Hungry for You (5 page)

While Cale knew what the words themselves meant, he wasn’t sure what it meant the fellow did exactly, but he tried to look knowledgeable as he gave the young, blond male mortal a nod of acknowledgment.

“Rebecca over there,” Alex pointed to a woman coming out of a small room at the back of the kitchen. She was short and a bit round, with rosy cheeks and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. “She’s the pantry chef and pastry chef, the
garde manger
and
pâtissier.
She’s a dream at sweets,” Alex assured him with a smile.

“Ah, sweets,” Cale said with another nod of feigned understanding.

“Right.” Alex smiled at him brightly and gestured to the wall, where several sheets of paper with typing on them had been taped up. “The recipes we use here are all mine. When I raised Peter to head chef … or
chef de cuisine,
I had to put the recipes up here for him to be able to use … which saves me having to do that now.”

Alex smiled at him again, and Cale thought that she really had a very nice smile. While he could see the resemblance to Sam, Alex had a full figure, her large eyes complementing her pretty face rather than dominating it, and her hair was shorter, a shiny brown bob that fell below her ears and swung around her face as her head moved. He found himself wondering if the dark tendrils were as soft as they looked and had to stick his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to find out.

“So if you want to just take one of the orders waiting"—she gestured to several smaller slips of paper caught in clips on the metal shelf beside his station—"and get started, I’ll stay just long enough to be sure you’ve got a handle on things, and then get out of your way.”

Cale stared at her blankly, sure he’d missed something while he’d been staring at her. Was she suggesting he actually cook? Of course she was. It was what he was supposed to be here for, he reminded himself, and glanced over the foreign objects surrounding him. He didn’t even know where to start.

“Perhaps he should take off his suit jacket. You have an apron he can use, right?” Bricker asked, stepping into the void.

“Oh, yes of course.” Alex shook her head. “I’m sorry. Everything’s so topsy-turvy right now I wasn’t thinking. Here give me your suit jacket. I’ll hang it in my office and get you an apron and hat.”

Cale muttered a thank-you, helping when she began to tug his jacket off, then watched silently as she hurried across the kitchen to her office. The moment she disappeared inside, he turned sharply on Bricker and grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt. “What have you done? I can’t do this. I don’t know the first thing about cooking.”

“Hey, whoa, buddy, I didn’t do this. Sam is the one who told her you were a cook,” he reminded him.

“Well, I’m not,” he said sharply, turning back to his station. “Look at this. What is all this? These knobs"—he twisted one of them, bringing on a quiet hiss, then grabbed up a shiny silver rod with one flat end—"and this … thing.”

“Christ, what are you trying to do, blow us up?”

Bricker muttered, reaching past him to return the knob he’d twisted to its resting place. Cale noted that the hissing immediately stopped. Bricker then snatched the silver thing from his hand. “This is a spatula. You use it to … well, sauté I suppose,” he muttered, then glanced at Cale’s expression and sighed. “Look, these are the controls for the grills. These knobs turn the gas on, but you have to turn them all the way to ignite them.” He twisted the knob, and the hissing Cale had noted earlier started again. It was followed by a
click click click,
and then a whoosh as a ring of flames suddenly exploded to life.

Bricker turned the knob back a bit and the flames lessened, then he grabbed up one of several pans on a shelf beside the grill and set it on the stove. “See, you sauté things in the pan over the fire and spread them around or turn them with the spatula.”

Bricker moved the spatula to emulate what he was describing. “This isn’t as difficult as you seem to think it is. Just read the recipes and follow them. You’ll do great. Trust me.”

Cale scowled with displeasure but quickly pasted on a smile as Alex returned with a white apron and hat in hand.

“Here we are.” She handed him a ridiculous, large white hat and then quickly tossed the top of the apron over his head. Alex then grabbed the strings and reached around him, intending to tie them up for him, but then flushed and stepped back when she realized the position she’d put herself in. Avoiding his eyes, she muttered something under her breath and hurriedaround him to tie the strings from the back. Cale had liked it better when she was doing it from the front.

“There. All set. I guess you’d best get to it. The orders are waiting.”

