In the Fire (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ethan

The kitchen was a flurry of movement and noise as we prepped for the dinner rush. I tried to concentrate on the pork chops in front of me but my mind kept replaying the events of last night. Jamie’s body under mine. The way his hands had dug into the small of my back, pulling me harder against him. And the shower afterward? The glazed look in his eyes as I laved my tongue up and down his shaft. His guttural cry of pleasure when I took him deep down my throat as he came. All of it had me sporting wood, aching to feel his skin under my fingers again.

The sudden crash behind me silenced everything, save for Eddie Vedder’s voice echoing through the speakers. My hands stilled over the pork chops I was preparing. “Son of a bitch.” Without turning around, I snarled, “I’m going to give whoever dropped that shit exactly one minute to clean up. We haven’t spent the past week cleaning this kitchen until it’s spotless to pass inspection for you to fuck it all up again.”

A chorus of “Yes, Chef” rang out behind me and the flurry of movement kicked into high gear. When I looked up, I caught Tyler and one of the waitresses carrying a huge dripping stainless steel bowl over to the sink.

When I laid down my knife and turned in their direction, ready to rip someone a new asshole for dumping the maple glaze for the pork chops I was working on, I found myself looking directly into the narrowed eyes of my little sister.

“Was your intent to butterfly that or to create a new form of weird-ass food art? You’re mutilating the poor piece of meat.”

I turned back to the pork chop on the cutting board in front of me, picked up my knife. “I’m quite good with all forms of meat, little sister. Now leave me alone and let me go back to work. You know? That thing we’re all supposed to be doing around here? Instead of dropping shit and giving the boss a hard time?”

A steel grip fastened around my bicep, pausing my next slice through the admittedly ruined remains of the chop I had been working on.

“You. Outside. I don’t even give a crap if you blow through your entire pack of smokes. You need a break.”

I glared at her, but I set the knife down and brushed off her arm. “No one burn the place down for five minutes.”

Head held high, I marched over to the sink and washed my hands. After a brutally harsh scrubbing, I threw the hand towel across the kitchen and followed her outside. As soon as the door slammed shut behind us, I turned on Claire. “What the fuck? I really don’t appreciate you undermining me in front of the staff, Claire.”

“You know what I don’t appreciate, Ethan? You prowling around like you’ve got a stick up your ass and barking orders at us like we can’t function without you micromanaging for five goddamn seconds. What the hell has gotten into you? I’d have thought you and Jamie would have at least gotten your shit sorted out last night.”

I knew my eyes narrowed at her words. I yanked out a smoke and lit up.

“I wouldn’t have to bark orders if the staff could refrain from dumping food all over the goddamn place.”

“Stop avoiding the issue here. You two did get your shit sorted, right? I mean, you had the whole night. You had to have gotten at least some of it sorted.”

I shrugged.

“Ethan Thomas Martin.”

“Christ, Claire. The full name? Really?”

I inhaled deeply as she stared at me. Then her whole face changed and she hooted in triumph. “You slept with him.”

“What?” I coughed and sputtered.

“You totally slept with him and now you’re all tied in knots because your overthinking brain can’t figure out what the hell you really want now. I knew it. You’re wearing your ‘I Got Laid But Now What the Hell Do I Do’ face.”

“I admit nothing.”

“You just did.”

I rested my head against the wall behind me, closed my eyes and took a long drag, letting the smoke curl around me. Spilling my guts about everything that happened last night wasn’t on my agenda. Hell, even I didn’t have my head wrapped around it all, and I sure as hell wasn’t talking to my little sister about me and Jamie getting busy between the sheets.

“Claire, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want to talk to you about my love life.”

She snickered and pulled the cigarette out of my hand. “Spill it. What happened? And you better not say you regret anything. I know you’re both miserable without each other.”

Snatching the cigarette back, I took another deep drag before smashing it out against the wall.

“Honestly? I have no clue what to tell you. We talked. And you can wipe that goddamn smirk off your face if you want me to keep talking.”

