Chapter Thirteen

Pepper

By the time I get home, I shake with anger. Thinking back, I wish I would have slapped his impertinent face. After everything we shared, I can’t believe he dissed my values, beliefs, and restaurant yet again. Where are Carter Caldwell’s priorities? He ruined an intimate night by picking a stupid argument with me the moment he pried his eyelids open. I always thought “morning afters” were for cuddling and breakfast. Getting closer, not wedging farther apart. For sure not insulting each other’s personal preferences.

Then again, I guess this shows what I know about men – which, admittedly, isn’t much. Sakana’s been my priority for so damn long, my vagina had gone into hibernation. Until last night. I calm down, allowing myself one spine-tingling memory of Carter’s hands on my fevered body.

But only one.

With anything positive firmly in the past, I knit my anger together again and wear it like a righteous cloak. Stumbling into the kitchen, I pour myself a mimosa, then go about whipping together a satisfying breakfast – poached eggs with some lump crab and steamed asparagus on the side. This is a perfectly satisfying meal. I take the first bite, chewing and allowing the tapestry of flavors to explode across my tongue. Yummy. After every bite is consumed, I scrunch up my face and load the dishwasher. Somehow, my delicious breakfast just makes me think of Carter again…and how he’d sneer in my face if he saw me sucking down lump crab instead of bacon or steak.

I know I need a distraction. Out of sight, out of mind.

That’s when I see the large manila envelope on the counter. Throwing the last drink of my mimosa down my throat, I wipe my hands on my denim-clad thighs and pick it up, slicing through the clear packing tape with my short thumbnail.

It’s a packet of information from the Food Network. It must’ve come yesterday – I’ve been watching the mail like a hawk – and seeing my name in huge font underneath that logo is enough to make my heart start to thud in my chest. I can’t believe it is on repeat in my head as I flip through the paperwork. I’m hoping for some information on what I’ll be expected to do – after all, I have no idea what kind of show they’re thinking of – but there’s not much to be found.

With a frown, I carry the papers over to the couch and flop down with one leg folded underneath me. Suddenly, my mind fills with ideas – should I try a bunch of new recipes, or should I stick to my old tried and true favorites? Licking my lips, I reach forward and grab a notepad and pen from the coffee table.

Ideas:

Tuna tartare tower

Lump crab ravioli with cream sauce

Stuffed shells with lobster and bay scallops

Frowning, I look down at the page. I know I must wow whoever is filming me – not to mention the audience – and somehow, none of this stuff seems good enough. It just doesn’t showcase my creativity, which is what launched my culinary career. I wonder if I should go all out, maybe try something crazy like a bunch of fancy sushi rolls…or maybe I should stick to the classics, like bouillabaisse. Is French food still in? What about fusion?

Why don’t I know these things? After all, I am head chef at Sakana! It’s because I’m a workaholic that doesn’t get out much. I certainly never watch TV. But I’m starting to wonder if maybe Carter’s right. Not about the meat, of course, I’d die before letting animal flesh pass my lips.

Maybe you’re not all you’re cracked up to be, Raelynn.

But maybe I’m not being open-minded enough when it comes to planning what will need to be my most sensational meal yet. And what if I’m on one of those weird, gimmicky shows with limited ingredients like Chopped? What if they drive me out to the middle of the desert and have me cook for a bunch of strangers, like I’m at Burning Man or something crazy? What if they take me to a jungle and have me cook for some native tribe – without even knowing their dietary restrictions?

Yikes. I inhale and feel like I might need to breathe into a bag.

But I’m getting ahead of myself and letting my perfectionist tendencies run amok, pushing me up into my own head and jailing me there.

Gnawing on my lip, I reach for my phone and dial Basil. He doesn’t answer until the third ring, and when he does, he sounds both annoyed and exhausted.

“Nice to see you’ve remembered me,” Basil says. I can barely make out his words since he yawns straight into the phone’s speaker.

I worry the fabric of my sleeve. I’m a first-class asshole and very unbestielike BFF. “Um, about last night–”

“Famous last words. Don’t worry about it,” Basil says with a laugh. “I managed to have a good time all by myself. Amazing who you can meet at a rodeo.”

