I’m the first to arrive at the restaurant and somehow manage to carry in all the bags and flowers from the market in one trip. I lift everything onto the stainless-steel counter and quickly head to the docking station and turn on some music. In preparation for dinner, I clean the kitchen before making my way into the office. There I find that I need to call my main food and wine vendors.

My desk is littered with notes asking if I have ordered this or that. A few notes state they need pounds of chocolate, butter, whiskey, and Cab.

Calla,

We didn’t receive the three cases of Cab we ordered on Tuesday. Can you call? We need them today.

Adam

Why didn’t they call me yesterday and tell me they needed all this? I toss my hands up in frustration. Taking a seat, I pull out my laptop and place it on the docking station before rifling around my desk for the office phone.

The first three calls proceed smoothly, and my mood lifts. In between calls, I take a few minutes to find ESPN on my computer and listen to the pre-game commentators and their predictions. Dialing Adam’s wine vendor, I drum my fingers on the desk as I wait for someone to answer. I try calling the wine vendor three times before finally getting ahold of someone.

“Joe, it’s Calla. Adam left me a note that three boxes of Cab didn’t arrive yesterday. Will someone be able to deliver those today?”

“Calla, we delivered everything that was ordered.”

“Joe, I’m looking at the invoice, and what is checked off by your driver. Even he wrote down that he only had one of the four cases we ordered.”

“Well, I don’t have anything stating that, so until I do, I’m not having anything delivered.”

“Joe, I’m not going to pay for the cases we didn’t receive. And I’ll be honest, I’m going to have Adam start looking for a different vendor if we’re going to continue to have these kinds of issues with you.”

“I don’t think Adam will find a better deal than what we give you, but he’s more than welcome to try. That said, you still need to pay for those cases.”

“We’ll agree to disagree on that. I’ll send this invoice, along with your driver's notes, to the home office and see what they say,” I retort before disconnecting.

I huff out a long breath.

“This is going to be a close game tonight. Bond might have his work cut out for him against Watt next week if he keeps playing like this,” the analyst remarks.

“Ben always has issues when it comes to J.J.! He needs to pull his head out of his ass!” I mutter, walking out of the office.

Making my way over to where the bags from the farmers market lay on the prep table, I pull out the package the chef gave me and set it aside then finish emptying the bags and placing the food on the different station counters for my kitchen staff. On my way into the dining room, I grab the flowers, taking them to the bar for Nessa.

Returning to the kitchen, I pick up the package the chef from the market had chased me down to give me. Taking the brown paper package over to my workstation, I unwrap the butcher paper and blink twice in surprise at all the prawns and shrimp. By my estimation, there is more than the four pounds I’d originally asked for.

Wrapping the crustaceans back up, I move to the sink, picking up a pot on my way. I fill the pot and slowly carry it back to the stove to start the water boiling. Walking back to my counter, I pull out my knives, opening the case in search of my paring knife and shears. With my tools assembled on the table, I grab two bowls from under the counter and place them next to the mix of shrimp and prawns. Then I unwrap the butcher paper once more and get to work peeling and deveining the crustaceans.

A little over an hour passes as I peel and devein both the shrimp and prawns. I trash the waste as I head toward the office where Wes, Trey, and I have set up a little makeshift herb garden. I break off some of the herbs I want to try in the concoction before walking over to counter I’d left the butternut squash on.

“I’m glad I picked up two of these bad boys,” I say out loud to myself.

I take everything back to my area and pull out my knives again. This time, I pick out a larger one before closing the bag and placing it back under my table. Adele’s voice pours out of the speakers, and I start singing along with her as I sharpen my knives. I’m completely absorbed in the music and cutting the squash.

“So this is what you do when no one's here?” Adam chuckles.

I jump and scream.

He stands in the doorway dressed in his black pin-striped pants and a French blue button-up shirt.

“Fuck!” I scream when the knife nicks my finger because I’m not paying attention to what I’m doing.

Adam rushes over, taking my hand in his and inspecting the cut. He drags me over to the sink and washes my injured finger.