Claire made a swiping motion down her face, her smirk disappearing as she feigned seriousness. The sooner I ripped off this Band-Aid, the sooner Claire would leave me alone.

“What do you want me to say, Claire? That I regret last night? I don’t. But who knows what will happen tomorrow? It’s not like I have the best track record of normal adult relationships.”

Claire’s face lost its playfulness, her features softening as she wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed lightly.

“That’s the whole point. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Or next week or month. But if you live your life always worried about shit that might never happen, you’ll miss out on what’s right in front of you. No matter what Jamie says, he came back to Seattle for you. Not the school, not Chef B, and not the charity gala. For you, Ethan.”

I stiffened in her arms, but she just held on and laid her head against my chest where my heart was hammering painfully.

“Claire, I...I just don’t know what to do. What if we try this again and it doesn’t work? I’m not sure I can do it all over again.” I let out a shaky laugh. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“That’s the beauty of life. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. But you need to remember something.” She pulled back to look up at me, her smile sad and knowing. “Most people don’t get a second chance. They get on the merry-go-round of life and once they get off, they’re off. No going back. No do-overs. You and Jamie have a second chance. I can’t predict the future and promise you won’t get hurt. No one can. What I can promise is if you don’t at least explore where this is going, you’ll never forgive yourself. And honestly? I have a hard enough time not kicking your surly ass on a daily basis right now; I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do to you if you add guilt-induced crankiness to that stunning personality of yours.”

The knot I’d felt in my gut all morning eased a little. With a quick kiss on her forehead, I finally wiggled free of her octopus hug.

“You’re pretty smart, Short Stack.”

She let out a snort as she pulled away, her hands straightening my chef’s coat before she stood back.

“I may be small but I can still kick your ass, and don’t you forget it.” She headed back to the restaurant, stopping in the doorway. “Don’t overthink this, E. You and Jamie have grown up a lot since we were all in school. Don’t let the mistakes you both made back then screw up what’s happening right now. You both deserve to be happy, regardless of what you might think. Look, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? You’re barely here anyway and after the five-star dinner I was treated to last night, consider it my thanks to the chef.”

She ducked into the restaurant, leaving me calmer but more confused than when I’d left Jamie this morning.

* * *

I finished my beer and placed the empty bottle on the end table. Music blared from the speakers of my stereo, but I still couldn’t quiet my mind. All the questions I’d had earlier in the day multiplied the longer I thought about Jamie. I hadn’t heard from him all day, but I also hadn’t made the effort to call him either. I hadn’t dated since I was a teenager and the last time Jamie and I had been together we’d pretty much jumped feet first into the serious relationship pool. How the hell was I supposed to do this without feeling so vulnerable?

Claire’s advice kept coming back to me. As much as I wanted to believe in what she’d said, the first time shit had ended with Jamie it had almost destroyed me. The thought of going through all of it a second time was terrifying.

As I stared at the empty beer bottles again sitting on the coffee table, I knew I needed more than a slight buzz to help me sleep. After locking the front door and turning off all the lights, I headed to the bathroom, turning the water to an almost unbearable temperature. I tugged off my clothes and slipped under the hot spray, hissing when it stung my body. The brief pain morphed into bliss when for the first time all day, the tension in my neck and shoulders began to loosen.

I closed my eyes to enjoy the feel of the water as it beat my stiff muscles into submission. With as little effort as I could expend, I grabbed the soap and began to lather up my body.

Eight years. The only person I’d ever wanted was back in my life after eight years, but I still didn’t know what to do about him. All I knew was he made me feel even more out of control. Over the years, I’d put everything I had into Sharpe’s on Fifth and being the best chef I could be. Even with the stress of managing the kitchen, the bills, the struggle of trying to save enough money to open my own place, I had held it together. But being with Jamie again made me realize the one thing I’d been missing over the years. Jamie. Someone who knew me inside and out and still accepted me for the surly asshole I was.

