His Forever (His #3) (11 page)

There was something so liberating about knowing we could live our lives exactly the way we wanted.  If we wanted to travel, we would.  If we wanted to start a family, we’d try for a baby.  The possibilities open to us were endless.  Life was good – and I was beginning to see that I really could have it all.  In fact, in a lot of ways I already did.

___

Don’t miss out!  Subscribe to Octavia’s
mailing list
to be notified about new releases!

___

Palate: Spicy by Octavia Wildwood

PREVIEW

I never quite knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, unless my third grade aspiration to become a “ninja astronaut princess turtle” counts.  But I always knew
who
I wanted to be.  When I grew up, I was going to be a strong, successful, powerful woman in control of her life.  Or at least that was the plan.  You know what they say about the best laid plans, right?

At twenty-eight, I was a graduate school dropout and the single mother of a two year old.  When I wasn’t at work, my days consisted of scraping spaghetti off the ceiling, diffusing toddler temper tantrums and trying to teach my son that no, pants are not optional.  I swore that kid would grow up to be a nudist – possibly a nudist who stomped his feet and screamed at the top of his lungs while flinging spaghetti at the ceiling.

It wasn’t exactly the life I’d envisioned for myself.

At least work gave me some reprieve.  I loved my son with all my heart but it felt so good to be around actual grownups.  And being able to work for Hayden Slate was pretty cool.  He was a rather big deal, well known both for his career as a gourmet chef and his philanthropist work.  But to me, he was just my friend Daniella’s husband – and a great mentor.

After seeing Hayden put his skills to use in the kitchen, I guess I was inspired.  I decided I wanted to do what he did someday, although it would take me years to save enough money to open my own restaurant.  In the meantime, I felt lucky to have the best teacher around. 

Except then everything changed.  I wasn’t sure why it still surprised me when life didn’t go as planned.  You’d think after an unplanned pregnancy and a betrayal so severe it still left a bad taste in my mouth, I’d know better. 

Anyway, I was going to be out of a job.  Hayden’s wife was pregnant, you see.  It was a good thing…a joyous occasion.  It wasn’t like my pregnancy.  They’d both wanted it; it had been a happy surprise.  Now that Daniella was nearing her due date, everything was changing.  Hayden decided to spend the next few years as a stay-at-home dad so that Daniella could focus on her own career aspirations.  He said he’d achieved everything he wanted professionally and his focus going forward was simply to be a good father and husband while continuing his charity work.

It was hard to fault him for that.  I told Daniella often how lucky she was, not that she needed reminding.  I was thrilled for her that she’d found such a great guy but sometimes it was hard not to feel a little envious.  When would it be my turn?  I wasn’t getting any younger…  I knew twenty-eight technically wasn’t old, but some days I felt like a dinosaur.

Maybe a great romance just wasn’t in the cards for me.  I had my son and I tried to tell myself that was enough, but sometimes it was tough to shake the feeling of loneliness that came over me in the evenings after I’d put him to bed.  It would be nice to have someone, a partner, to share my life with.  Actually, it would be more than nice.

I tried to look at the closure of Hayden Slate’s restaurant as a good thing.  I’d learned a long time ago that single moms don’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity…at least not for more than five minutes, which is about all the time alone a two year old will give you.  So I took my more-than-generous severance package, paid off my debts and made a bold move.

Literally, it was a bold move. 

I’d taken to watching a reality cooking show on TV on Friday nights because it helped pass the seemingly endless evenings.  When auditions for the next season came around, I put my name in.  And wouldn’t you know it:  I was chosen as a contestant.  It probably didn’t hurt that I’d name dropped on my application; saying you’ve worked for Hayden Slate was like an automatic in. 

The show filmed in Los Angeles, but that was okay.  Actually, it was perfect.  I’d wanted to escape Burlington for quite some time.  The thought of being able to walk around a store or go to a park without having to look over my shoulder, without having to run into
them
, was like a dream come true.  And if I somehow managed to win the fifty thousand dollar prize, it would fast track my aspirations to open my own restaurant!

So I moved the kiddo and myself to Los Angeles, hoping desperately it was the right thing to do. 

And that’s how I found myself a contestant in a televised cooking competition. 

It doesn’t matter who you are.  When you’re standing in a lineup amongst a bunch of other reality show hopefuls with an arrogant celebrity judge staring you down, it’s impossible not to feel intimidated.  But I’d never been one to show weakness.  Defiantly, I raised my chin and stared right back at him.

Gavin Roth was a man whose reputation preceded him.  The gourmet cook to the stars was a household name thanks to his uncensored and somewhat scandalous television show.  He had a commanding physical presence given his tall stature, broad shoulders and signature smirk.  Lots of women thought he was hot and I supposed he was…but for me it was his demeanor that made me weak in the knees.  He had a cocky arrogance about him that simultaneously made me want to crumble at his feet and put him in his place.

“What’s your name?” he demanded, his eyes locked on mine.  It figured that he hadn’t bothered to learn any of our names.  He was probably too preoccupied sitting in his trailer admiring his own reflection in the mirror, I thought to myself with disgust.

