In the Fire (14 page)

When Claire stuck her head in my office and saw my face, she frowned. “What’s up, E? You look like someone pissed in your cornflakes.”

I rolled my eyes and hit replay on the voice mail and punched the speaker button, watching the play of emotion on her face as an amused smile curled her lips. She jabbed me in the ribs and I winced.

“You’re being auctioned off like a piece of meat. I love it.”

“I hate it, but I can’t get out of it. I promised Chef B months ago and I don’t want to let anyone down.”

She smiled at me fondly. “You won’t let anyone down. You take care of everyone.”

“Yeah, right. This place is slowly headed down the toilet and it’s all my fault.”

“Ethan, listen to me. You, out of everyone here, put in long hours to keep us up and running. These random things are just a small setback, okay?” She ruffled my hair as she headed out my door, closing it behind her.

“I hope so. I really don’t want to be there to watch Cal hand out the final checks.” I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. Just for five minutes, I needed equipment to not break, catch on fire, or be covered in shit. Five minutes.

“Chef?” Tyler’s voice was muted through the closed door. “I think we’re almost done.” A loud crash and swearing followed. “Never mind. We’re not quite done.”

I got up and headed to the door. It was stupid to think I could catch five minutes of peace. There were always more fires to put out.

Chapter Twenty

Jamie

The drive to the Institute had been quiet. Trevor, thankfully, had left me alone save for a text telling me what time he planned on meeting me in the lobby. No other discussion on his declaration of his feelings or what had transpired between him and Ethan. Nothing but silence. We would have to talk about it all, deal with the huge elephant in the room with us, but right now I needed to get through this weekend. I wasn’t prepared to throw away nine years of friendship, but I also wasn’t willing to let it all go without letting him know exactly how much all this had cut me.

“We’re here, Mr. Pratt. I’ll be back to pick you both up at two o’clock.”

Trevor leaned forward and shook the driver’s hand before following me out of the car. “Thank you. I’ll call the service if we’re running late.”

Without waiting for him to catch up, I began walking to the front doors of the school’s restaurant. Once there, though, my guilt got the better of me and I held the door open for him. He stood there and stared at me, waiting for me to say something, but that one gesture was all I could muster today.

“Not today, Trevor. We’ll talk at some point, but I can’t do this today.”

His face fell, but instead of saying anything he simply nodded and walked through the doors to the back of the restaurant. Calling on every drop of Lassiter blood in me, I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face. A group of people stood at the doors leading to the kitchen, shaking hands and laughing. A few were dressed in chef’s coats while others were in plain clothes. Before I could scan the entire group, my eyes lighted on the tall, older gentlemen at the center of the group.

“Monsieur Lassiter. Glad you could make it. I was just introducing everyone. This is Natalie Turner, head chef at La Tour in Portland.” I reached out my hand to the chef standing next to Chef Boulanger.

“Nice to finally meet you, James. I’ve been following your career. Quite impressive.”

Natalie was about five foot ten with well-defined forearms and spiky blond hair. Her grip was firm when she shook my hand. She was well known for not taking any crap in the kitchen or in public.

“Thank you. You’ve made an impressive name for yourself and La Tour. I haven’t made it to Portland in a while, but from the reviews La Tour has been getting, I need to visit soon. It’ll be a treat working beside you today during the brunch service.”

She smiled warmly, but before we could discuss today’s menu, Chef Boulanger clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“And I think you know our other guest chef today,
oui?
”

Keeping a smile plastered on my face, I turned around to greet the other chef. I drew in a quick breath when I saw him. Ethan smirked, but his deep green eyes were guarded. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his usual restless energy wasn’t there.

I stuck out my hand for him to shake. He hesitated, and I was convinced he’d refuse. When he finally shook my hand, I held on a little bit longer than I knew he wanted me to, squeezing gently. A moment of sick satisfaction came over me when his eyes widened in surprise. I didn’t catch Ethan off guard very often, but I’d take it if I could get him to realize that sooner or later he would have to talk to me.

“Ethan. I didn’t know you’d be one of the guest chefs here today until I got to Seattle. Somehow, that little bit of information got lost along the way when I called Chef B to volunteer.”

Ethan snorted and shot a glare at our former teacher. “Yeah, I think I missed that memo too.”

Chef Boulanger chuckled, then waved his hand toward the double doors in the back of the room. “The rest of the staff has already assembled and is waiting for us with all the preparations you requested. I think you will find our students more than adequate for all your sous chef needs. You have an hour before we open our doors to our guests.
Bonne chance et merci pour votre aides aujourd’hui
.”