I remembered the way his body had felt against mine when he’d pushed me against the shower wall. I’d been helpless to do anything but wrap my arms around him and hold on. My soapy hand slid lower on my body. My slick fingers stroked over my cock, which ached for release even after how many times we’d come together last night.

I closed my eyes and thought of how sexy the scattering of freckles across his shoulders still was, how his blue eyes darkened when he was turned on. The way his voice sounded when I was buried inside him.

With a shuddering gasp, I came in my hand, warmth mixing with the water as I stroked myself through my release. I leaned into the water, letting it pelt my face and neck. Finally tired enough to sleep, I rinsed my body and hand off a last time, shut off the water and grabbed a towel.

I wrapped it around my hips and padded back into my bedroom, content to finally pass out. My phone’s message indicator light blinked red at me as I dropped my towel and climbed underneath the covers. I swiped my finger over the screen and smiled for the first time since I’d left Jamie’s borrowed suite.

How was work?

I settled back against my headboard, my fingers moving across the screen before I had a chance to second-guess myself.

Good. Left early. Claire’s orders. What about you?

Took care of some paperwork, but good. Should I ask why C made you leave early?

My fingers hovered over my phone, not wanting to admit I’d been worthless at work. But if we were going to make this work, we’d have to start talking to each other.

Too distracted to be worth shit.

As I stared at the screen, my smile began to fade when no message came through. I had my fingers poised to type up an excuse for my distraction when the next message appeared.

Same problem here. Too much thinking about last night.

Care to share?

The next reply came much quicker.

Couldn’t stop thinking about the shower.

My cock twitched as heat flooded my body thinking about the shower I’d just taken and our shower last night.

Speaking of showers, just took one.

Bet it wasn’t nearly as fun.

I snorted as my fingers flew across the screen.

Not quite, but it doesn’t mean you weren’t in there with me.

Another pause, but not quite as long this time.

Too bad I don’t remember this shower. Details?

I thought about asking Jamie to come over so I could give him the details in person.

Let’s just say I’m much more relaxed now.

Again, too bad I missed it. Lunch or dinner before I leave town?

The semi I was sporting wilted when I ran through my schedule in my head. I had burned my day off with the auction dinner last night, not to mention the fact Claire had covered me tonight since I couldn’t even butterfly a pork chop without mutilating it. The thought of him leaving without us seeing each other again made the distance between Seattle and New York seem that much greater.

Working all week. Coffee at Wheelhouse between preps tomorrow?

The reply was instant.

Perfect. Meet you at Cal’s at 3.

FYI—you’re buying.

FYI—I’m headed to the shower.

I barked out a laugh as I read the last message several times, the tension the shower hadn’t worked out, slowly draining from my body.

Have a good shower, Golden Boy.

I plan to. See you tomorrow, E.

I fought the urge to text him back with a snarky reply just to keep the connection going. Instead I grabbed my charger and plugged my phone in, setting it on the bedside table and turning off the lamp. When I settled under the covers, the exhaustion from the past twenty-four hours finally caught up with me. My brain was still a whirlwind of confusion and questions, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt something else. Hope.

* * *

The blare of music startled me out of a restless sleep as my heart pounded in my ears. I sat up, and reached for my phone, which had started to vibrate across the bedside table. Without even looking at the display I hit Answer and flopped back against the bed, hoping it was a wrong number.

“Yeah?”

There was a pause with static and a rustling in the background. I held the phone closer to my ear. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Chef? Ethan?” The frantic male voice sounded familiar but it took my brain a second to recognize Tyler’s hoarse voice. I pulled the phone away from my ear and peered at the clock. 11:45 p.m.

“Tyler? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Chef, I’m at the hospital. Claire’s here too.” He took a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry.”

I climbed out of bed and began yanking clothes on as anxiety started to churn in my stomach, the taste sour in my mouth.

“What happened, Tyler? Calm down.”