Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
My cheeks warm further. Marc is sweet and kind—not to mention hot as hell—and I sure wouldn’t mind a little action on the side with him.
“How long have you been a chef?” I ask.
“Just a couple years. I was lucky to get this gig. Katie’s Jamaican, so she was working over on the mainland when she was called for this event, and she recommended me. It’s been fun working with her again.”
“Just working?” I can’t help asking.
He chuckles. “Just working. Katie’s in a relationship now.” He kneels back down to look at my leg.
“Will I live?”
“Not only will you live”—he strokes the skin just under my wound, sending chills through me—“I think your legs will be prettier than ever.”
A jolt of pleasure shoots through me at his words. “I never knew wound care was part of a chef’s service.”
He smiles. “Only for our most esteemed guests.”
“Damsels in distress who are klutzes in the kitchen?” I return his smile.
“Only adorable klutzes.” He strokes my calf once more.
I’m warm all over, and Marc grabs both my hands, his full lips parted.
Oh my God… He’s going to kiss me.
I want him to kiss me.
Except I didn’t come here to—
A knock on the door and then it opens.
I gulp. Sebastian stands, his frame large in the doorway, holding a glass of ice water.
Marc jerks into a stand. “She’s going to be fine. I got her all cleaned and bandaged. The cut was shallow, and she’s a good clotter.”
Sebastian raises his eyebrows. “That so?”
“Uh…yeah.” Marc heads to the doorway. “I’d better get back to the kitchen. Those shrimps won’t sauté themselves.”
Sebastian kneels next to me and hands me the glass of water. “Everything okay now?”
“Sure.” I nod.
But a strange feeling of guilt washes over me, as if I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
EPISODE 100
CLAWS AND EFFECT
River
So much for me no longer being a buzzkill. All I can think of is the lawsuit waiting to happen first from Rachel and now from Ariel.
They all signed contracts, and we’re well insured, but still…
How is this even happening?
I look over at Misty and Emily’s station. Misty’s influence is destructive. What are the odds her partner could be behind such an accident? But Emily was the one who knocked the glass bowl of shrimp off the counter. She’s the one who caused Ariel to get hurt. Could it all truly be one big coincidence?
I get that Evangeline wanted to get everyone’s mind off Rachel’s accident yesterday and Sienna’s departure today, but damn… Ariel wouldn’t be injured if we’d stayed the hell out of the kitchen.
June chatters on, never missing a chance to slide her hand over my arm or shoulder. Sometimes right on my chest, since I’m shirtless. I can take care of that, at least. I walk to the pantry where several aprons hang and put one on over my head, tying it in the back. I return to my station.
June frowns. “Such a shame to cover you up, River.”
I say nothing. Desi has taken the jerk chicken outside to the grill. When he returns, we’ll begin the grilled lobster. A large stockpot is already on the stove, and the water is boiling.
Despite my better judgment, I glance toward Emily.
Her face is tense. The feminine curve of her cheekbones seems more angular and rigid. She avoids making eye contact with anyone. Every now and then, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her discomfort is palpable, and part of me longs to go to her, to offer her comfort.
But approaching Emily also means approaching Misty, and I’d prefer to stay as far away from her as possible.
I’m saved when Desi returns from the grill. A wide smile splits his face. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asks.
“To get to the other side, of course!” June laughs and fondles Desi’s arm this time.
“Wrong, Miss June. To get to your plate!”
I stop my eyes from rolling.
“Who’s ready for lobster?” Desi asks, picking up one of the live lobsters and pretending to claw June with it.
She giggles, and then Desi plunges it into the stockpot.
The crustacean lets out a high hiss as it hits the boiling water, and June hides her head against my chest. “I love lobster, but I hate this part.”
I wrap my arms around her, offering her some comfort, though the woman I wish I could comfort is Emily.
“Don’t worry, pretty lady,” Desi says. “They don’t feel a thing.”
June peeks back at Desi. “I think I’ll leave the dunking to you and River.”
After a few seconds, Desi pulls the lobster—bright red now—out with tongs and puts it in a bath of ice water.
June excuses herself for a moment.
“I guess it’s just you and me,” I say.
“I’ll take care of the lobsters.” Desi grabs another and places it in the boiling water. “It only takes a moment because they’ll cook fully later on the grill. If you want to take a break and make sure she’s okay, be my guest.”