Heat Wave (27 page)

“Yeah they were just out there,” she nods at the shore, “breaching and everything.” She adjusts the brim of her bright pink trucker hat and looks at me. “By the way, what happened to you last night? You just disappeared.”

I try not to smile. “I went to bed early. Turkey coma.”

She seems to buy that and pushes out her belly in a vain effort to be relatable. “I feel you on that. It was awesome though,” she adds quickly. “Your mashed yams are a million times better than my grandma’s mashed potatoes that’s for sure.”

I take the compliment with thanks and hurry back to my room to take a proper shower, all the while my eyes going over the grounds, looking to see if I can spot Logan already. Even though we’ve been apart for, oh, I don’t know, twenty-minutes, I already have that itching need to see him again, like a junkie seeking her high. It’s ridiculous and I don’t even care that it’s ridiculous.

Luckily I have work to distract me and I head into the kitchen earlier than I should, an hour before Johnny is supposed to show up.

Since I started working at Moonwater, I’ve had some creative input in the dishes and a few of them have really taken off. But I haven’t had that kind of urge that used to plague me when I was a struggling chef-to-be. There’s something to be said about the monotony of being a line cook that really gets your mind and heart wandering, dreaming about what kind of dishes you’d be serving and making if the restaurant was yours.

Here, I have the freedom and yet, until today, I haven’t really felt the urge. Maybe because moving here has been such a distraction, maybe because I just haven’t felt that creative push. After all, it’s taken me nearly two months now to really get into the swing of things and know the job and the food and the people.

But with knowledge comes confidence. And with happiness comes creativity. As I stand in the kitchen, taking a look at all our ingredients, glancing over the menu, I can feel everything come together with one jab of inspiration.

I’m thinking about Logan and how hard he’s had to work to get this hotel up and running. I’m thinking about the hardships he’s had to face with Juliet gone. I’m thinking about Juliet and the pride she must have taken in Moonwater, even if she took none in her marriage. I’m thinking about the way Logan looked at me last night, the way he looked at me this morning, the way it felt to have him inside me, wanting me in every single way. I’m thinking about my family here, how people have my back for maybe the first time ever.

All of those feelings are boiling to the surface and there’s only one way for me to express it. I need to create something that would please everyone, that would be bring us all together. I need to make Moonwater’s signature dish, something a bit salty, spicy, sweet. Something that tickles all the senses and makes eating the pleasure that it should be.

I get to work. I don’t even think, I just run off of this creative juice that’s replaced my blood. I think of plumeria flowers and creamy sand beaches and salty-breezes and the freshest fish. I think of eating fruit; fresh mango from the stands in Hanalei, the juices running down my arms and pulling over in Charlie’s truck to buy green coconuts that you drink from the shell. I think of humpback whales frolicking off shore, happy to be alive in these warm waters, thriving under the sun.

By the time Johnny comes in for his shift, I’m done and staring at the plate with a discerning eye, not sure if what I created is total garbage or not.

“Aye, Ronnie,” Johnny says, grabbing his apron off the wall. “You’re here early. What are you doing?”

“Honestly I don’t know,” I answer absently, still searching the dish for some sign that it’s edible.

“Is that Mahi Mahi?” he asks, bending down to sniff it. “My god, that smells amazing. What did you do?” He’s practically salivating.

“Try it,” I tell him.

He purses his lips together, frowning. “Is it laced with arsenic?”

“Just do it. I haven’t tried it yet. I have no idea if any of it works.”

He shrugs. “Well if it tastes even a fraction as good as it smells,” he says, grabbing a fork. He eats like a tasting judge would, getting a little bit of the fish, a little bit of the rice and a little bit of the sauce and flowers.

I hold my breath as he puts it in his mouth and after one chew, his eyes are shutting and the most orgasmic noise comes out of him. I never thought I’d see Big J’s O-face and it’s mildly disconcerting.

