CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bee
'd driven the rest of the way back to my shop in a carefully dead haze. Unwilling to even think about Finn and Jackson waiting for me there. Studiously avoiding the thought of them greeting me with their smiles — Finn's arrogant, eager one, Jackson's slow, dangerous one. I didn't think about their bodies, the way they were both so large they seemed to fill up the entire space of my shop so there was no way I could escape the heat that rose from their skin, or the mingled scent of them — Jackson smelling clean and fresh and of the herbs he used in cooking, Finn with a surprisingly dark, woodsy scent that I could somehow taste as well as smell.
I was so careful not to think at all that it took me several stupefied minutes of standing in the middle of my locked, empty shop to realize what was wrong.
"What the fuck?" I gasped as I stared at the empty shelves.
All of them. All the cupcakes I'd slaved over, frosting each one by hand. All of the honey buns, painstakingly glazed when they were the precise temperature to allow it to melt into that first crisp layer of sugar. All of the scones, kneaded by hand so the dough wouldn't get overworked. All of the cookies, timed precisely so the bottoms would get that perfectly caramelized crust.
They were all gone.
Every single one.
"What the fuck?!" I shouted into the empty shop. I whirled around as if the tables would give me an explanation. I'd been raided, completely cleaned out. I'd trusted these guys and they'd completely fucked me over.
I sank against my display case, hating them, but more, hating myself. My mother was right, I wasn't cut out to be on my own. That was why I needed someone to take care of me. First my parents, then Zach, gotta take care of Beatrix, her pretty little head can't handle the real world.
It was one thing to hear her say it, it was another thing to realize she'd been right.
"No," I said firmly. "I can do this."
I marched to the door and flung it open, then went careening towards their half-finished restaurant with my blood thudding in my ears.
I slammed their door open and pushed my way through the plastic sheeting that hung in the entryway. "Finn!" I shouted. "Jackson?"
Jackson emerged from the kitchen as if he'd been waiting for me. For a moment I was paralyzed by the sight of him in his immaculate chef's whites, his tanned, almost olive skin set off by the blazing white. He brushed his hair back from his face and treated me to that slow, dangerous smile. "Hi Bee," he said.
Fresh rage flooded my system with adrenaline. "What the hell did you do?" I yelled rushing up and stabbing him in the chest with my finger. "I should call the goddamn police."
Jackson looked down to where my finger was stabbing in the center of his chest, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something decidedly unsettling. I snatched my hand away like I was scalded, and glared at him.
"What happened to my inventory? What did you do?" He was still grinning that slanted grin that made me feel woozy. I shook my head. "You have five seconds to start talking," I told him firmly.
He grinned and I saw him tremble a little with laughter as he held up his hand. "One," he counted, holding up his fingers one at a time. "Two, three, four..."
"Are you mocking me?" I shouted.
"I sold them," he replied, then finished counting with a grin. "Five."
I froze. "How the hell...?" I whispered.
"Or rather," he gestured to where Finn was emerging from the kitchen. "We did."
Finn grinned proudly. "Did you check your register?" he asked. "Because you really need to make a drop, and I didn't know where you banked."
I stared at them open mouthed, utterly dumbfounded. All of my stock? That was enough for the next two days with plenty extra. "How did you do that?" I gasped.
Jackson smiled again, wider. "I can be very persuasive," he told me, letting his eyes drop down to my lips before bouncing back to my eyes.
I shivered and stepped backwards. But that only brought me closer to Finn, who was close behind me. Close. So close.
The rage that had been coursing through my system melted away. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than to sit down. "Wow," was all I could say. I inhaled sharply, ready to apologize...
Then I lifted my head in wonder. "Wow," I said again, sniffing some more. "It smells amazing in here."
Finn brushed his hand lightly over my arm as he moved into my line of sight. My skin prickled, as if reaching for him, and I rubbed my arms briskly to brush away the goosebumps that marched up my arm where he touched it.
"You should stay for dinner," he said. "It's on the house."
I gaped at him as he guided me back towards a tall, private booth in the back. It was right near the kitchen and looked like it had been installed that day. "Sit," he directed, then licked his lips, catching himself. "Please," he added.
"You're awfully bossy," I teased.
"You have no idea," Jackson sighed with a world-weary eyeroll.
Finn shot a look over to Jackson. "Jacky-boy here has come up with a menu," he said.
"And I want you to tell me what you think," Jackson finished, looking me dead in the eye. "Can you do that?"
"Uh..." I looked at both their faces, watching me so intently. Something had changed, I could feel it though I couldn't put it into words. It was like some door that had been locked was now flung open. Both of them were staring at me with frank, undisguised lust and the effect was dizzying. I collapsed back down on the booth.
Jackson grinned. "Great," he said when he saw me sit. "I'll bring out the first course."
Finn slid into the seat across from me. "I want you to tell me what you think as well," he said in a low voice. "Don't worry if you don't like something, you can be honest with me."
"Uh, okay?" I squeaked.
Jackson emerged from the kitchen with a small plate in his hand. He gave a sharp look at Finn sitting across from me, and then set the plate down. "Heirloom eggplant," he explained. "Poached in Thai spices and topped with burnt sugar."
I tapped my fork against the crisp sugar top. "Almost like a crème brûlée?" I ventured.
He grinned. "Exactly."
