Page 34 of Burning Rivalry

It was almost a relief to have a handful of calls to make regarding the upcoming opening. Felix checked in to update me on the status of new prospects for Marissa’s position. He swore there were two or three others he had passed on who boasted similar credentials.

“Do something for me,” I added before he could end the call. “Go through the resumes. Find out how many of the applicants once worked for Darden.” Because there was no guarantee I would have chosen Marissa. He would have sent more than one spy to improve his odds of success.

“I cannot fucking believe he pulled that over on me,” Felix groaned.

“You didn’t know to look for it. Neither did I.” That was as close to understanding as he was going to get from me, and he knew it after years of working together.

Things got busy enough as the day went on that I wound up rolling up my sleeves and pitching in, pulling trays of bread from the oven, assembling baskets, plating desserts. The hours melted away. It had been a long time since I was in the trenches, shoulder to shoulder, working toward a common goal. “Behind you,” I called out, carrying a tray of tart shells to be filled. I didn’t mind the way my pulse pounded. It was a new challenge, and I had always loved a challenge.

It wasn’t until service ended and the last customers left that I was able to come down from the dizzying high, the adrenaline rush. “Behind,” Claudia muttered as she passed with a tray of cake pans fresh from the oven. “This, plus the tray now in the oven, brings us up to count for tomorrow.” She managed to announce all of that without a glance my way.

“Wow. I thought you forgot how to speak to me,” I murmured while everyone was busy cleaning, distracted.

“Let’s get something straight,” she hissed. “Just because you worked with the rest of us grunts tonight doesn’t mean everything’s okay between us. Got it?”

I had no choice but to hold back with so many eyes and ears around us. She would see, and she’d be sorry for jumping to conclusions. The kitchen thinned out before long, the crew leaving one and two at a time. I overheard a few of them talking about getting a drink later, but Claudia politely declined when they opened the invitation to her.

“I’ve still got cake in the oven, you slackers,” she joked. She paired that with a glance my way, though. I wasn’t sure she noticed she looked at me. It was probably subconscious, but it got the point across.

What a relief when only the two of us were left in the otherwise silent room, meaning I didn’t have to hold back any longer. “This is my restaurant,” I reminded her as she checked the oven timer. “I decide who stays and who goes. End of discussion.”

“Could you at least give me the benefit of a heads-up the next time something like this is happening?” she spat, hands on her hips. The girl could glare holes through a man, and she did then, her blue eyes glittering. “Maybe I could’ve taken care of it myself, given her a call. I’m the one who spent the past two weeks with her.”

“Trust me,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t give a shit how she took the news, and she didn’t deserve any comforting.”

Throwing her hands into the air, she released a laugh like mine. “What did she do? Steal something?” She shook her head while swinging the oven doors open, grabbing a towel that was sitting on the prep table to withdraw the tray of finished cakes. “Because honestly, I can’t imagine… fuck!”

The tray crashed to the floor with a deafening clatter, cake pans sliding over the tile like burning hockey pucks while Claudia grasped her right wrist. “The fucking towel was damp! I didn’t notice!” she howled, eyes squeezed shut. Her palm and the pads of her fingers were already turning a bright red color.

Immediately, I took her by the shoulders and steered her to the sink, where I turned on the cold tap and placed her hand underneath the running water. She sucked in one shaking breath after another until I urged, “Breathe slowly. The faster you breathe, the worse the pain is. Calm your nervous system.”

“Easy for you to say,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Dammit, that was so stupid.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered, wincing at the way she winced. “I distracted you.”

“Forget about me,” she grumbled. “Take care of the cakes.”

She would be more concerned about them than about herself at a time like this. I closed the oven doors before finding dry potholders and picking the cake pans up off the floor. Half of them had flipped upside down, their contents falling out and leaving me with a mess to clean up. It was either that or hovering over her, helpless.

While I worked to clean the chocolate from the floor, she continued, “Anyway, it was my fault. I know better than to be so careless.” I looked over to find her grimacing as she examined the burn.

“Under the water,” I grunted. “That’s an order. I know we have aloe gel around here somewhere. It’ll take the pain away.”

“I have burned myself before, you know.” The fight was gone from her voice now. She was softer, a little tremulous, and the sound did something to me that few things could. I had to help her. I had to take the pain away.

There was a bottle of gel in the first-aid kit, and I took it to her along with gauze, tape, and a couple of clean towels once I’d finished washing the floor. “Let me help you,” I urged, checking the clock to make sure she’d had her hand under the water for roughly ten minutes before washing my hands and shutting off the faucet. She winced her way through to me, gently blotting the reddened skin dry. “You might end up with a blister on your palm.”

“Hooray. I’m so looking forward to it. And it’s in such a convenient place too,” she added. I glanced up from where I squeezed the gel onto the wounds to find a tear rolling down her cheek. “I mean, it’s not like I ever use my right hand for every single thing I ever do.”

“I should take you to the hospital, have them bandage you up.”

“No,” she insisted with a sniffle. “It’s not that serious. But thank you. I’m just frustrated.”

“Is the gel helping?” I asked, gently wrapping gauze around her hand until it looked like she was wearing a glove.

Her head bobbed while a brief, shaky smile appeared. “It really is like it’s sucking the heat out. Thank you.”

I looked up from her hand to find her looking at me, her eyes shining with tears, brows drawn together in pain. The thought of leaving her in pain overnight made everything in me rear up in protest. “Do something for me,” I whispered, catching one of her warm tears on my thumb. “Spend the night at my house. At least let me take care of you so you don’t have to use this hand. It’s going to hurt like hell.”