When Cale stared at her blankly, Bricker snatched up one of the orders and shoved it in front of his face. “This is the first one. Trout Amandine. Mmmm.”

Cale snatched the slip of paper from him irritably and peered at the writing.

“Ms. Willan?”

They all paused and glanced toward the girl who suddenly hurried into the kitchens. Dressed in black dress pants and a wine-colored shirt, the woman obviously wasn’t kitchen staff. She was also upset about something, a frown marring her plain face.

“What is it, Sue?” Alex asked, moving a little away to speak to her.

“What do I do?” Cale asked Bricker sharply the moment she was out of hearing.

“Make the trout,” Bricker said dryly.

“How?” Cale growled. “And what trout?”

Bricker glanced around. “Oh. Right. Hang on, I’ll find it.”

Cale shook his head with disgust as the man hurried off, and then turned to glance toward Alex, catching some of the conversation going on. It seemed one of the waitresses hadn’t shown up for work and they were short-staffed in the dining room. Alex looked stressed at this news.

“Here, I already coated both sides with flour,” Bricker announced, appearing at his side again to distract him,and Cale turned to find him holding out a plate with two slices of floured fish on it.

“What do I do with it?” he asked, accepting the offering.

When Bricker glanced to the sheets of paper, Cale followed his gaze, but all the recipes were for sauces, and there didn’t appear to be a recipe for Trout Amandine. He supposed chefs were expected to know how to make it.

“Hang on, I’ll pick Bev’s brain again,” Bricker said on a sigh.

“Again? “ Cale asked as he started to move away.

“How do you think I found out where to get the fish and to coat it with flour?” he muttered before hurrying away toward the redheaded Bev. It didn’t take him long before he was at Cale’s side again. “Right. Brown the trout in three tablespoons and one teaspoon butter for fouror five minutes, and then turn them and brown for another two minutes. Then you sprinkle them with lemon juice and cook another minute or two while you brown the almonds in another pan, no butter, then sprinkle the almonds and some parsley over the trout and send it out.”

As he spoke, Bricker was dumping butter in a small frying pan and setting it on the grill. He turned the flame on under it, then reached for the plate of trout. Cale took it from him at once.

“I’m supposed to be doing it,” he reminded him grimly.

“Right. You do it,” Bricker said at once, releasing his hold on the dish.

Grunting with satisfaction, Cale took the plate and turned it over the pan so that the fish dropped on top of the pats of butter. The other man immediately sucked in a dismayed breath.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to wait for the butter to melt before you put the fish in,” he said with alarm.

“You didn’t say that,” Cale snapped, and reached to grab the fish back out, but Bricker caught his arm.

“Never mind. Just leave it.”

“A problem?” Alex asked, turning to peer in their direction with worry.

“No,” Cale and Bricker said as one, both of them shifting to hide the fish from her view.

Alex frowned slightly, but then turned reluctantly back to Sue, who, Cale was guessing, was in charge of the waitstaff.

“Here.”

Cale turned to see that Bricker had found a fork somewhere and was sliding it under the fish, trying to mash the butter, presumably so it would melt faster. The action scraped away a good portion of flour from the fish, however, and judging by the man’s curse, that wasn’t a good thing. Frowning, Cale glanced around, spotted a plate with a powdery white substance on it he thought was what Bricker had used to coat the fish, and picked up a handful. Turning back to the pan, he dumped it on the fish, bringing a squawk from Bricker.

“What are you doing?” the man cried with alarm.

“Cooking,” Cale said with irritation.

“That’s not—""Is there something wrong?” Alex asked, and Cale glanced around to see she was coming toward them.

“No,” he said quickly.

“Everything’s fine,” Bricker assured her in strained tones. “You go on and take care of … whatever.”

Alex hesitated, but then her expression went briefly blank before she nodded and moved back to Sue.

Eyes narrowing, Cale glanced to Bricker, not at all surprised to see that his expression was concentrated. He’d given Alex a mental nudge to make her return to her conversation. The younger immortal was controlling his woman.

“Stop glaring at me,” Bricker muttered, turning his attention back to the frying pan and starting to scrape off most of the flour Cale had just put on the fish.

“Stop controlling my woman,” Cale countered.