There were several basic stations already set up and manned by students from the school. Their serious expressions told me they were simultaneously trying their hardest to hide their nerves in front of Ethan, Natalie and me. Trevor slipped into the background, leaning up against the door leading to the offices as he tried to keep out of the way.

After I slipped my chef’s coat on and washed my hands, I surveyed my prep station. challah bread, almonds, maple syrup, bourbon, and other items covered the table. An overeager student with a nametag that read Sarah was all ready and waiting for me as I surveyed the pots and pans.

“I already pulled the butter and spices for your recipes, Chef. What would you like me to work on first?”

I pushed all thoughts of beating Ethan senseless aside and grinned. As I pushed the bowl toward her, I wondered if I had ever been that green and eager when I was in school. Probably even more so. I’d wanted to impress anyone and everyone in my effort to break away from the traditional Lassiter image.

“Thank you, Sarah. Everything looks great. How about you prepare the almonds and the egg mixture while I work on the bread and syrup?”

As I set about cutting the challah into thick, hearty slices, I tried to stay calm and focused. Instead, my mind kept wandering over to the station next to me. Ethan had already lined up several pans and pots, measuring out what looked like grits into boiling water. He never once looked up at me or Natalie.

Needing some form of interaction to keep my mind off what to do about the man standing next to me, I called out, “Hey, Natalie. What dish are you gracing us with today?”

She smiled. “A green chile frittata with a mint-melon side dish. What are your incredibly talented hands creating over there? It smells delicious.”

Ethan tensed, making me bite back a laugh. Instead of looking up, he began grating the cheese in front of him faster. Someone would have to check for scraped knuckles and blood if he kept up that pace. “Almond-crusted French toast with a bourbon maple syrup. It practically melts in your mouth.”

All movement at Ethan’s station stopped and I waited to see whether he was going to join in or ignore us completely. He bit out a curse, which made me want to push as many of his buttons as possible.

Unable to stop myself, I added, “I don’t think it can compare to Ethan’s dishes. Creamy grits and hearty sausage. I’ll have to try some later. I bet it’s delicious.”

When he met my eyes his predictable Martin temper was present, but simmering just behind it was an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. He gave me his trademark smirk as he waved at my prep station. “My sausage is superb as always, Golden Boy.” He leaned over to look at my prep station and snorted. “Most people like an edge to their entree. However, with the heavy-handed use of that egg mixture you’ve got over there, I’d be careful of your
French
toast getting too soggy. No one likes a limp...dish.”

The sarcastic sneer that dripped from the word
French
hit home. The urge to throw a large, preferably sharp knife at him was slightly less than the urge to throw my head back and laugh. It had been ages since we’d been anywhere near a kitchen together. Hearing the snark that came out of his mouth any time he was near a cooking utensil made me realize how much I had missed it.

Unable to stop myself, I backed away from my prep station and walked over to his. The tension in his body told me he didn’t want me anywhere near him, but he kept his eyes trained on the food in front of him. Without asking permission, I picked up a set of tongs and began turning the sausages he’d just placed in the frying pan behind him. His almost imperceptible curse told me I’d hit my mark. It took everything in my power not to turn and face him, to try and force him to talk to me or at least acknowledge my presence in the kitchen next to him, even though I knew he wouldn’t. Not with everyone here. Not when we couldn’t have the knock-down-drag-out he wanted to have with me. There was no way to count the number of hours we spent in his apartment’s kitchen cooking side by side, but I had ached for times like that during those first few years we were apart. Even with all this tension between us, I missed cooking with him.

As casually as I could, I peered over my shoulder at him, stunned for a moment to see him staring at me, the intensity in his green eyes enough to make my knees wobble. I swallowed hard and put on my best Ethan smirk. “Your sausage looked like it needed help.”

He muttered another curse and took the tongs from me, effectively moving me away from him and his station. “Trust me, I know my way around a sausage, Lassiter.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. Your meat-handling skills are legendary.”

His head snapped up. I’d scored a point for Team Lassiter.

A snort behind me recalled my attention to the students who were present in the kitchen with us. I had no idea if they were used to banter like this, but they were all filing it away in detail to tell their friends about once they were cut loose to grab a few drinks with their fellow students.

Natalie snorted as I made my way back to my station and went back to whisking the egg mixture. “I have a feeling I’m missing a vital piece of information in this repartee, but carry on boys. Carry on. I do love a show with my meal.”