“It's not deep. Use the iodine then let’s get the first aid kit from the office. I’m pretty sure it just nicked me,” I tell him, wincing.

“Nessa!” Adam calls out.

The kitchen door swings open, and Nessa walks in with Wes and Trey.

“Will one of you go get the first aid kit please? I startled Calla while she was cutting the butternut squash, and she cut herself,” Adam says then focuses back on me. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Hey, I was just working. You’re the one that scared the fuck out of me!” I crack up laughing, and Adam joins in.

Nessa brings over the first aid kit and helps Adam finish cleaning and bandaging my finger.

Trey and Wes bustle around my workstation not saying anything, but each one glances over in my general direction as they work.

“We cleaned your knife and threw out the food that was near the blood. There wasn’t much of it, so whatever you're up to, you should still have plenty of food to work with,” Wes informs me as he heads into the office to get a few things done.

“Would you like some help with that?” Trey points over his shoulder at my prep area.

“That would be great. I still have a few things to finish before the staff arrive.”

“Tell me what you need,” Trey says, as we walk back to where I’d been working on the squash.

“Adam, I need to talk to you while we work on this recipe.” I pick up my knife again. “Trey, can you start cutting that second squash too? Then we need onion and garlic.”

“What are you concocting?” Trey asks.

“A butternut squash alfredo with grilled prawns and shrimp. Oh, I want baby bellas in it too. We still have some, don’t we?”

“Yes, they’re in the fridge.”

“Cool.” I finish cutting my squash into chunks. “So Adam, I called Joe, and he said we have all the Cab we ordered. He didn’t want to listen to the fact that even his delivery person said we were missing three cases. I need you to start looking for a new vendor. I’ll email the main office, but I’m not dealing with Joe anymore. He’s an ass, and I’m done. I already told him we’re not paying for the cases we didn’t receive.”

“I already started looking this morning,” Adam informs me. “I have it narrowed down to three different ones. Do you want to look at everything?”

“Nope, it’s your call.” I glance up just in time to register the shock on his face.

“Calla, are you sure?” he questions, shifting from foot to foot.

“Yes. The bar is yours. The only thing you might want to think about is asking Rex who his suppliers are.”

Adam pulls his phone out of his breast pocket and starts dialing as he heads out of the kitchen.

“What happened this morning?” Trey asks me as he finishes the squash he was working on.

“I’ll tell you later. I want to finish this and get dinner started for the meeting. At least cooking is distracting me from the commentators discussing Ben facing J.J. next Sunday. Their last game was ugly.”

“Don’t remind me,” Trey sighs.

Once the prep work is complete, Trey takes a back seat for most of the cooking, leaning back against the prep table and watching me work. I keep twitching, the back of my neck prickling from the awareness of someone watching so closely. Trying to ignore Trey is difficult, until he turns off the music and turns on Sports Center. Before long, talk of the game catches our attention, and we both start yelling over the announcers.

“What the fuck? He’s been throwing like shit!” Trey roars.

“Right!” I scream over him.

“What’s going on?” Wes demands, and I spin around.

I finally notice that he is in his Cowboys t-shirt and ass-hugging jeans. My mouth waters.

He’s not interested, or he wouldn’t have set you up with Torrance all those years ago.

“Tonight's game! And Calla’s not letting me do anything more than prep work.” Trey crosses his arms over his chest. “Granted, watching her fine ass move around the kitchen is hot. But, I want to get my hands on something.” He winks at me.

“Didn’t think you saw Calla like that,” Wes bristles.

“Well, until about ten minutes ago, you’d be right. But the ass shake she just did while making that heavenly smell is doing strange things to me. Did you know she dances around the kitchen, or at least swishes her hips, when she’s happy? I don’t think I’ve ever even noticed that before.”

“Hey Trey, can you start the grill? I need to cook the shrimp and prawns, and this is almost done,” I interrupt.

“You got it, cutie.” He grabs the bowl filled with the seafood and heads for the grill.

