CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Parker
“It is not always me,” Raven snaps. Something bangs from the other side of the door, and I’m guessing it was her fist against the bar.
“It’s generally you,” Ry replied.
“It’s not me! If he has a cactus up his ass about something, go fucking ask him. I’m his boss, not his keeper.” There was a pause. “I thought you were leaving.”
Scuffles and mumbles followed, then the door slammed shut.
I didn’t mean to listen, but they weren’t exactly quiet. In fact, I could barely remember a time they were able to be quiet.
I picked up the dish that needed washing and took it back out to Alex. He didn’t look at me as I dropped it on the side with a little too much force, and it was obvious he was avoiding making eye contact with me.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d been in a foul fucking mood since I’d left here last night. I’d slept like complete shit. I’d even paid the extortionate fee to the gym in an attempt to break out of the shell of frustration I was wrapped in. It hugged every inch of my body, except I couldn’t separate sexual frustration from plain ol’ annoyed frustration.
Raven had ruined me. One accidental kiss had become one deliberate one, and nothing I did could shake the memory of that. Nothing shook away the memory of her body pressed against mine or her mouth yielding to the pressure of my own.
By kissing her, I’d thrown myself into some kind of fucked-up, self-made torture.
I wanted more.
I wanted her mouth on my neck.
My chest.
My stomach.
My cock.
And I wanted her to tell me how much she fucking hated me while she did it. Because then I’d have justification for the anger I felt. I’d have a lie to feed myself.
I didn’t know when I’d stopped hating her, but it was recent. Somewhere between looking into her big, blue eyes and pinning her against the bar, I’d come to respect the woman she’d grown into. I’d come to respect her mind for business—her ruthlessness and accuracy in everything she did. Her creativity was second-to-none. I’d watched her create a cocktail out of absolute thin air.
Anyone who could pluck something so solid from nothing deserved respect.
More than that, I knew I respected her as a human being. I respected her strength and her vigor and her passion. Her snark and her stalwart approach to everything. I respected her control and her need for it.
I respected the woman she was, and that was something I never thought I’d do.
I wanted her, too, of course. Because of all those things. Because no matter how much she pissed me off, no matter how much the way she looked at me sometimes fucking grated on me, Raven Archer was one hell of a woman.
I wasn’t surprised by it, not really. She’d been a force as a child. It only made sense that she’d defy physics as an adult.
“Can you make the hummus?” I asked Alex, grabbing the order folder.
“Sure thing, Chef.”
I threw a thumbs up over my shoulder and, swallowing my feelings, stepped into the bar. Raven was standing behind it, her hair now pulled into a scruffy ponytail on top of her head, revealing the bright, white earphones that were in place in her ears. She hummed along to something that sounded suspiciously like Ed Sheeran.
Her hips swayed with it. She was wearing a plain, white tank with a floral skirt that moved with each flick of her hips. She’d changed from earlier, and I guessed she was ready for work, because the skirt had a thin, black belt that went around the waistband and it was a few inches shorter than should have been acceptable for working behind a bar.
Then again, I’d seen her work behind this thing, and she was the best damn tender I knew.
I put my finger and thumb in my mouth and let out a long, loud whistle.
Raven screamed, yanking the headphones from her ears and jumping back halfway across the bar. “What the fuck?” she shouted. “Are you stupid? I could have killed you.”
“Yeah, your scream was terrifying,” I said dryly, dropping the folder down on the bar. “I need you to check off this order and sign it before I can place it.”
She exhaled slowly and walked to me. “You could have announced yourself.”
“I did,” I lied. “You were too busy playing Shakira to Ed Sheeran. Nice humming, by the way.”
“Ugh.” She actually said the word as she took the folder from me. Her bright red nails flashed as she skimmed the sheets until she found today’s order. The tap of her nail against the paper as she placed it down was almost nails-down-a-chalkboard-sounding, but thankfully, she slid it down the list instead of tapping each item.