“What the hell is this?” he asks incredulously and when he opens his eyes, they’re dancing.

I try not to get giddy. “I wanted to create Ohana Lounge’s signature dish. So this is it, the aptly named, Ohana Mahi Mahi.”

“Is that a macadamia nut sauce and…?” His eyes close again as he tries to place it. “Cinnamon? What? Nutmeg.”

“I crusted the Mahi Mahi with red salt and a bit of nutmeg-laced panko for the salty, crunchy aspect, then created a macadamia nut sauce spiced with cinnamon for a nice mouthfeel and creaminess, then the mango and lilikoi sauce is the tart component. The flowers are just for show, though perhaps we could use orchids so they’re edible. The rice I figured we would leave plain or maybe add some spice for added heat or furikame. Whichever works.”

By now I’m not even sure Johnny’s listening, he’s nodding and has practically cleaned the plate. “This is perfect the way it is. Logan is going to flip out.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, beaming at the sound of his name.

“Oh yeah. He’s been wanting a signature dish for a long time, a reason for people to come here.” Johnny starts licking his fingers. “This will be pricey, the macadamias are going to drive up the food costs and the Mahi Mahi is market price…”

“Then we won’t give it a set price, we’ll go on the market price of the Mahi, and then raise it a few from there. That way customers are liable to spend a bit more if they know it’s not really us raising the price. Plus, we can adjust it that way.”

“I like the way you think,” Johnny says. “Veronica, I knew you had it in you. Those calzones you made were just the tip of the iceberg. Keep them coming. All the time. You have an idea, don’t even ask, just do it. At the very least, I’ll be here to eat it.”

I’ve honestly never felt prouder. Now I want,
need
, Logan to come in here and try it. I want him to see just what I can do, not just in general, but for his restaurant. This is nothing compared to whatever I cooked for him at Piccolo.

“Hey where were you last night anyway?” Johnny asks as he switches on the radio. Low and behold, “Purple Rain” comes on, which gets another smile out of me. Logan’s favorite song.

“Decided to head in early,” I tell him, swaying slightly to the song.

“I saw you at the bar. Looked like you had a pretty heated argument with Daniel,” he says innocently.

“We weren’t arguing.” I’m quick to shoot that down.

“Well you were talking about something that looked very important.”

I shrug. “Just discussing Juliet.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup,” I tell him. I smack him on the shoulder. “Stop being so nosy Johnny and get to work.”

He rolls his eyes.

The rest of the shift goes really well. The restaurant is full and everyone seems in a really good mood. I meet Daniel’s eyes every now and then as I pass the bar to the toilets, and I can tell that he’s afraid I’ve ratted on him to Logan. I try and tell him otherwise.

At the end of the night, when the last order has gone out, Logan clears his throat from behind us.

Johnny and I turn around to see him standing in front of the swinging doors of the kitchen.

“What’s up, Mr. Gruff?” Johnny says with a wave.

“Mr. Gruff?” Logan repeats, coming into the room and walking toward me. It seems my nickname for him has spread.

As always, Logan looks like a breath of fresh air. Even dressed simply, a black t-shirt that shows off his tanned muscles and olive green cargo shorts, he manages to skirt the line of being rugged and playful, manly and elegant. When he looks my way, he starts smiling, small at first, then spreading across his face, his perfect teeth white against his golden skin.

Obviously I can’t help but smile back.

And now Johnny is looking between the two of us. “You all right Shephard?” he asks warily. “I can see your teeth. Are you…smiling?”

“Fine, just fine,” he says. “Wanted to come in here and see how you guys were doing.”

“It was a great night,” Johnny says.

“Great night,” Jin agrees from the sink where he’s been working diligently and quietly, as usual. Then he speaks up. “Ronnie made a new dish. The Ohana Mahi Mahi.”