Thinking about last night reminds me of Carter again, and I lean against the back of the couch and groan. What the heck am I supposed to do when he pops into my mind at the slightest provocation? I sweep him away, but he comes back, just like those damn dust bunnies that escape underneath your fridge.

“Hello, Pepper? Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah.” I shake my head to refocus. “Look, can you come over? I want to talk to you about some stuff.”

Basil snickers. “I bet you do. How big was it? How many times did you come? Give me twenty, and I’ll be there. And I’m starving. Can you make something for me?”

I ignore his questions that just bring me back to a place I no longer want to be. Focusing on the food, I sigh. At least someone appreciates my pescatarian tastes.

“Sure. I’ll be here.”

It’s only when we hang up that I realize I still haven’t showered. I’ve got Carter’s germs – his sexy man-scent – all over me, and I blush, wondering if Basil will be able to smell it on me. As quickly as I can, I take a shower, standing under the hot spray until all thoughts of Carter have turned to mush. I’m still towel-drying my hair when I hear the door open and close.

“Hello?” Basil yells. “You’re not in the foyer to greet me. Did you forget about me again?”

Blotting at my fevered skin, I dart into the living room and greet Basil with a quick hug.

I give him an ‘I’m sorry’ face. “Hey. There’s some lump crab and eggs – does that sound good?”

“Oh, yummy.” Basil rubs his hands together. “I knew I was in for a cheat meal when you called.”

Basil sits at the bar, idly flipping through my bundle of paperwork from the Food Network while I make him an omelet with lump crab, a pinch of homemade aioli, and some green onions.

“So,” Basil says, leaning on the counter. “You haven’t answered my burning questions about last night?”

I’m glad I’m still facing the stove, so he can’t see the huge red circles on my cheeks. And not from the gas stove.

“Really?” Whirling around, I don’t meet Basil’s eyes as I put the plate in front of him and hand him some flatware. “I talked to Cody, you know, it actually went pretty well. I guess I should be happy for him.”

Basil snorts and slams his fork down. “Girlfriend, that is not the reason why you abandoned me.” I finally force myself to meet his gaze, and when I do, I see that his handsome face is twisted into a cocky smirk.

I swallow hard. “Okay.” I hold up my hands, surrendering. “Maybe not.”

“I knew it. I just had to see your face to know the truth.” He raises an eyebrow and grins. “You finally got laid. Just for your reference, I expect you to be a lot less crabby from now on.”

“It’s not like it was my first time,” I say, offended that Basil would even imply such a thing.

“It may as well have been,” Basil replies, arching one brow. “What has it been, since college?”

I roll my eyes, feeling quite indignant. “No, of course not. It hasn’t been that long.”

Basil shakes his head and laughs at my expense. I fist my fingers to keep from putting him in the half-nelson.

“Hey,” I snap. “It’s not my fault, I’m just not that interested in men most of the time. I hardly leave Sakana. The only man I see on a regular basis who’s not you is Dante. And there isn’t enough Lysol in the world to clean that shit up enough so I’d go there.”

Basil breaks out in a rumbling laugh. “No doubt. I can’t even imagine who fucks him without putting a bag over his head. Probably has to pay for it.”

“You think Dante Giovanetti has to hire hookers?” I hiss in a breath. “No way.”

“Maybe not the paid professional type but gold diggers for sure. And I have no respect for women who have to support themselves on their knees. Gold digging is just as bad as being a hooker in my book.”

“I don’t have much respect for gold diggers either,” I say, biting my lip and glaring. “And don’t make me regret giving you the last of my lump crab. That stuff is so expensive right now.”

“Ah, yes, Pepper’s true passion comes out.” Basil flicks his wrist in my direction instead of his plate. When I glare at him, he softens and holds his hands up in the air in a sign of defeat. “Look, I’m just teasing, Pep. You know that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. I’m not really angry with Basil, but sometimes it’s fun to pretend just to get him going.

“I’m just happy for you,” Basil says. “Now, dish.” He puts his elbows on the counter, rests his chin on his locked hands, and flutters his eyelashes at me. “I want to know all about it. All the gory details, post haste.”

