In the Raw (2 page)

Chapter Three

Ethan

It was already dark by the time I got back to the apartment after my tutorial with Chef Boulanger. I flipped on the lights, threw my keys onto the table and headed for the kitchen. After the stress of the afternoon, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and flopped down on the couch with a tired grunt.

I startled when I heard Claire’s keys in the door. I rubbed my bleary eyes, sitting up straight as she tossed her keys on the table to join mine. She plopped down on the couch next to me with a sigh.

“How’s the restaurant?”

“Busy. My arms are going to fall off from all the dough I rolled for the pastry chef.” She held out her arms and I flicked a stray dusting of flour off her sleeve. “Pastry for school. Pastry for work. Pastry everywhere. How was the tutorial? I can’t imagine it went quickly with how much of a perfectionist Boulanger is...” Her eyes widened in horror. “He’s still letting you enter the competition, right?”

I put my feet back up on the coffee table and ran my hand through my hair as I tried to clear the fog from my brain.

“Well?” Claire poked me impatiently.

“If he wasn’t, do you think I’d still be sober, little sister?” I chuckled darkly and gestured with my half-empty beer bottle.

“Don’t joke about that shit, E. Just because Dad was a drunk doesn’t mean you’re like him. Okay?” I bared my teeth at her when she swiped the bottle. She grinned back at me, took a drink. “Ugh. How can you drink this warm?”

“Well, I kinda fell asleep.” I rubbed my eyes again. “What time is it, anyhow?”

She glanced at her watch. “Eight fifty-two.”

“Shit. Where have you been?”

She rolled her eyes at me and settled back against the couch. “Okay, Warden. I would have been home hours ago if my internship leader hadn’t asked me to stay. ‘Five more minutes’ turned into four hours.”

“You can tell them no. They’re supposed to treat you like an intern, not a slave.”

She laughed and rubbed her eyes. “It’s the business, Ethan. Long hours are part of the glitz and glamour.”

“I can talk to them, you know. I’ll stop by—”

“Ethan! No. Your brotherly chats always end up with you threatening to kick someone’s ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “It was one time. Anyhow, it’s my brotherly duty.” The gangly punk who’d groped my baby sister had deserved an ass kicking. “That little shit. What was his name?”

“Donnie Reynolds. He grabbed my chest one time. You threatened to break his hand off and shove it up his ass.”

I doubled over laughing as she launched couch pillows at my head.

“Not funny, E. You’re the sole reason I never got asked to dances in high school.” Claire pouted. “Everyone was afraid of my psychotic brother.”

“Good,” I crowed. “No one touches my sister without her permission.
Oomph.
” The air hissed out of my body when another pillow smacked me in the face. “Okay, okay, I surrender. I won’t talk to anyone. For now.”

“Listen up, mister. You’re my big brother and I love you for always looking out for me. But don’t think it means I won’t hesitate to kick your ass if I need to. Got it?”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d still do it again.”

When the phone rang, I ignored it. At this time of night, it was most likely someone trying to call Claire to get her to take on more hours. Or worse, someone was trying to get me to take their shift at the school’s restaurant. No thanks. I had barely enough time to breathe after work and school as it was.

Claire leaned over the back of the couch to grab the phone. She cleared her throat before answering. “Claire and Ethan’s Palace of Torture. Claire speaking.”

She smiled as I sighed heavily.

“Jamie! Hey! How are you?”

Who was Jamie? Did she mean Lassiter from our class?

“Nah, you didn’t interrupt anything. Ethan and I were just hanging out.”

“Is that Lassiter?” I whispered. “What does he want?”

She made a shushing gesture with her hands when I glared. I wandered into the kitchen. Another beer was definitely in order.

I heard my sister giggle. I peered over the top of the fridge door but I couldn’t see her expression. Since when did Claire giggle? What in the hell was going on with my sister and Golden Boy? I felt my stomach knot with unease as I was faced with the possibility Lassiter might be interested in Claire as more than a cooking partner.

I grabbed a beer and leaned against the counter. My hand tightened around the cap and twisted harder than necessary when she laughed at their conversation.

“Sounds like fun. We could even take turns and try different techniques out on each other.” Claire paused and shot daggers at me when I rolled my eyes.

She turned her back on me and hmm’d and murmured into the phone. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I mean, yeah. I know. I don’t know how it’ll go.”

I knew they had stayed after class a few times to use the school’s equipment to work on our assignments, but this sounded like Claire was inviting him over to our place. Richie Rich didn’t need to see our cramped little abode and compare it to his no doubt palatial estate. She turned back around to face me. Her eyes were narrowed, as if daring me to interrupt her.

