Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Most fresh-out-of-school culinary students start at holes in the wall or chain restaurants. It's supposed to be a build up to this, and yet, here I am.
Daniel lets her eyes drift to mine, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “If you need anything, just let me know.” The door swings shut as she walks back into the dining room, leaving me alone with this crocodile of a human being.
“So,” Cheryl says as she picks up the knife and goes back to chopping stalks of celery, “I never thought I'd see you here. When did you get hired?”
“I applied a couple weeks ago and got the call to start two days ago.” I pull a menu from the stack, leaning against the counter, and begin to read through it.
“Well, Monroe and I go way back. I started here as a waitress two years ago. Then, after I got my culinary degree, Monroe bumped me up to sous chef. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll keep your degree in mind, but I highly doubt he's going to let you cook. He's very particular, and I know exactly what he's looking for. I'm sure you'll do fine with the customers, just make sure you smile when you take their orders.”
“Oh, I'm not here as a waitress, I'm a chef too,” I answer casually with my eyes still down on the menu. Surprise, I think to myself, keeping the teasing that's itching on my face in check.
I hear her knife stop, causing me to look up at her. Her eyes are wide, and she's glaring at me like I just insulted her. Her jaw is tight, and slightly crooked to one side. Thick lines crease her forehead, and her brows fold in.
As quickly as the expression is there, it's gone. She simply drops her eyes back to the celery and begins to chop again. “Well, I hope you know that Monroe has standards. He has expectations that I'm not sure you're ready for. If you disappoint him, he'll fire you on a dime. So, don't look to me to save your ass. We're not a team.”
“If I wasn't ready, I wouldn't be here.” Tilting my head, I give her a smug grin. “Maybe he sees something in me he's not getting from you, and that's why I'm here.”
She laughs out loud, her knife coming down on the cutting board with a loud snap. “Now that's a lie if I ever heard one. I'm here because I can cook. You're the one who's going to have to prove themselves. Not me.”
We're not teenagers in high school anymore. We're not even in college anymore. This is my career, and I'm readier than I've ever been. It's time to use my skills and do what I'm trained to. Cook.
She's not entirely wrong.
I know I shouldn't be in this position considering I'm a new graduate. Yet for some reason, I'm here, and I'm not going to let this opportunity go to waste. She can badger me all she wants; I'm not going to let her get to me. I'm going to prove her wrong. I belong here just as much as she does.
“Okay, I read the menu.” I slip it back in the rack and look around. “So, what can I do to help? Can I prep something.”
“Yeah, I don't think—”
A door slams in the back, cutting her off, and a man comes around the corner. He drops a box of sweet potatoes on the counter and places his hands on his hips as he looks up at me.
“You can start prepping the lobster bisque.”
Oh my lord. My lungs freeze, and my heart starts to pound instantly.
I've heard about Monroe Martisse. I've heard he's tough. I've heard his standards are high for his food. I also heard he's drop dead gorgeous. I can honestly say now that the rumors do no justice.
He's hot as hell. Dark brown hair is tousled on his head to perfection. He has high cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw that looks so sharp it could cut diamonds. His skin is smooth, and his eyes are light brown, almost gold under the lights. His forearms are both fully covered in ink, the designs dripping down to the tops his hands.
He folds his arms over his chest and lifts his head higher. Massive muscles pop and thicken as he flexes. “Or is that too much for you?” he asks, his voice husky and deep, sending a chill up my spine.
I can feel a lump forming in throat as my stomach starts to swirl. “No, no, not at all. I can do it. Not a problem.”
“Good, then let’s get on it. We'll have customers to feed soon.” He goes back down the small hall, disappearing into the back.
Cheryl has a smirk on her face as she shakes her head and goes back to chopping. “I'd wish you good luck, but we both know it isn't on your side.”