“Thanks, Trey.” I turn on Wes. “I’ve had a shitty day, so whatever has you in this grumpy mood, can we deal with it after I finish cooking? I think this is actually going to turn out the way I envision.”

Wes moves closer, stopping once he reaches the metal counter between us.

“It does smell wonderful, Calla. Is there anything I can help with?” he asks. The edge that had been in his voice with Trey is now gone.

“Yeah, can you get out the bowls? I need to put the pasta on.”

“You got it.”

I place two big, white pasta bowls in the middle of the round table that is beginning to fill with the main kitchen staff, along with Adam, Nessa, Trey, and Wes. Wes sits first, taking the chair to my left. Wes does this at every meeting. It’s beginning to feel like some unwritten rule that only he can have that seat. Granted, Adam and Trey trade off as to who takes the chair to my right. Today it is Adam, and Nessa slides in next to him, leaving Trey next to Wes. With his Houston t-shirt on display, Trey is getting evil glances from Adam, Nessa, and Wes. The last two remaining chairs are quickly filled. The seat next to Trey is taken by Forest, our pastry chef who just got back from vacation, and the other by Nick, the lead sauté chef. Plates are passed around the table, as is the pasta, followed by the butternut squash alfredo, and the grilled prawns and shrimp.

In my periphery, I notice Trey nonchalantly pass part of a newspaper to Wes. Wes unfolds the paper, is quiet for a few seconds, sucks in a breath, and slams his fist on the table. Everyone at the table shifts to face him.

“Calla, have you seen this?” Wes shakes the paper at me.

“Is that the one Torrance’s friend wrote?” I roll my eyes.

Wes hands me the review before taking a bite of his food, watching me as I read. My jaw drops halfway through, and I glance up to find everyone at the table holding their breath and staring wide-eyed at me. Adam looks back and forth between Trey and Wes for answers.

“What is it?” Adam asks.

“A new review on Calla's cooking,” Trey responds before taking his first bite of the pasta.

“It's that bad?” Nessa wonders, adding fettuccini to her plate.

Wes takes the review out of my hands.

“It seems Belladonna's head chef and owner, Calla Bond, is not cooking to her full potential. Will Belladonna last past the dreaded two-year mark, or will the pressure get to Calla?” Wes holds my hand as he reads.

Wes lays the review on the table and rubs the top of my hand before taking a drink and finishing his meal. Everyone watches and follows Wes's lead to finish their dinner. We all sit in silence for about twenty minutes. The clanking of silverware is the only noise. Eventually, Wes nods to Adam, and he begins the next conversation they want to hit me with.

“Calla, there's something the guys and I would like to talk to you about,” Adam breaks the silence.

I look up, giving Adam my full attention.

“How do I say this?” He sits up straight and reaches for Nessa.

“Spit it out, Adam. What the hell are you trying to tell Calla?” Nessa places her napkin on the table and turns toward him.

He pauses, and I shoot him a questioning glance.

“A little help here please,” he implores to the guys.

“What Adam is trying to say is that, maybe we should think about changing the menu?” Trey says tentatively, taking over the discussion.

I blink a few times, taking in what the guys are asking. I turn to Wes, and he smiles at me in agreement.

“Um, guys… We already discussed changing things yesterday, so I’m not sure why we’re talking about it like this is a new topic. I’m ready to make big changes around here.”

“Calla, we need to get Torrance out of the menu. He's why we keep getting these shitty reviews.” Wes glances down at his almost empty plate and back at me. “We need more comfort food like this on the menu. Damn woman, this is delicious!”

Everyone chuckles. I smile slightly and slowly push my chair out and stand.

“Duh, if I could burn Torrance out of this place I would, but I like the location, and I don’t want to go to jail for arson. So, yes! Changes, across the board, need to happen.” Picking up my dishes, I head away from the table. “Goof balls, I thought I made that clear.”

“That went better than I thought it would,” Wes mutters, almost out of my hearing.

Everyone at the table follows my lead, cleaning their dishes and heading to the kitchen.