Culinary Delight (2 page)

Guilt rammed my chest, clutching my lungs as I met Carlos’ gaze. He earnestly wanted me to like it. I bit my lower lip. “I’m really sorry, but it’s just not there.”

“No problem.” He appeared ready to cry for a split second before masking it. “I will have Rico rush you a new plate.” He removed my plate and seemed to brace himself as he focused on Rachel.

Rachel gave him a quick smile before lifting the
empanada
to her lips. Her first attempt to bite into it wasn’t fruitful. The outside was extra crisp, creating a hard outer shell, but the inner part of the dough was probably not fully cooked.

She went in a second time with more oomph and tore off a bite that was exactly as I feared. They’d been cooked too fast at too high of a temp.

Yup. Total food snob here.

Rachel plastered a smile on her face and overzealously ate the piece.

Carlos winced. “I’m terribly sorry, ladies. I’ll see that your orders are remade.” He grabbed Rachel’s plate and rushed towards the kitchen.

Rachel and I both frowned. “I feel bad for him,” she said, glimpsing back at the kitchen.

“How long have they been in business?”

“A couple months. Business was good at first Rico said, but it didn’t last. And now the owner, his cousin I think he said, is in the red big time. He can barely pay his employees and he stands to lose his house and the business if it fails.”

“Yikes. That’s rough.”

She nodded her head emphatically.

Twenty-five minutes later Carlos returned with a fresh set of plates.

“Again
, my sincerest of apologies, ladies.”

My body seized with anticipation, with fear as he came towards us.
God please let it be decent this time.

My hope plummeted the moment he set the plates on the table. The color still wasn’t right. A glance at Rachel’s food showed it may or may not be cooked right.

This time she cut into it. The dough still wasn’t full cooked.

“I’m so sorry. This is embarrassing.” He scrubbed his face. “Rico!” he yelled. This time when he looked at me, I saw the stress in his otherwise handsome features. His cheeks were sunken in a tad; there was discoloration beneath his eyes and his brows never fully relaxed. “Please try yours.”

“I’m sorry, but I can already tell without trying that it’s not right.”

“No you can’t.” Arrogance was in his every
step, every stride of pure muscle and hotness moving towards me. His head was held high; his brown hair was tied back, intensifying his features. His chiseled jaw hinted at a five-o-clock shadow. Pouty lips that made me bite my own were the only thing soft about him. Dark eyes pierced me as he approached, challenging me cockily. He believed he would win any argument I gave.

As much as I hated to admit it, he looked more delicious than this food, but I wasn’t going there. I turned my focus to Rachel. “You agreed I wasn’t going to be held responsible.”

She groaned. “Put up your dukes, Rico. Molly hits hard.”

He grunted, looking me up and down. “I can take her.”

“Rico,” Carlos snipped.

“Relax, cuz.” He pressed past Carlos and leaned into me,
one hand resting on the table, his other on the back of the booth, keeping him suspended before me, up close and personal. He slit his gaze. “Tell me from appearance what this tastes like, Molly.”

Damn my body for reacting to the way he said my name. He revved my engine
, warming my intimate bits, enticing my prowess and infuriating me all at once. He needed some woman to come along and burst his ego bubble.

I crossed my arms over my chest, meeting his gape head on. “The rice will taste like over salted white rice with un-sweet peas. The color you added this time around was with seasoning salt. And the pork chops probably started out with seasoning but it disappeared in the pan of oil you cooked it in. You have too much oil in the pan and the temp isn’t high enough to properly sear the outsides and hold the flavor. You’ve served me a greasy lump with a side of taste bud killer.”

His lips quirked just enough to tell me I amused him. “
Nena,
you’re a
gringa.
What do you know about cooking my people’s food?”

My blood boiled, burning through my veins. I clamped my hands into fists. I wanted to smack the smugness
right off his face. “Is the owner here?”

He snickered. “You’re right next to him,
gringa.
” He jutted his chin towards Carlos.

No wonder he
had paled every time something was wrong.

“Mind if I use your kitchen, Carlos?”

He opened his mouth like he was going to object. He scanned the room, his forehead creasing. With a sigh, he conceded. “
Mi cocina es su cocina,
Molly. But please, be careful. I shouldn’t be allowing this. Health codes, worker’s comp if you get hurt…” He scrubbed his jaw and neck in one fluent motion of discomfort.

“I’ll be careful. I just need to show Rico-wanna-be-suave over here what his people’s food should taste like.”

Rico stepped back, throwing his arms up in a challenge manner. “Let’s go,
gringa.
”

“Oh no. This is a contest. Everyone needs to try your monstrosities before they taste mine, including you.”

“I so did not plan for the night to go like this.” Rachel sounded giddy, amped up as if she was about to watch an aggressive sporting event. She slid over. “Take a seat, Carlos. Molly’s about to knock your socks off.”

“Carlita, lock up, will you?”
He called towards the hostess. He sat down beside Rachel and grabbed a fork. He winced at the rice hit his tongue. “
Dios miyo, primo!
Esta
-” His features twisted in disgust. “She was right.”

“Hey, I never said I was chef. You were in a bind. I covered your ass. You should be thanking me.”

Carlos dropped the fork. “My chef ran off overnight with his girlfriend. He moved up north without notice,” he admitted.”

“Well, relax. I’ll remake these dishes the way they ought to be made.” I cut my eyes at Rico.

Rico had the audacity to smirk. “I’ll make sure the judges go easy on you.”

“They won’t need to. I know you’re looking at my blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin thinking that I know nothing about anything outside the continental United States, but take a seat, bud, because I’m about to kick your culinary ass.” I slid out of the booth, glaring darts at him the
entire way.

