This was what I’d spent my life dreaming about. Ever since I was a kid in my mother’s kitchen, working alongside her to prepare the family meal. I’d started cooking at a young age. Due to the size of my family, the kids—eight total, including me—had been required to pitch in for everything. Cooking, cleaning, mowing the lawn. I had grown up knowing it was my responsibility to help out. Any arguing would’ve earned us a nice wallop with my dad’s belt. It only took a couple of times before I realized that wasn’t the route I wanted to take.
I had spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mother. She loved everything to do with the kitchen. Cooking, baking, casseroles to cookies, it didn’t matter. She could make a meal for twenty and have a variety of pies to go along with it, never breaking a sweat. Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were always held at her house—to this day—and she never asked for help, although I insisted on being there to offer my services. While I pitched in with the cooking, my sister—who owned a bakery—helped on the baking front.
“I’ve come up with a timeline,” the contractor stated as he followed close behind me. “It’s not locked down at this point, but I think it’ll give you a good idea of what to anticipate.”
The man passed over his iPad and I scanned the screen although I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at. It outlined what I assumed were the steps. Demolition, electrical, plumbing, plus names of people I assumed he had hired to handle it.
Truth was, I was a chef, not a building inspector. I didn’t give a flying fuck about drywall or electrical panels or any of the things necessary to construct the space. I simply wanted to have input on the design as well as full control of the kitchen. I sincerely hoped Ben and Justin weren’t looking for me to provide input on how to get from here to finished product. Not only because I didn’t want to but also because I was bound to fuck it up somehow.
Once I’d given the document a good once-over, I passed it back.
“Honestly,” I told him, “we’re gonna look to you to keep things on track. As much as I wanna help you there, it’s not my area of expertise. However, I will have a say in the kitchen. That’s my domain and I have something specific in mind. I’ll do my best to help out in the interim, but like I said, it’s not really my thing.”
“I was told you’ll be the one signing off on everything,” he stated, his confusion evident.
I frowned. “Who told you that?” I damn sure didn’t want to be responsible. Not for everything.
“He won’t be signing off.”
My head snapped over and I saw Zeke standing in the doorway, his eyes trailing over me briefly.
The man—Jay or Jeff or something—didn’t look happy about that. “I was told—”
“Don’t. Argue,” Zeke snapped, his eyes going cold as he stared the contractor down.
I almost felt bad for the guy. Zeke was a very intimidating man. And the thing was, I didn’t think it was necessarily intentional. He simply came across as the alpha and the omega, the be all, end all.
I had the sudden urge to drop to my knees in front of him.
Not that I would.
Not here.
And certainly not unless he told me to.
“I’m gonna…” I motioned toward the door.
I didn’t know what I was going to do, but standing here wasn’t serving any purpose.
SIX
ZEKE
IT TOOK NEARLY HALF AN hour to get the contractor to finally shut up and listen. While he was making my ears bleed with his incessant chatter, I made a mental note to never agree to fill in for Ben again. Not when it came to shit like this. It might’ve helped if I had cared even a little about this endeavor of theirs, but I didn’t. I wasn’t an uptight hipster foodie. I tended to cook at home and from time to time I would splurge on pizza or a good burger. Sautéing up sauces and herbs that appealed to the palate was lost on me.
Fortunately for everyone involved, the contractor finally took the hint, although it was obvious he wasn’t happy with me. No, I didn’t know where they wanted the dining room or what the layout of the kitchen should be. I didn’t give a flying fuck where the water or gas lines came into the building and I had told him so repeatedly. In fact, we had accomplished exactly nothing by being there.
I’d wanted to give the contractor a piece of my mind. To let him know that it was rude to waste other people’s time. He’d had no real purpose for this visit and that irritated the shit out of me. I did not like wasting time. It was too precious to begin with.