“Okay. I say we do it. Yeah. Tomorrow? Perfect. How about eight o’clock? I’ll take care of the food and everything else we’ll need. Just bring yourself and whatever you want to drink. We have beer in the fridge, but Ethan’s taste is rather eclectic.”

I saluted her with my bottle of swill before taking a drink. She flipped me the bird and practically purred into the phone, “Perfect. See you tomorrow.”

She tossed the phone behind her and slid back down the couch with a Cheshire cat grin on her face. “Thank God there’s no class tomorrow and I don’t have to go back to my internship until next week.”

I glared at her and took a huge swig before answering. “I didn’t know you and Lassiter were all buddy buddy now. What was that about? Why is he coming here instead of meeting you at the school? And what kind of techniques are you going to try out on each other?”

I was being an ass, but the sudden, irrational jealousy that spiked inside me had me on edge. Sure, the guy was hot. Sure, I had visions of us doing more than hunting for spices in the storage room, but who wouldn’t? I shouldn’t feel weird about him coming over to hang out with Claire. It wasn’t like either of us had shown any interest in him before.

She sighed and closed her eyes as she rested her head against the couch. “Cooking techniques. Shit, E, get your mind out of the gutter. Jamie’s not interested in me. He’s nice but I’m not into him, either. Play nice. For me? Just this once I want to have friends like normal people who don’t spend their lives chained to a stove.”

I leaned over to flick her on the ear. The tightness in my chest loosened a little at her adamant declaration neither she nor Lassiter were interested in each other. I wasn’t sure I believed her, but a part of me really wanted to. I smirked when she flipped me the bird again. “Anything for you, Clairebear.”

“Fuck you too, E.”

I scrubbed my hand over my face as I downed the last of my beer and headed into the bathroom to wash all the flour from today off my body. Jamie Lassiter was the last person I needed hanging around us. Period. I’d suffer through tomorrow night for Claire, but then we were cutting the cord and sending Golden Boy back to his golden tower where he belonged.

Chapter Four

Jamie

I hung up with Claire and stared at the cell phone in my hand. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, setting up a study date with Claire to work on our techniques, all in the presence of her sexy brother. But now I’d actually followed through with my plan, I was beginning to doubt myself.

I’d noticed Ethan during our first semester. Everyone had noticed Ethan our first semester. He was the quintessential bad boy. Rough around the edges, cocky and temperamental, with visible piercings in his ears and one eyebrow, he was everything I wasn’t. Ethan wasn’t polished and fake like the society girls my mother thrust at me.

One day, after I stopped in at school to practice some techniques, I heard a deep laugh echo down the hallway. When I stuck my head in the open door of the classroom, I saw Ethan and Claire hunched over a prep table, laughing and joking about something. It was something I’d wanted at school, someone to joke around with, but I’d never let my guard down enough to actually risk it. But it was more than that. It was tenderness he showed her, the relaxed set of his shoulders and jaw, that showed how much he cared about her. It was the moment I became utterly fascinated with getting to know Ethan Martin better.

Getting to know him, however, had proven difficult. The one time I’d tried to say hello as we’d passed, he’d completely blown me off and continued his conversation with Chef B. Being partnered with Claire this semester had seemed like a lucky break.

Once we’d broken the ice and had begun talking in class she’d admitted she’d been taking double the course load in an attempt to graduate at the same time as her brother next year in an effort to lessen their tuition bills. It was a feat that would have had most of us crumbling under the pressure after the first semester.

All of that was admirable, and I loved having her as a partner, but I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit I was hoping to somehow get a little closer to her brother at the end of all this.

I flung the phone down on my bed and went into the kitchen to fix myself a late-night snack and beer. Once I got settled at the table, I thumbed through my book until I found the Chapter on soufflés. I tried to concentrate on the page, but I couldn’t make myself focus. When I realized I’d read the same paragraph three times, I tossed the book onto the table and took a deep swig of my beer.

I was at the top of the class, but right on my heels was Ethan. I secretly loved competing against him, almost as much as I loved watching him in the kitchen. I wanted the competition for the scholarship to be fair. We would both ace the preliminary round, which consisted mostly of basic kitchen techniques. The second round was going to be brutal as it included both cooking and pastry techniques. After the fiasco in class today, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Ethan would crash and burn on the pastry skills part. But maybe, just maybe, I could help him and not only even out the playing field, but get a shot at getting to know him better.

I glanced at the clock on the microwave and decided I needed to put the second half of my plan into action before I lost my nerve completely.

Pushing away from the table, I walked back to my bedroom to find my cell phone. I knew my parents would still be up and if I didn’t do this now, I’d never get out of tomorrow night. I sucked in a deep breath and called my parents, sighing inwardly when Mom picked up.