Logan stops right in front of me, raising his brow as his grin spreads. Good lord, his smile can bring me to my knees. Everything inside me feels like it’s blooming, warm, hot, fizzy, like champagne. I want nothing more than to just wrap my hands around his neck, feel his skin, kiss his smile. Feel the strength and warmth of his body against mine. I want to ride him to oblivion again. I want all the things that I never thought possible until last night.

“Uh, Ronnie,” Johnny speaks up. “You going to tell him or am I?”

I blink, my cheeks going hot as I look over at Johnny. “Huh?”

He’s scrutinizing me with a coy wariness, looking between the two of us. “Tell Shephard what you made.”

“Oh right,” I say, looking back to Logan and meeting his eye. “Um, well, actually I’m not sure if I should tell you or just make it for you.”

“I would be honored if you made it for me,” he says. “How about tonight?”

“Phhhfff,” Johnny says, waving his hand at Logan. “Tonight? Give the little
wahine
a break, aye. Her shift is over and you’re not a slave driver.”

“No, I honestly don’t mind,” I quickly say. “I could do it right now.”

Johnny makes a noise of disbelief. “Well I’ll be, hell is freezing over. Ronnie is volunteering to make the
habut
some food, overtime.”

“Not overtime,” I tell him. “Just for fun.”

“Okay, now you’ve really lost your mind.”

“I think we’re all allowed to lose our minds from time to time,” Logan says. His eyes are burning into mine, reaching into my core and stoking the flames I’ve been trying to ignore all night. “Here, let me help you clean up.”

“Okay,” Jin says, poking his head around the corner. “Who are you and what have you done with Logan Shephard?”

Logan laughs and even that seems to scare everyone. I can try and hide our relationship, or whatever this is, from everyone here, but with Logan acting like a whole new human being, it’s not going to be so easy. Thankfully Johnny and Jin aren’t the type to jump to conclusions. They’ll first assume that Logan’s been abducted by aliens and his body has been shuttled back to earth, controlled by a robot.

And though it’s an odd proposition, none of us usher Logan out of the kitchen because we can use the extra hand with Charlie being gone, plus I think the guys get a certain thrill of seeing their boss roll up his sleeves and get down to the dirty work.

As it happens, with Logan’s help, we’re done a bit early. Johnny and Jin leave the kitchen in a hurry, as if they think Logan will pull a 180 and haul them back into work.

It’s just him and me here now. Out in the restaurant we can hear Daniel talking in a low murmur to Johnny and I think Kate, serving them drinks.

I turn to Logan, clearing my throat.

“So,” I say, keeping my voice low.

“So,” he says, taking a step toward me until all the space between us disappears. He runs his fingers underneath my chin and raises it so I’m looking at him in the eye. He smells like my dreams, that musk that runs deep into my veins, a chemical reaction. “Is it that obvious if I go and bar the kitchen door?”

“Afraid so,” I tell him.

“You have no idea how long this day has been,” he whispers to me. “I can’t quite believe that last night even happened. I might need you to prove it did.”

I bite my lip, playing up the look of the coquette. “That can be arranged. Anywhere but in here.”

“We can go at any time,” he murmurs, leaning over until his mouth is at my ear. “I can go at any time.”

Jesus. Just his hot breath, his words, and I’m transported back to last night. I don’t blame him for thinking that last night – and this morning – was a dream. This man had tasted me,
licked
his fucking fingers. He told me he wanted to fuck me with his mouth and then he fucking
did
. Not only a dirty talker, but a man who follows through.

“I think they would suspect something,” I manage to say, “you know, when they walk in here and find us fucking on the floor.”

“God,” he says, licking up my neck, a slow, languid pace to my ear that makes me shiver. “Don’t talk like that.” His hand slips down the side of my waist, down to the front of my work pants and starts sliding underneath the waistband.

“I think I’m supposed to make you a famous meal,” I manage to say.

“I think you’re my meal.”

I put my hand at his chest and push him back an inch. “I’m serious. I made something tonight that you’re going to be proud of.”

He cocks his head, studying me. “I already am proud of you.”