Ethan’s reply was cut off when Chef Boulanger came in to announce the arrival of the first guests.

I raised an eyebrow when Ethan looked at me. His expression softened just a touch, before he gave me a slight nod. Then, in a flurry of movement, the floor staff descended on us, sliding orders in for our dishes the restaurant had on the menu today.

Orders came in more quickly than I’d expected they would, effectively cutting off any more banter between me and Ethan. As the organized chaos in the kitchen increased, the realization I was out of practice at this startled me. At the same time, I hadn’t felt this invigorated in so long and I knew with more certainty than I’d known anything in a long time my upcoming sabbatical from the limelight was going to be worth it.

After two hours of non-stop plate pushing, I waved Sarah forward to take over for a minute while I grabbed a bottle of water. As I leaned against one of the walk-in fridge doors, I glanced at Ethan’s station. The ease and fluidity with which he moved was amazing to watch. Ethan had always been a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen, but watching him now, I had a chance to see just how much he had grown as a chef. Every move was efficient. He gave orders to his sous chef, who prepped alongside him, but his tone of voice had mellowed over the years. He dominated, letting everyone know who was boss in his work-space, but there was a gentleness about him I had rarely seen him show anyone, save me or Claire, as he worked alongside the much younger and greener students. He’d changed, and I hadn’t been here to see it happen.

* * *

The last orders had been sent out, and the flurry of activity that had dominated the kitchen for almost four hours came to a standstill. More students appeared to clean up the stations, smiling politely and declining when I offered to pitch in.

Natalie walked up and bumped her shoulder against mine. “Nice work today, James. Don’t report me, but I snuck a piece of your French toast earlier and the combination of the almonds with bourbon maple syrup is brilliant. You’ll have to share the recipe with me.”

The smile on my face matched the one on Natalie’s.

“Of course. And I won’t report you if you won’t report me for sneaking a piece of your frittata in the back in an effort to figure out which spices you used.”

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Himalayan pink salt, but don’t tell anyone. I love to keep people guessing.”

My laughter surprised me. It felt like ages since I’d had anything to really laugh about. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Her smile softened when she caught me watching Ethan, who was talking with one of his sous chefs. “As is yours. Be sure to look me up if you ever venture my way.”

I nodded, then turned my attention back to the other side of the kitchen. It had felt good to be in the same kitchen as Ethan, but the feelings churning inside me were anything but pleasant.

He shook hands with his sous chef and smiled, wishing her good luck with her promising career. As soon as she moved away, I joined him and lowered my voice. “Ethan. We need to talk.”

The look he shot me was a mixture of anger and raw pain. If we had been anywhere private, it would have dropped me to my knees. When had we become this? When had we descended into something so toxic we couldn’t even be in the same room?

Before Ethan could respond, Chef Boulanger came to each of us, shaking hands and thanking us for a successful service. When he got to me, Trevor came forward to solidify our plans for the auction and the following weekend. Even though I was still upset with Trevor, his attention to detail and planning had always been in my best interest. Sadly for him, us being together the way he wanted wasn’t.

“It was good to see you and Monsieur Martin working together again. It has been too long since that has happened,
non?
”

My body went taut with tension, but I managed a small nod and smile. “It has. Thanks for the opportunity, Chef. It was wonderful to be back in the kitchen.”

“Our kitchens are open anytime for you, Monsieur Lassiter. I will see you tonight.”

Chef Boulanger moved to the side, a sly smile still on his face, leaving me in awe of how genius he still was at getting his students where he felt they should be. Trevor followed after him to finalize the details for the auction and I watched as Trevor seemed to become more confused the more Chef B smiled. I moved closer to them when I saw Chef B’s hand wave in Ethan’s direction.

“
Oui
. It was
parfait
seeing them together after all these years, especially after what happened during the last round of the scholarship competition.
Mais
,
bien sur
, Monsieur Martin did what he thought was the best at the time.”

Before I could hear the rest of their conversation, Sarah stepped in front of me. “Chef Lassiter? A few students were wondering if you’d sign autographs for them.”

Before I knew it, the student chefs engulfed me, bombarding me with questions about being a chef in New York to my opinion on the newest Asian fusion craze. Once I had shaken the last student’s hand, I turned and looked for Ethan. I had no idea if he was going to be at the gala tonight, but I had roughly four hours before I needed to be back at my hotel and dressed for the event, plenty of time for us to duck out and grab a drink and talk.