“James? Is everything okay? Why are you calling this late?”

I stifled a snide remark and took a deep breath, mentally cursing caller ID.

“Hey, Mom. I’m fine. Everything’s great. Sorry I’m calling so late. I had a long day at school and time got away from me while I was studying.”

“Oh, good. You had me worried when I saw your name come up on the caller ID this late at night. It’s been forever since we’ve seen you, dear. Thank heavens you’re coming to dinner tomorrow night. How is school?”

I could hear her shifting the phone to the other ear as ice clinked into a glass. The ten o’clock nightcap right on the dot.

“School’s going well. My communications class is still boring, but not everyone can be a business mastermind like Dad. We’re focusing on the basics of pastries in my dessert rotation right now, but I’m enjoying it. I have a great partner in class. You’d like her.” I didn’t even want to know what either of my parents would think about Claire’s brother.

“James, I wish you’d let Chef Rico help you. He’s offered countless times to privately tutor you.” She sighed heavily into the phone. We’d had this conversation too many times to count over my three years in culinary school. “It’s a moot point, though, when anything beyond basic skills isn’t needed. I’m not sure why you’re continuing on with these culinary classes when your father has already secured your future at his company.”

I gritted my teeth. I knew better than to rehash this argument with either of my parents. Both of them thought their connections were how I should get into the restaurant business and I should be taking business courses instead of going to culinary school.

“Mom, I appreciate all of Chef Rico’s offers. I do. But I love my classes. And I want to do this on my own. It’ll look better in my bio. We’ve talked about this. Remember?”

She paused for a moment. Ice clinked as she swirled her nightcap. “At least think about it, James. Chef Rico said he’d be discreet.”

“I’ll think about it, I promise. But my grades are good, so tell Chef Rico not to expect a phone call anytime soon. However, there is a student in my class whom I’d like to help the same way Chef Rico offered to help me. The problem is our schedules are tight with class and internships and everything. And, I was wondering if maybe...” I trailed off, almost completely losing my nerve.

“James, what are you going on about? I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

I clenched my fist tighter around my phone, determined to see this through. “Mom, I need to cancel our plans for dinner tomorrow night. The student I was talking about, the one who’s struggling? I’d like to help them but they can only meet tomorrow night. I know I was supposed to come for dinner at the house, but it would help both me and the other student if I was able to do this. I’d strengthen my skills by teaching someone else, and they’d benefit from the extra lessons. It’s a win-win situation.”

I paused to take a breath. The silence on the other end of the phone added an extra weight to the conversation.

“This student, she’s not some slacker, is she? I thought you said your partner was a good student. Why does she need your help?”

And there it was. Of course I’d be helping a female classmate. Part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind and finally come out once and for all. The other part of me, the one who had always done what my parents had expected of a Lassiter, plowed on with my plan, letting her believe her misconceptions.

“No, Mom. It’s not my partner. Actually, this student is one of the best in our class. It’s the pastry rotation that seems to be difficult for everyone right now. So I offered to help.”

After more silence, a deep sigh of disappointment echoed over the line.

“You’ll be missed tomorrow night, James. I had invited Susan Miller’s daughter, Amber, to join us. She’s such a polished young lady and it would do you good to meet more of our friends. Miller Corporation is one of the largest food processors your father deals with and it would be an opportunity to bring both of our families closer. Check your schedule and call me tomorrow when I’m not headed off to bed and have my planner in front of me. We expect to see you for dinner before the end of the month. Understood?”

It was more than understood. My school, helping a fellow student, my own goals, all of it was secondary to being a Lassiter. Message received, Mom. The fact she was attempting to set me up with a woman from our supposed social group was enough to make me roll my eyes. Amber might have been interesting, but she lacked the right equipment.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow. Tell Dad I’m sorry about canceling tomorrow night.”

We hung up without any emotional fanfare. I loved my parents but as a family we’d never been emotionally demonstrative. I tossed my phone aside and lay back on my bed to stare at the ceiling. This time tomorrow night, instead of suffering through another stifling dinner with my parents, I’d be at Claire and Ethan’s apartment. With sexy, tattooed Ethan Martin and his messy dark hair and green eyes. I brought my hand over my eyes, suddenly exhausted.

Time to call it a night. Scholarship competition or not, I wanted to get to know the real Ethan Martin, not the one who faced the world with a cocky smirk. I clicked off the light and lay in bed, thoughts of Ethan crowding my brain. Here I was getting hung up over someone and ditching my parents for dinner even though I had no clue whether he was into guys or not. As much as I wanted to find out the answer, I was more afraid to find out he still wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.

I tried to will myself to sleep as the minutes and hours passed, but no matter what I tried, his face was the only thing I saw when I closed my eyes.