The hot overhead lights were glaring down on me, making me sweat.  I wondered if the layers upon layers of stage makeup the stylist had caked onto my face were oozing down the side of it, making it look like I was melting.  That would really be something, huh?  Hey viewers, tune in next week to see the incredible melting woman!

“Mina Sinclair,” I said, my voice sounding much calmer than I felt.

“What brought you on the show?”  His eyes bore into me as though he was trying to read my mind.  It was an invasive feeling that left me flustered and taken aback.  I’d expected to be questioned on my soufflé-making technique, but nothing more personal than that.  I valued my privacy, as weird as that may have been given that I was on a reality show.  I didn’t take kindly to his interrogation-style interview techniques.

Sometimes the simplest answer was the best one.  “I wanted a change.”

“You’re not here for the money?” he pressed, slowly circling me like a vulture as he spoke.

“Well of course I’m here for the money,” I replied as though Gavin’s question was utterly preposterous.  I heard snickers in the audience and they gave me a confidence boost.  A lot of people loved to hate Gavin Roth.  “It’s a lot of money.  Anyone who says they’re not here to win fifty thousand dollars is a liar,” I added boldly.

“You’re feisty.”

“I don’t know about that.”  The verbal sparring was beginning to wear on me.  I wished Gavin would just cut to the chase and tell me whether he was keeping me around for another week or giving me the boot.  But instead he was drawing it out, playing a cruel and sadistic game of cat and mouse for his own entertainment – and that of the viewers. 

“Mina Sinclair,” Gavin said teasingly before trailing off dramatically. 

This was it.  Either I’d be told to hit the road or I’d win a mini-prize of a thousand dollars in addition to being promote to the next round.  Tense music played in the background to add to the mounting suspense.  Colored lights flashed wildly above us, temporarily blinding me. 

Gavin looked at me.  “I have decided that for this week you are…”

I waited, my heart pounding in my chest. 

“Undecided!”

Gasps sounded amongst the live studio audience and even some of the other contestants I was competing against.  I blinked.  “What?”

“You are neither safe nor off the show,” Gavin explained.  “You get no bonus prize money this week.  You’re in jeopardy.  Consider yourself on probation.  If you impress me enough next week I just may keep you around.  But if all you’re good for is one liners and eye candy, then watch out!”

I stared at him blankly as the reality show host interrupted and informed us we were out of time.  As the show’s theme music blasted and the audience applauded enthusiastically, I felt my heart sink.  When Gavin walked offstage I followed him.  It was as though my body had a mind of its own and my brain was no longer able to give it commands.

“Look,” I said once I had Gavin cornered.  “I know to you this is just a show, but this is my life on the line here.  I’ve scrimped and saved to be able to afford to be in this competition.  It’s like having a full-time job and with no income coming in my budget is down to nothing.  Can you please just tell me if you’re planning to get rid of me next week?  If you are, I really need to find a job, like…
yesterday
.”

He chuckled.  “If I had a dollar for every contestant that’s given me a sob story…”

“It’s not a sob story!” I interrupted, feeling insulted that he’d take it that way.  “I’m not asking you for anything.  I’m not begging you to keep me on the show.  I just want to know what to expect.  That dick move you pulled out there tonight wasn’t in the cards.”

He burst out laughing.  “Oh, so now it’s a dick move, is it?  You do have a way with words, Mina.”  He looked at me then, and I mean really looked at me.  “Are those colored contact lenses or are your eyes really that blue?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I snapped.  He was still playing games with me and it was infuriating.  I didn’t have time for it.  I had exactly twenty-three minutes to make it all the way to the suburbs to pick up my son from his sitter’s house.  If I was late I’d have to pay extra, and it was money I didn’t have.

Gavin held his hands up in surrender.  “Look, I don’t give handouts to anyone.  But I run one of the most exclusive gourmet restaurants in Los Angeles,” he said.  “It’s called Palate…maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Well duh, of course I’d heard of it.  But I wasn’t going to stroke his ego and risk making it even more overinflated.  So I shrugged noncommittally and tried not to notice how good he smelled. 

“Be there tomorrow night at 8pm,” he told me as he fiddled with his cufflink.  “I’ve seen what you can do on the show and I think you have what it takes to fit in at my restaurant.  I’ll let you pick up a shift in the kitchen and, if all goes well, I might even put you out on the floor as a server.  We’re always short-staffed on Saturday nights and the tips are good.”

“Thanks!” Gavin was an asshole, but at least he was an asshole with a heart.  Even so, I still couldn’t help but ask, “If you like what I do on the show then why am I in jeopardy?  Why not promote me to the next stage of the competition?”

He gave me a wink.  “I haven’t decided yet but I’m leaning toward keeping you all to myself.  See you tomorrow, Mina Sinclair.  And don’t be late.”

I glowered as he sauntered away.  Gavin Roth was a real piece of work.  I’d figured he’d be like the guy I saw on television:  arrogant, condescending and self-important.  But he wasn’t like the celebrity from TV.  No, he was much worse in person…and better looking.  And now I was working for him.  What had I gotten myself into?