“This is gonna be good, Carlos. I’ve only seen Molly’s eyes spitting fire like that one other time and she kicked her cheating ex-husband’s ass. Don’t worry though, she’s not usually violent.” Rachel was enjoying every minute of this.

I had to admit, some sick part of me was too. Adrenaline coursed through me. I was hyperaware of him, the way he watched me.

“You’re cute when you’re all hot and bothered.” He winked, slinking past me to sit where I was. “Don’t burn down the kitchen.”

I huffed, stomping childishly towards the back. The man was infuriating yet my pussy throbbed as if it wanted to take him on. My breasts had perked, all of me responding to his challenge.
Dammit.

Everything was stainless steel from the cabinets to the counters and appliances. It took me some time to locate everything I needed. Half an hour later I was beginning to plate the meal,
certain my face was red from standing in front of the heat. I chose a bad night to wear skinny jeans and a fitted, if a bit low cut, black top. At least I was wearing ballet flats.

Midway through I’d thrown my hair up into a messy bun. It was worth it though. I was happy with the end results.

I got the feeling the only reason why Carlos agreed to let me cook was because he felt like he was going to lose his restaurant anyways. He literally had nothing else he could lose at the moment, which made me all the more determined to make him something amazing.

I pu
t a simple cilantro garnish on the dishes. Making sure everything was off and put away, I grabbed the plates and headed back to the judges.

“Took you long enough,
gringa
.” Rico took me in as I approached. If I wasn’t already red from the stove, I know my cheeks would have shown my reaction to the way he looked me up and down.

“Because I didn’t use any of your prepped crap,” I shot back.

I set the plates on the table beside his. “Take a look at the color on my plate.” I beamed.

“This looks good, Molly,” Carlos said, inspecting the dishes with the others.

“Yeah. Sorry, Rico, but Molly’s looks way more appetizing.”

He sneered. I couldn’t tell how much was real and how much of
his attitude was show.

I couldn’t bite back my smile. I couldn’t wait for the judges to pick me.

I glanced at the hostess station.

“I sent her home,” Carlos stated.

I nodded before focusing on Rico. I cut my eyes at him. “Scoot your butt over.”

Thankfully he didn’t make a fuss and made room for me.

“Holy shit, Mol. I forgot how well you cook this stuff.” She spoke around a mouthful of rice.

Carlos took a small bite. His brows rose. “She nailed it,
primo
.” He quickly scooped up another bite.

I knew I looked as smug as Rico did in the beginning.
“I’m sorry, what was it you said? That this
gringa
didn’t know anything about cooking your people’s food? Hm.” I turned my nose up, smiting him with my elbow.

He dramatically pulled the fork from the last rolled silverware set on the table. He dug his fork in, watching me the entire time.

Electricity sizzled between us. I was just waiting for the rubber band to snap.

His attention fell to the food then back to me. “Not bad for a
gringa.
” He didn’t sound impressed, but then again, I didn’t picture him being the type to compliment. He didn’t give them; he took them.

Molly and Carlos each took an
empanada
. Carlos paused with the food in his mouth. The moment he swallowed, he asked, “What do you do for a living, Molly?”

“I’m a paralegal.”

“Did you go to culinary school or take any classes? This is really good.” Rachel was right. Carlos was nice. He looked good, but he wasn’t full of himself. He was very humble. I found myself rooting for him. I really wanted him to succeed.

“No. Cooking has always been a hobby.”

“If the paralegal thing doesn’t work out, you have a strong back up.”

I smiled, my heart warming under his kindness. “Thank you.”

“It may not work out as early as Friday. Molly’s firm is making more job cuts.”

I glared across the table at her. “Rachel.”

She shrugged. “You might need a job and Rico might need a trainer.”

Carlos cut into the pork chop, watching as the juices oozed from it. I waited for the flavors to hit his tongue. “
Ay que rico; ‘ta perfecto,
Molly. I’ll fire Rico right now if you’ll take his place.”

“Hey! I’ll admit it’s good, but really cuz? You’d do your own blood like that?”

I chuckled. I patted his shoulder. “Did it hurt?”

“
Nena,
someone needs to take you over their knee with that mouth.”

“Molly doesn’t do that kinda kink,” Rachel stated.

I was going to murder my best friend and a cocky, sexy stranger in one night.

Rico turned in the booth, leaning back against the wall, an
empanada
in hand. “Oh yeah? What kind of kink does Molly do?” His eyes glittered with mischief.

The intensity of his focus on me combined with the teasing upturn of his lips sent heat racing through me, pooling low in my stomach. I could all-too-easily picture him with that same intensity in the bedroom.

“She likes alphas that don’t take it to a kinky extreme.”

Yup. Definitely killing her tonight.

I crossed my arms over my chest, partly for comfort and partly to hide the fact that my nipples had begun to perk. The longer he stared at me like that, the harder it was to sit still.

“Don’t worry. I won’t jump your bones,
gringa.
”

When did he move so close? His breath tickled my ear, sending tingles down my neck. My pussy pulsed.

I hated him. I wanted to slap the shit out of him. Admittedly, - only to myself of course - I also wanted to strip and beg him to fuck me hard and fast with the same intensity his gaze promised.

I shuddered. I’d never responded to a man like this. Why did it have to be him?

“You okay, Mol?”

“I think she’s a little overheated.” Even his laugh was smug.

Damn him.

Damn my body for reacting to him.

“Stop antagonizing her, Rico. She’s the one who’s going to save your job, hopefully.” He swallowed the last bit of his pork chop. “Would you be willing to show Rico how to cook this stuff and any other Puerto Rican dishes you know? I can’t afford much, but I’d work around your schedule and get you anything you needed.”