Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I have something for you.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sydney
I wasn’t sure I wanted to turn and face Preston, but his statement left me with no choice. I slowly pivoted in my spot, dragging out the moment before I’d lay my gaze on him.
He didn’t disappoint.
Preston wore a stone-gray button-down shirt, a black tie, and black slacks. It was the most dressed up I’d ever seen him, and everything about it was flawless. Not a single wrinkle marred his clothes nor was a hair out of place, and I wanted to groan at how good he looked, especially when I had to look like hot garbage.
My hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, but I was sure a bunch of flyaways had escaped from under my cap, creating awkward loops of hair by my ears. Whatever makeup I’d put on hours ago had been steamed off while cooking the ravioli and was now replaced with a thin layer of dried sweat. Stains and sauce splatters decorated the front of my jacket.
Why the hell did he stare at me like he didn’t notice any of it?
His eyes were intense, trailing over me like I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. It caused my heart to stop and breath to lock up in my lungs. The longing I’d been trying to hold back the last week flared wildly out of control, and I had to grip the edge of the stove to make sure my unsteady legs didn’t give out on me.
A voice inside my head reminded me I wasn’t weak. I’d spent the last three hours being in total command of this kitchen, and I’d fucking nailed this dinner. He was here on my turf, in the place where I felt the most confidence.
He’d told me he had something for me and was waiting for my response. I lifted my chin, along with my shoulders. “What is it?”
God, his smile was dazzling and cryptic. “It’s in the dining room. Follow me.”
It took everything to stand my ground and shake my head. “I can’t right now. I need to finish cleaning my station. Maybe when I’m done, you can—”
His face skewed. He hadn’t expected any push back. Then, his expression shifted, and he shrugged, as if saying fuck it. “Some of the guests want to meet the chef.”
“Oh.” I straightened as excitement and nerves mixed in my stomach. Were they wanting to give me a compliment . . . or a critique? I folded my washrag, set it on the side table, and wiped my damp hands down the sides of my jacket, before following Preston out through the door.
The dining room was dramatically different from when I’d walked through before service. The lights were low and soft music played, but it was barely discernible over the conversations of dozens of people seated at the tables and booths. Some stopped talking and turned their curious gazes toward me, but when the tall blonde woman pushed back in her seat and stood, everyone else in the room disappeared.
“Oh, my god,” I uttered.
When Colin said he couldn’t tell me who the client was, I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d figured it was someone who wanted their privacy. It had crossed my mind they could be a celebrity, but certainly not someone as freaking huge as Stella.
Her ruby red lips peeled back into a warm smile as she strolled toward me. “Sydney?”
Holy shit, she knew my name.
“Yes. I’m such a huge fan,” I gushed before she’d even reached me. “I tried to get tickets to your Heartsick tour, but by the time I made it through the queue they were sold out.”
She genuinely looked disappointed on my behalf. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But it turns out I’m a huge fan of you, too.”
“You are?” My brain no longer worked, and I couldn’t process what she meant. “Why?”
Her laugh was bright and infectious. “Your food was delicious, and when Preston told me the chef was a young woman, I wanted to meet you.”
“You ate my food?” My eyes went so wide, they had to be the same size as the dessert plates.
Beside me, Preston chuckled.
It was a stupid question, but thankfully she pretended it wasn’t. “I hosted this dinner tonight for my friends and family to celebrate the end of the tour. A ‘welcome home’ of sorts.” Her voice was like honey as she leaned closer, acting like we were old friends and not strangers. “I’m going to be here in Nashville while I’m working on my next album, which means I’m in the market for a personal chef.” Her gaze shifted to Preston before returning to me. “He mentioned that was your dream job.”
I went breathless. He'd talked me up to her? I worried I was going to melt, or spontaneously combust, or do both at the same time.