I leaned against the bar as she looked. The bar was due to open in a couple hours, and judging by the half-empty fridges, she wasn’t ready for opening at all.
“All right.” She grabbed a pen from the register and scrawled something that vaguely resembled ‘RA’ on the order sheet. “Go ahead and put that through.”
“Thanks. Aren’t you working today?”
Slowly, she dragged her eyes up my chest and face to meet my gaze. “Yes. I’m always working.”
“Never mind.” I held my hands up and stepped back. “Just, yeah. Never mind.”
Her tone was perfectly steady when she said, “You’re much safer in the kitchen, you know that?”
I barely glanced at her full, red lips before I grabbed the folder. “Yeah, I know.”
If only she knew how much fucking safer it was in there.
***
I was ten seconds away from losing my shit.
It was the first time I’d worked with Alex without Wes around, and it was blatantly fucking clear that Wes was the superior of the two. Alex was barely holding on his composure, judging by the sweat that was constantly beading on his forehead.
Don’t get me wrong—it was fucking hot in here. That was the nature of working in a kitchen. The amount of things that cooked at the same time was ridiculous, but it took a special person to handle the pressure. If I was honest, this felt like the vacation I’d intended to take when I’d come back to the Keys. Working in Dirty was so easy compared to working in New York.
Even the food was refreshing. Greek food was worlds away from the Steak and Seafood House I’d put on the map thanks to my skills. I’d given the restaurant the Michelin stars they’d long craved, but I wondered how long they’d keep that honor without me around.
For me, I’d always be Michelin-starred. Those three, shiny stars would always be mine. They were the legacy I’d worked so hard for, and that legacy didn’t include stressed-out halfwits who fucked up at the glimpse of pressure.
It didn’t include people like Alex.
“Where’s the fucking tzatkizi, Alex?” I yelled over the whirring of the fans.
“Give me ten minutes!”
“I don’t have ten fucking minutes. I need it five minutes ago.”
“It’s coming, Chef!”
“Defrost, now!” I snapped, draining vegetables and almost splashing myself with scalding hot water. “I don’t have time for this shit!”
Something clanged. “On it!”
I was on the edge.
“This was supposed to be made this afternoon!” I reminded him as I filled veg dishes and put them under the hot light. “I said we were getting low!”
Everything had to be shouted over the extractor fans. It made me seem just as angry as I was.
“I know, Chef. I’m defrosting now!” he shouted back. “How do I thicken it from the water?”
I pressed my fingers into my temple. “You don’t! You throw it the fuck out, Alex! Get me fucking fresh sauce four hours ago!”
Gordon Ramsay was my long lost uncle, if nobody guessed.
I was the first to admit that I wasn’t the most delightful person to work with. The pressures of the kitchen brought out the worst in a man, but when I asked for something to be done, I expected it to be fucking done.
When I asked. Not four hours ago.
“Ticket on!” Vicky called, walking into the kitchen and attaching a ticket to the board.
I spun and grabbed the one she’d left for me. “Vicky! Half hour wait,” I told her. “We’re running low on condiments. Tell them it’s demand.”
“Um, okay,” she said, her hand on the door. “Do I need to tell Raven?”
“Does she take food orders?”
“Um, yes.”
“Then yes, she needs to fucking know.” I slapped my ticket onto the board on my side. “No more orders for ten minutes.”
Vicky shuffled back to the door. “Okay.”
It slammed after her.
“Tzatkizi, Alex!” I shouted, slamming my hand against the countertop. If the steel material of the hotplate were any weaker, it would have likely shattered with the harshness of my hit.
As it was, it was a good shock absorber for my annoyance.
Tzatkizi sauce appeared in front of me without a word from Alex. He literally dumped the bowl and then left. I didn’t care—I just needed the sauce. I was almost certain he’d be fired tomorrow morning. I didn’t expect to or need to wait as long as I had for the sauce he’d assured me he’d made a few hours ago.
I hit the buzzer for Vicky to come and grab some food. She came in with three more meal tickets.
