In the Fire (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ethan

I stood in an elevator at the Seattle Four Seasons, watching the floor numbers flash by on the display. Instead of simply being held in a hotel suite, the private dinner was in one of the ultra-swanky private residences located in the top floors of the hotel.
Great.
The winner of the silent auction was not only rich
,
but a pretentious asshole too.

Next to me, a visibly nervous and extra-quiet Tyler held a couple of bags filled with a bottle of wine for each course and some extra fruit for the dessert. I’d had the major ingredients and specialty equipment I’d need sent over ahead of time to make things easier, but I had a feeling no amount of pre-planning was going to make this night easy. I’d originally planned on bringing Claire as my sous after all the shit she’d given me about the fundraiser but she’d begged off, saying she needed a night to herself. Cal had offered to take the night shift after all the crap we’d gone through to get it back up and running, so she was going to take advantage of the unexpected free time. Claire never had plans; she was usually as chained to the restaurant as I was, so I figured a night away from me, the restaurant, everything, was exactly what she needed.

“Relax, New Guy. Rich people put their damn pants on just like we do. One leg at a time. Just follow my lead, okay?” I tried to reassure him but his body vibrated with nerves. I hadn’t told him yet, but for helping me out he’d have an abnormally large amount of overtime on his next check. The restaurant was bleeding money by the bucket right now. What was one more night of pay for Tyler, who’d pitched in on his day off to help me with the Richie Riches who’d bought my dinner services for the night? Even though I hated being in starched chef’s whites, he looked marginally more uncomfortable in them than I did.

When the elevator doors slid open and we walked out into a foyer with only one door at our end of the hallway, I let out a low whistle. The sound turned to a curse when I double-checked the room number we’d been given by the front desk. Hotel residence, my ass. I had a feeling this place was going to have more money and square footage than the damn restaurant.

I knocked on the door, quickly straightening my own pristine chef’s jacket and tried to remember the smiley thing Claire had told me about. I schooled my expression, aiming for less serial killer and more professional. When the door swung open, my smile died.

“What the hell are you doing here, Trustfund?”

Trevor stood there in a fancy suit, smiling smugly as Tyler glanced at me in confusion and asked, “Do you know him, Chef?”

“Unfortunately I do. Fuck this. The dinner is off. I refuse to let this douchebag jerk me around again.”

I shoved my knife roll higher under my arm and turned to walk away, gesturing for a confused Tyler to follow.

“Ethan, wait.”

I froze when I heard Lassiter’s voice.
What the hell?

Tyler glanced back and forth between us, confused as I stared at Lassiter over my shoulder. I whirled on him and demanded, “What’s the deal, Golden Boy? You decided fucking with me would be amusing? Nice of you to have Trustfund here with you for an audience.”

When I finally focused on Jamie, I couldn’t help but stare. The combination of the tailored dark blue wool, crisp white shirt and black tie made his eyes seem even darker blue than usual. After I snapped my mouth shut, I cursed my libido for even noticing him when he’d brought me here just to humiliate me again.

This whole situation threw me for a loop and I didn’t like it.

“In case you haven’t guessed, I was the high bidder, Ethan. No one else. Just me.”

I looked around the room. “Of course you were. Fan-fucking-tastic. How much did the suite set you back? Three million? No wait, five?”

“Nothing, actually. I called in a favor. All I did was bid on you to support the charity and the school. Just like everyone else.”

“Of course.”

His words reminded me of why I was really here. I didn’t think Jamie would cancel his check if I did leave—he wasn’t that big of a dick—but I owed it to Chef B to cook the damn dinner. Resigned to see this night through if it killed me, I gestured for Tyler to follow me into the ginormous suite. “Let’s go, New Guy. We’ve got some motherfucking mouthwatering food to make.”

Jamie’s low laugh followed me, sent heat settling low in my stomach. When I walked into the living room of the suite I stared at the huge space.
Holy shit.
This place
is
bigger than the restaurant.

I wandered into a compact but state-of-the-art kitchen and let out a low whistle of appreciation, rubbing my hand over the shiny white marble countertop. With polished stainless Miele and Sub-Zero appliances, it was like I’d walked into cooking heaven. I eyed them all like some guys might eye a sexy car. The moment of kitchen lust was spoiled when Lassiter cleared his throat. I shot him a glare, annoyed at his amused look.

“Something wrong? I paid a lot of money to watch the famous Ethan Martin in action.”

I shot him a glare and set down my knife roll as I waved for Tyler to start unpacking the few bags we’d brought with us. “You make one
Pretty Woman
joke and I’m gone. Got it?”

Jamie snorted and I felt the urge to simultaneously punch and kiss the hell out of him. But that was Trevor’s job now. No matter what Jamie had said, the fact his favorite lackey was still hanging around proved he’d forgiven him. I rolled my eyes and got to work directing Tyler. I was thankful on one small level it was Lassiter I’d be cooking for so I didn’t have to smile pretty and explain everything to some vapid rich person who had more money than brains.

Tyler smiled at me nervously, and I squeezed his shoulder when Lassiter left the room. “Relax. Remember once upon a time, both Lassiter and I were scared newbies too. And look what we’ve...well, he’s accomplished. If he can do it, you can too. We all start somewhere.”

Tyler was quiet while we worked to get everything out and ready to prep. Most guys at the restaurant liked to talk until I was cranking up the music to drown everything out, including conversations I didn’t have time for. Tyler wasn’t one of them. He had been quiet since we’d first met when I’d found him scrounging for food in the Dumpster behind the restaurant. It startled me when he cleared his throat. “Chef? Can I ask you a question?”

He looked all of his nineteen years as he stood there, the slight trembling of his hands telegraphing his nerves. He was so young and yet so grown-up, and looking at him brought back the memories of fighting for everything I could get.

