaze settled on the recliner they’d moved to get to the door and generator but had not yet returned to its normal spot.
“Sorry about your chair.”
“Pepper told me that door burst open.”
He nodded. “The lock is broken, but I managed to get it closed. It’s the only damage except for the branches.” He considered offering to help clean up the yard, but his gut told him the less he said, the better.
“She said you took care of…things.”
Jonah heard the slightest note of begrudging respect and clung to it for dear life. “I…tried to keep everyone safe, sir.”
Marcel nodded once. He put both his hands flat on the countertop, big chef’s fingers all nicked at the knuckles, and he looked at Jonah.
“I was clear about my daughter, wasn’t I? When we spoke in the coffee shop?”
Jonah looked at him, picking and choosing from several different responses, none of which seemed right. “Yes, sir.”
“Then I come home and find out that not only did you not steer clear of her, youhiredher, spent the night here, and…and…”
“That’s all, sir. Nothing happened. I swear. I really like her and?—”
He shut up when Marcel’s hand rose with the universal sign forstop or die.
Jonah sighed and straightened his spine, which apparently turned into cooked spaghetti around this man. And that really wasn’t a good look, so he stood a little straighter.
“Can I be honest, Chef? Nothing happened. We were exhausted. The storm took everything we had. We sat on her bed because Atlas had finally gone to sleep and there was nowhere else to sit, and we crashed, fully clothed, both of us, and that is the entire story of how you found us.”
“But you were here.”
“Because she said she’d be alone and…” Did that make Marcel look bad? “I thought it was smart to…”
He shook his head. “I was wrangled into that faculty job, and she assured me she would be safe.” Again, begrudging respect and maybe a little subtext of his own apology. “But I came home not knowing you would be here, not knowing my daughter was your employee, and not knowing that the man I had personally warned to keep his distance from her had moved into her room in my absence. That is the part of which I do not approve.”
“Fair.”
Marcel looked at him. “That’s all on her, not you.”
Even more fair, Jonah thought, but carefully did not say.
“You did a man’s work on that door. I owe you for it. I do not, however, owe you my daughter. But I owe you for the door.”
Jonah breathed out for what felt like the first time in twenty minutes.
“Chef. Can I say a thing?”
“You will, regardless.”
“I have been trying to figure out why you don’t like me. Since the day you talked to me at The Grind. Will you tell me?”
Marcel stared at him, silent, so Jonah dove in deeper.
