Page 13 of Burning Rivalry

The short drive passed quickly, my thoughts on what I wanted to do once I reached the kitchen. I’d been toying with the idea of a deconstructed cobbler lately, or maybe a play on tiramisu. Something that wouldn’t deviate too far from Sebastian’s original concept. I could fill dessert cups with the mascarpone mixture, add ladyfingers on top, maybe pour an espresso and amaretto syrup over the top…

Few things could slow me down on my way through the locked door behind the restaurant’s kitchen, but a call from my best friend was one of them. I paused beside a stack of empty milk crates and answered, “Hadley, my love,” I sighed, searching for the right key on the heavy ring I carried.

“Claudia, my love,” she chirped. Her cheerful voice reminded me of everything I’d left behind by fleeing the East Coast. “How did your interview go?”

“Ugh.” I settled for leaving it there while unlocking the back door, deactivating the alarm, and flipping on the lights. Nothing compares to a sparkling, quiet kitchen. It felt as calming as stepping into a spa.

“I’m sorry. But hey, it’s all part of being a star.” Her comically breathless voice pulled a laugh out of me even when I was determined to be annoyed.

“All she wanted to talk about was working with you-know-who.” I was afraid to say his name. What if I summoned him somehow? Like a demon or something.

She knew all about him thanks to our many conversations, which was why she surprised me by countering, “Come on. Don’t tell me it’s not at least a little bit fun working with somebody like him.”

“There are millions of hot men in the world, Hadley,” I muttered, shaking my head as I pulled out ingredients for ladyfingers. Maybe I’d add cocoa powder to them, eliminate the amaretto factor…

“Sure, but are they all rich? Famous? Right in front of you all the time?” When I only groaned, she kept going. “All I can do is imagine you two in close quarters, sweating it out. There’s a million customers waiting for their food, and you have to work together to keep them all happy. Then all of a sudden, your eyes meet as your hands brush, and you realize what a great team you make.”

That sounded nice. I sort of hated how nice it sounded. “If only it were that easy,” I murmured, distracted by the mental image of Sebastian staring into my eyes, realizing what a good team we made. He was gorgeous—stormy gray eyes and a jawline I both wanted and wanted to punch. I was only human.

“So that’s what you want to happen?” Hadley teased.

Whoa. Time to tune back into the conversation. “No, but it would be nice if there weren’t so much antagonism between us all the time,” I admitted while separating eggs, adding the whites to a mixing bowl. I could use the yolks in the filling…

“Ooh, tension,” she whispered, giggling.

“Not the kind you’re thinking about,” I insisted.

“Oh, come on.” She groaned like I had truly broken her heart. “Don’t destroy my fantasies here. You mean to tell me it’s not like that at all?”

Everything I wanted to unload on that interviewer came rushing to the surface. I could only hold back for so long, and my friendship with Hadley was my safe place—the only safe place left in my life. “He’s ignorant. He’s arrogant. And he is so ridiculously afraid of change, making it impossible for me to function. I can’t do anything new, I swear. Everything has to stay exactly the same. Anybody could do this job.”

One silent beat after another passed before she deadpanned, “Explain to me what the problem is because I’m not getting it.”

“I’m starting to think you’re deliberately not getting it.”

“I’m not interested in him that way,” I insisted, raising my voice over her soft disagreement and the whirring of the mixer as I beat the egg whites. “I was really, really hoping this position would lead to bigger things. How can it possibly lead to bigger things if all he wants me to do is recreate the same tired recipes week in and week out? They’re not even recipes I developed, for God’s sake,” I added with a bitter laugh, turning toward the prep table to measure flour. “And when I try to make a small change, he acts like I squatted on the prep table and pissed all over everything.” I slapped a hand against the prep table for emphasis, sending bits of flour flying. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d made a mess out of myself.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t joke like that,” she admitted, sounding regretful now that I had unloaded on her. “What can we do about this?” One thing I loved about her was the way she could turn things around.

“We can’t do anything. Only I can, and I don’t know what.” With a sigh, I added, “You know I love you for saying it that way. “

“Hey. There’s never been anything we haven’t been able to do together once we combine our ridiculous intelligence and creativity.” She had never lacked confidence.

“I wish I had been half as intelligent as you back when you were telling me to kick Brandon to the curb.” No amount of gently folding flour into the egg whites could calm the bitterness that always rose to the surface when his stupid face came to mind—that little-boy smile, the innocence he so easily faked.

“Yeah, you really don’t know how challenging it was not to smack you upside the head sometimes.” She paused, then added, “I saw him yesterday. He asked me about you.”

“He didn’t have the balls,” I growled.

“You’re surprised at his ballsiness after all this?” she asked while I muttered ten different kinds of ugliness under my breath. “He knew I would tell you, which is why he did it. And here I am, playing into his hand.”

There was one question that rang out in the forefront of my mind right away. “How did he look?”

Her low, wicked laughter answered the question before she said a word. “Like hell.”

“You’re just saying that.” Of course, I had to add, “Tell me more.”

She giggled before it burst out of her. “Oh my God, I’ve been dying to tell you. Were you the only person in that relationship who knew how to use an iron? Because his clothes were all wrinkled, he needs a haircut, and I’m pretty sure he misplaced his razor because he was rocking at least four days of stubble.”