“It was…good.” I glance down, choosing my adjectives with care. “He’s really…hot. And sexy. And charming. And nice…at least, when he wants to be,” I add, unable to stop myself. A lump appears in my throat, and I swallow it down. Just thinking about Carter again makes my heart thud in my chest. Why does the only man that turns my crank have to be a complete asshat?

“When he wants to be?” Basil questions, rearing back. “What is this guy, some kind of supervillain? He sounds a little too Jekyll and Hyde for my taste.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and keeping my chin high in the air. “Just…you know. Someone from around here. No Marvel supervillain status at all.”

“Oh, god.” He gives me a dirty, knowing look. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one you made out with at the charity event?”

I groan and slap my hand against my forehead, covering my eyes. After he doesn’t speak for several seconds, I peek between my fingers to find him glaring at me.

“I knew it!” Basil cries. “I can’t believe you – Little Miss Horndog! I have to give it to you, though, he is one tall drink of water.” Basil whistles and licks his lips. “I’d climb that like a tree if his door swung my way.”

“I think I can safely say he’s one hundred percent straight,” I say, pursing my lips and blowing out a stream of frustrated air at the ceiling. “And it wasn’t all peaches and cream, either.”

“Oh?” Basil frowns. “What happened?”

My mind races as I search for the words to articulate what I’m feeling. As close as Basil and I are, I’m not used to dishing about men to him…especially not men like Carter Caldwell. It’s usually Basil who’s in the role of telling me what slutty adventures are going on in his life. And somehow, the role reversal makes me feel like there’s a huge, bright spotlight shining down on me. The attention feels weird, but not bad. Just not exactly what I like. I prefer being tucked away in the kitchen, working my magic on a bunch of ahi.

“Well, it was good,” I say.

Basil groans and flips his head to the side. “You have to give me more than what you’ve already said,” he whines. “Come on, Pepper, you’ve never talked about your sex life with me. For the first couple of years I knew you, I totally thought you were a prude. I wondered if maybe you hicks from Kansas were asexual.”

“I am most certainly not a prude,” I say, wounded. My mind drifts back to Carter’s head between my legs, licking me like a chocolate mousse. “It’s like I said. I don’t have time to date, and most of the men around here are preening peacocks. Too much Liberace and not enough Dean Martin. I don’t exactly fancy the idea of hooking up with some grease ball who just came out of a casino, throwing his benjamins around while pinching every server’s ass within three feet of him.”

“We’ve been in Vegas for too long,” Basil says. “Because god help me, I’m actually starting to think those polyester-clad high rollers are kind of cute. Maybe you should serve whale at Sakana.”

I giggle. Basil gives me a superior look, and I stop on an awkward hiccup.

“So, what makes this guy different?” Basil asks. “Come on – there has to be something there that turned prudish Pepper’s head. You did let him plow your field, so to speak.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, shaking my head. “Thank the heavens I still wax, lest the tiller get stuck in the hay.” As Basil laughs, I take a deep breath and think for a moment. “I don’t know. He seemed…normal, for once. You know – almost human. There’s this crazy physical connection between us that I can’t explain. All I know is that I’ve never felt it before.”

For once, Basil doesn’t make a joke or start teasing me. I’m glad because while it’s embarrassing enough to talk about how physically attracted I am to Carter, I’d never be able to put into words what he does to me emotionally. The way my heart does funny things when he’s around.

Basil merely nods, showing his interest with his questing eyes. “Go on…

“He apologized for badmouthing Sakana, for one.” I sigh, trying to make all these feelings unjumble. “And it seemed genuine – not like he was just saying it to get into my pants. Some kind of strange magic flowed between us. It blinded my good sense, rendering me stupid with lust. Or something.”

“Genuine is good,” Basil says, nodding in approval. “I’m not quite sure about the blinded by lust part. That’s usually a one-way ticket down the wrong track.”

“It is,” I agree. But I’m no longer thinking of Carter’s apology – I’m thinking of how good his rock-hard abs felt against my body as he thrust inside of me, my pussy clenching around him in perfect synergy.

“So, what happened?”