It was Monday in Whiskey Key.
What the fuck was going on?
“Raven,” I shouted across the kitchen before Vicky could leave. “I need her.”
“Sure.” Her voice carried over the noise and was followed by the slamming of the door.
I threw tomatoes into the frying pan and added zucchini. I was working on a side dish now I had the tzatkizi I needed, and all I could do was hope that Alex had read the tickets and was working on the others I needed.
“Raven’s busy,” Vicky said loudly, coming in with dirty dishes. “She asked me what you need.”
“I need her ass in here,” I replied without turning around.
“I’m not sure she can do that.”
“Make her.”
I had no time for excuses. I needed her here to talk to me and that was the end of it.
Vicky came and went three times before Raven made her way into the kitchen. When she did, it was in a cloud of anger and a tongue spitting with insults.
“What?” she yelled over the noise of the fans.
“Stop food,” I shouted back. “We’re too slammed.”
“There’s less than Friday!”
I turned in time to see her examining the tickets.
“Fuck me sideways,” she said. “You had twice the tickets last Friday. What’s going on?”
“Stop food,” I repeated, tugging down a ticket as I hit the buzzer for Vicky. She pulled the plates with towels and I said, “Table four. Five minutes ago.”
Vicky nodded as she turned.
Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t let your complexes out on her. She just runs your shit.”
“Watch your mouth,” I warned her, mixing a salad. With a metal spoon, I filled two salad bowls and passed them in Raven’s direction with the dressing on the side. “Thanks.”
She reached through the divide and hit the divide.
“Table eight,” I told Vicky when she grabbed them.
Raven waited until the door shut. “Don’t tell me what to do again.” Her voice was like ice as it sliced through the air between us.
“You’re in my kitchen, hotshot.”
“I don’t give a fuck. If you think I studied for years to mix drinks only to stand here and take your shit, you’re mistaken.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You insulting me?”
“No,” she said, training her bright eyes on me. “I’m telling you to get the fuck on with it like I am.”
“Getting on with it,” I told her, pushing two plates under the lamp and hitting the buzzer. “But under more pressure than you.”
Vicky appeared instantly. To her credit, Raven didn’t say a word until she’d disappeared.
“You knew what you signed up to,” she told me, her finger pointing at me. “You literally offered yourself to me for this job. If you’re not up to it, get your ass the fuck out of here. Give me a damn good reason why I should tell people they have to wait forty-five minutes for their food per your latest order. Remember who I am, Parker.”
The spoon I was holding fell to the counter with an air-slicing shatter. I gripped the edge of the counter and leaned down so that my eyes met hers beneath the shadow of the hot plate.
Parker.
I didn’t give a fuck who she was.
In my kitchen, I wasn’t Parker.
The door opened.
Vicky froze. Alex stood in the freezer entryway with meat in his hands.
My voice was low and heavy as I spoke, keeping my gaze on Raven’s. “In my kitchen, you call me Chef.”
Raven’s eyes held mine with a devastating intensity. “And while your kitchen is in my building, you call me boss.” She rammed the heel of her hand into the edge of the countertop. “Be in my office when you finish at nine-thirty, Mr. Hamilton. We have a few things to discuss.”
She didn’t even give me the decency of time to respond. She turned and left in a flash of dark hair and floral skirt. The door clicked shut to the swish of her leaving the space.
She did that. She occupied every space with ease, filling it with her vibrant personality and take-no shit attitude.
I was over her attitude. Any awkwardness I’d felt walking in here and seeing her brother knowing I’d kissed her last night was gone. Any guilt had disappeared, too. It’d all been replaced by the stress of the evening’s work and the annoyance at her.
Just days ago she’d told me never to undermine her, yet she’d done that to me in front of her staff. I didn’t give a shit if she owned the entire town—she was in my kitchen. There was one boss in my kitchen and that was me.
Nine-thirty meeting in her office.
Raven Archer had one hell of a shock coming to her tonight.