“I’m just trying to help,” Bricker said grimly, and then cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Cale asked, glancing worriedly at the pan. The butter was melted now. It was also turning brown and bubbling angrily around the fish.

“I put the fire on too high,” Bricker admitted on a sigh.

Cale pursed his lips. He suspected there was more wrong than that the heat was too high. The butter had become a thick, flour-filled soup. He didn’t think it was supposed to be. And, while he was no cook, he was pretty sure the fish was burning. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “Perhaps I should turn the fish now.”

“Yeah,” Bricker agreed, his mouth twisting with dissatisfaction. “Go ahead.”

Cale took the spatula he handed him, quickly slidit under the strips of fish, and turned them. He and Bricker then both sighed unhappily at the result. The fish was covered with blackened flour in places and bald in others, half of the flour coating left behind and stuck to the pan.

“Maybe we should start the almonds,” Bricker suggested on a sigh.

“Hmm,” Cale murmured.

“I’ll find them.”

The man was off at once, and Cale immediately glanced toward Alex again, only she wasn’t where she’d been when last he’d looked. Sue was now gone, and Alex had moved into her office. He could see her through the open door, talking on the phone. No doubt trying to find a replacement for the missing waitress, he thought.

“Here we go.”

Cale glanced around as Bricker returned and dumped a handful of sliced almonds into a fresh pan.

“Just brown them over this flame,” he instructed, twisting the knob to get the flame going. “And I’ll get the lemon to squeeze over the fish.”

“Right,” Cale murmured, thinking that sounded easy enough. A moment later, staring down at a pan full of half-burned and half-raw almond slices, he revised his opinion.

“This cooking business isn’t as easy as it looks,” Bricker commented with disappointment moments later as they peered at the charred trout speckled with parsley and blackened almond slices they had just set on a plate. “Eating is easier.”

“Hmm,” Cale said, shaking his head with disgust.

“How are we doing?”

Both men jerked upright and shifted to hide their efforts as Alex suddenly appeared beside them.

“Good, good,” Bricker assured her quickly. “The first dish is pretty much done.”

“Just one?” Alex asked, her eyes widening with alarm. Her gaze shot to the shelf beside them and the alarm grew by leaps and bounds, making Cale turn to peer at it as well. He frowned when he noted that the number of slips on the shelf had more than doubled. He’d been vaguely aware of people moving past them but hadn’t realized that more orders had been arriving. He’d been too distracted by trying to cook and listening to Alex and Sue.

“It’s all right. Everything is in hand here. You should just go about whatever it is that needs doing,” Bricker said firmly.

Cale wasn’t surprised to see the concentration on the other immortal’s face when he glanced his way. He was controlling Alex again, Cale knew, but this time was grateful for it. The woman had enough problems on her plate without his adding to them. He would never win her that way.

“You obviously have everything in hand here. I should go about what needs doing,” Alex agreed woodenly and turned away, only to come to an abrupt halt when Sue suddenly pushed through the kitchen doors.

“Did you find anyone?” the other woman asked hopefully as she hurried over to slip even more orders onto the shelf.

“No,” Alex admitted, her shoulders slumping with defeat.

“What are we going to do?” Sue asked with alarm. “We’re getting behind on taking orders. Every table is full, Alex. We only have two girls on tonight, including myself.”

Alex reached up to run a hand through her hair with an agitation that brought a frown to Cale’s face. “We’ll just have to—”

“Bricker will wait tables for you,” Cale interrupted.

“What?” Bricker squawked.

He turned on the younger immortal, his expression grim. “You will wait the tables.”

“The hell I will,” Bricker said at once.

“Bricker,” Cale growled, and then caught his arm and urged him along the row of shelving and countertops until they were out of earshot. “I can’t cook.”

“I noticed,” he said dryly.

“Well, it’s not going to improve,” he assured him grimly. “And Alex’s customers aren’t going to be pleased with my offerings … unless someone helps them think they are,” he added meaningfully.

Bricker raised his eyebrows. “You want me to control the customers? ”

“You got me into this,” Cale pointed out grimly.

“Oh, hey, no.” Bricker held up his hands, palms open. “That wasn’t me. Sam is the one who told her you were a chef.”