I lifted my fork. It was a small slice, only the size of a Communion wafer, but when it hit my tongue it was anything but that bland piece of carboard. It fairly exploded on my tongue, a sweet and spicy firecracker with the crunchy, sugary crust balancing out the meltingly soft eggplant.
I widened my eyes. "Is this for real?" I mumbled dumbly
Jackson nodded, apparently pleased, and headed back into the kitchen. But I sat back in the booth, still dumbstruck.
This was the kind of cooking I'd never even considered before. This was cooking as art.
"Wow," I muttered. Was I surprised? Yes. Should I have been?
I didn't even know any more.
Jackson reemerged with another small plate. "Second course," he explained, setting it front of me. "Deconstructed sushi. Wild fish roe with flakes of seaweed and cucumber. "
"That's rice paper it's wrapped it. " Finn explained as I squinted at the little pocket. "Jackson's take on ravioli, I call it."
"How do I eat it?" I asked, squinting.
"However you want," Jackson said encouragingly.
I looked around but there was no one in the empty restaurant to mimic. And there was definitely no mother's voice in my ear hissing at me that I was breaking every rule of etiquette.
I was free to reach out with my fingers and scoop up the delicate little package.
After the explosion of the eggplant, this was a gentle little song on my tongue. The flavors were both mild and complex, but not weird. I found myself smiling like I was in on some great joke. "Wow," I grinned.
Finn nodded. "I know."
"You need something to drink," Jackson noted.
Finn nodded. "The Jasper Hill dry Riesling. It's good paired with anything. Really bright on the palate."
Jackson nodded again and disappeared into the kitchen once more.
"How long have you two known each other?" I asked Finn.
Finn grew thoughtful. "We've known of each other for almost ten years, but things sort of... snowballed recently. " He gave a rueful grin. "We were friends until I knew what he was capable of. And then I knew I had to work with him. He kept that part hidden."
"Why?"
"Who knows? He holds his cards close to his chest. His real expression is through his cooking, I think. That's where he busts loose."
I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, eager to sop up any remaining flavor. "I guess so." I looked at him with my head cocked to the side. "What about you?"
He shrugged. "Not much to say. I spent years at a desk feeling my soul sucked out through my nose. I'm good at numbers and good at turning money into more money. But I was tired of doing that for other people." He grimaced a little. "I know it makes me sound like an asshole when I say this, but I was tired of not being able to fly as high as I knew I could because other people kept my wings clipped." His eyes twinkled. "You know the saying. If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself."
Boy did I understand that. "So you decided to open a restaurant?" I asked. "That's a switch from working a desk job."
"There was this disconnect. Jackson and I both felt it. I wanted to build something but I was stuck working with these intangibles. Just numbers on a computer to show for a day's work." He ran his fingers over the top of the wooden booth. You can't get much more real than food."
I grinned. "Sounds familiar. I know."
"So when his..." He swallowed and caught himself. "When the opportunity arose, I went to him and said we should build a restaurant together. Whatever he wanted. 'Your vision,' I told him. 'You take care of the menu and I'll get the customers.'" He laughed ruefully. "I really did think it was that easy. I'd worked with money all my life, I made it appear out of thin air. How hard could it be?"
I couldn't help but laugh and he shot me a wry look. "Yeah," he said. "I know. Turns out it's really fucking hard. And when you're doing this kind of cooking in a small town like this, you need to really sell yourself. And I'm afraid I'm not doing that. He's holding up his end of the bargain, but I'm failing at mine."
I pursed my lips in thought, about to comment when Jackson came out again, bearing something that looked more like sculpture than food.
"Oh shit," Finn laughed, rubbing his hands together. "He's giving you the test dish. He must trust you."
"The what?"
I looked up at Jackson for explanation, but he only shrugged. "You don't use your hands," he said.
"That's crazy," I giggled, looking at the strange contraption in front of me.
"I told you he was a genius," Finn clarified. "But I never claimed he was right in the head." He looked up at Jackson. "Hey where's the wine?"
"I couldn't find it," Jackson shrugged.
Finn pursed his lips. "Weird. I just entered it into inventory this morning." He shrugged and turned to me. "Ah well, I'll grab something in a minute. You eat."
"Bossy," I chided him.
"Yep," he grinned.
I looked down at my plate. If you could call it that. It was a skinny rod rising at an angle from a heavy wooden base. Upon it was speared a sliver of salmon topped with foam that smelled like pineapple whipped up to look like the crest of a wave. It bobbed gently in front of me, as if waiting for me to muster up the courage.
I looked at Finn who could barely contain his laughter.
Then I looked up at Jackson. He was watching with his arms folded over his broad chest. Almost as if he was holding himself... or holding himself back. I felt a downward rush because I knew why he was watching, and I knew what it looked like I was about to do. I looked back at Finn, and his tongue darted to the corner of his mouth a second. "Bon appétit," he murmured.
I leaned forward and opened my mouth. There was nothing to do but slide my lips over the strip of salmon, enveloping the whole bite in my mouth at once.
Was it my imagination, or did I just hear Jackson's sharp intake of breath as my lips closed? Or was it Finn who was watching me with flashing blue eyes?
I slid my mouth back up along the skewer, and pressed my fingers to my lips. The pink strip of flesh was every bit as salty, sweet and savory as I expected, but the act of putting it in my mouth like that... as they both watched. It was unsettling and somehow sinful.
"I want more," I blurted suddenly.
Jackson nodded. "I'll get you dessert."