“I don’t know. It was…well, to be honest, it was kind of perfect.” I shrug, throwing my hands up in the open space in front of me. “He took me out to this secret little porch behind Steakhouse, and the sky was so beautiful, and I’d had a couple of drinks. The air just seemed so charged, you know? It was like we were the only two people left in the universe.”

“That’s baby-makin’ talk right there,” he says, raising an eyebrow and causing me to flush again. Before Carter, I never flushed unless I stood over a hot stove.

“Hush your mouth,” I snap, tossing my head like some kind of prim, nineteenth-century schoolmarm. “It was no such thing – he used a condom.”

“Good,” Basil says. “Because given how you can barely talk about him, I’d be worried if you decided now was a good time to reproduce.” He raises an eyebrow, and my flush deepens, heating my face with tiny pinpricks of blazing heat.

“And then he took me back to his place.” I recall the perfect ecstasy I’d felt when Carter pushed me down on the floor. “We didn’t even make it to his bedroom,” I add, raising an eyebrow. “Right in the foyer.”

“Oooh, this is good,” Basil says, clapping in approval. “It’s like a Friday episode of The Young and the Restless. Please don’t leave it on a cliffhanger.”

“I won’t,” I say. Now that I’m talking about it, I can practically feel Carter’s hands caressing me once again, and goose bumps break out on my skin.

“So, what went wrong? I haven’t heard anything diabolical yet.”

My mental image of Carter and myself, tangled up together in a sweaty naked frenzy, pops like a soap bubble.

“We fell asleep,” I say. “And in the morning…well, let’s just say we got into a fight about food.” I toss my hair and roll my eyes. “I don’t understand how a chef – of all people – can be so self-righteous. We may be in direct competition with each other, but he’s walked a mile in my shoes. How can he completely lack empathy? Or understanding? He reminds me of…my…my dad.”

Basil reaches out and grabs my hand. “He probably thinks you’re the same way,” he says. “But I can understand how one wouldn’t want a fatherly image to appear when thinking of one’s lover. And remember how you freaked out when I suggested adding Korean pork belly to the menu at Sakana?”

I narrow my eyes as I think back. “That was a dark time, and we won’t ever discuss it again,” I say, brushing it off. “And of course I care. I can’t believe he shovels red meat down his throat like there aren’t any more sophisticated or evolved food choices. He’s probably going to get heart disease before he turns forty, even if he works out. And that’s not even touching on what all that meat consumption does to the environment, it’s so–”

Basil holds up a hand to silence me. “Pepper, that’s enough,” he says, shaking his head as he caresses my palm in bestie solidarity. “I get it. Your beliefs are really important to you. I doubt the man wants to hook you up to an IV drip of animal flesh. Did you ever think that maybe his values are important to him too?”

“Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “It’s just–”

“It gets you all hot under the collar,” Basil finishes for me, giving me a crooked half-smile. “I get it, I really do. But you like this guy, and I’ve never seen you go to pieces over anyone like this before. You know what they say about the opposite of love being indifference? You’re anything but indifferent about Carter Caldwell.”

“I’m not going to pieces over Carter,” I argue, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m just expressing myself. I’m a person who cares about what I believe in.”

Basil pulls out his phone and checks the time. “Do you know you’ve been talking about him for twenty minutes?” He holds up the phone for inspection. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you talk about something that long before…besides Sakana, I mean.”

I roll my eyes. Twenty minutes too long, more like, I think as I watch Basil take the last bite of his now-cold omelet.

“Well, on to more important things,” I say, taking the Food Network paperwork from Basil’s hands and flipping through it. “I’ve got to decide what I’m going to make for my audition.”

Basil nods, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Why not roast Carter with a side of arrogance?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help bursting into giggles. “That would be just perfect,” I say, shaking my head and snorting. “I’m sure I’d walk away with the prize. Who could deny how delicious that would be?”

Basil raises an eyebrow. “Especially if he keeps his shirt off the whole time. Maybe we could serve sushi rolls off the indentations in his abs. You’d have the female vote for sure.”

As much as I hate to admit it, I know Basil’s right. Not about the roast Carter, of course – but about the fact that no matter what asinine thing he does, I can’t seem to get him out of my head.

What in the flaming hell is happening to me?