“Sure. What’s up? Is someone giving you shit at the restaurant? I swear to god I will maim the—”

“No. It’s nothing like that. I just wanted to know why...why all this?”

“I have no clue why we’re trapped in this inner sanctum of Hell cooking for a guy who enjoys torturing me. Probably my lovely karma coming back to bite me on the ass.”

He laughed. “No. Well, yeah. We all have karma to deal with. I guess. But my question was, why me? Why, out of all the guys at the restaurant, did you decide to teach me all this?”

I froze the moment I understood the real question. Why did I give a shit about helping him out when his own flesh and blood couldn’t have given two shits about him? Right then, I would have sold one of my nuts to have Claire in here with me. She handled things like this much better than I ever had or ever would. But Claire wasn’t here, and Tyler had found the courage to ask his grumpy-ass boss an honest question.

“Honestly—and I’m not blowing smoke up your ass when I tell you this—you remind me of me at your age, working my ass off and never knowing when the bottom is really going to fall out. And through it all, I had Claire—even during the times she wanted to plant her foot in my—”

Thank god Tyler laughed, because I wasn’t sure about him, but I had needed humor to help diffuse the emotions swirling in the kitchen right now. I locked eyes with him, willing him to believe what I said next.

“Most of all, you deserved a break. I’ll never be as famous or well connected as our guest in the other room, but I did have the power to help you out back then. And I’ve never regretted it. Not once.”

The silence hung between us until Tyler quietly replied, “Thanks, Chef.”

I exhaled in relief that something I said or did had gone right, then picked up my knife to continue prep. For the next twenty minutes we cut, chopped and assembled a few assorted appetizers. When I had planned the menu, I’d decided to go for a mainly Pacific Northwest theme. Most people enjoyed seafood.

I picked up a tray with the crab cakes with lemon garlic aioli, the small bites of cedar plank smoked salmon I’d arranged with a dill sauce on slices of baguette, and the blue-cheese-and-bacon-stuffed mushrooms. With a wink and an enthusiasm I didn’t entirely feel, I grinned at him. “Wish me luck, kid. I gotta wow the fancy people.”

He tried to smile, then gave up and continued prep for the entree courses as I took a deep breath and walked into the dining room area of the suite and froze. Instead of Trevor sitting next to Jamie smugly, my sister Claire sat sipping a glass of wine. She wore the same dress she’d worn to the gala and a satisfied smile.

“Well, now I know why you were too busy to help me out tonight. Must be rough being Golden Boy’s date.”

Claire smirked at me as she took another sip of wine. “Jamie needed a date for this culinary extraordinaire of an evening and since Trevor couldn’t make it, I happily volunteered.”

I looked down at the table—two place settings. A quick scan of the room showed no sign of Trustfund anywhere. I had no idea where he was, hopefully falling into a cavernous pit of Hell somewhere, but at least I’d only have to deal with one Richie Rich tonight instead of two.

I set the tray down on the table, introduced the appetizers and stalked back to the kitchen. I refused to play into whatever shit Lassiter had cooked up and roped my sister into as well. If he wanted to play Lord of the Manor and be served, fine. But I’d be damned if I’d fawn all over him after this ambush.

I sent Tyler out to replenish wine and drinks but kept cooking, hoping to finish the entrees and get out before my head exploded.

Forty-five minutes later, I finished plating up the entrees and enlisted his help in carrying the main course out to the dining room. This time when I appeared, they both continued laughing and talking and I again regretted the way Lassiter and I had crashed and burned. Claire obviously had missed him and he felt the same. When we’d split and I’d cut off all contact, it had taken away a friendship they’d both cherished. I felt guilt settle in my chest, followed by anger. Why did Lassiter insist on dredging up shit that was best left buried?

I set down the plates of the seared venison and chowder and waited for Claire to finish her thought.

“You should definitely check out the neighborhood we’re in. There are some good spaces for sale right now and I know you’d be able to find a place to remodel easily.”

Spaces for sale? Here in Seattle? What the fuck? I held back my question and focused on the food. What did it matter what I thought? “I’ve prepared for you smoky coffee-rubbed venison and basil pan-seared scallops with garlic rosemary mashed potatoes and sautéed kale with a hint of lemon and balsamic. Bon appetit.”

Claire scowled. “Jesus, E. You don’t have to go all robo chef with the food. This all looks delicious. Why don’t you stay and talk for a minute?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to start on the dessert course.” I topped off Claire’s wine and Jamie’s and headed back to the kitchen, her frustrated sigh echoing behind me.

“Always so damn stubborn, brother of mine.” I didn’t acknowledge her words but kept on going.

Back in the kitchen, I barked at Tyler, “Start cleaning up while I work on the crème brûlée.” His worried glance as he jumped to start washing the dirty pots and pans only added to my guilt over everything. I took a deep breath. Tyler didn’t deserve any of my bullshit tonight. The only person who deserved it was in the other room right now cozying up to my traitorous sister.

I quickly prepped the ramekins with the crème brûlée, slid them into the water bath and popped them in the oven to cook. Afterward I’d caramelize the sugar with the small torch. As soon as I could, I joined him in washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. I was beyond ready to get the hell out of there.

“You did awesome.” I bumped his shoulder with mine as I finished up the last of the pots in the sink.

“Thanks, Chef.” He smiled sheepishly.

“No, thank you for giving up your day off. You can go. There’s no point in keeping you longer when I can get the rest of this stuff back to the restaurant on my own.”

He nodded and untied his apron, handing it to me to bring back for the laundry service. “Have a good night, Chef.”

After Tyler left the kitchen, I plated both crème brûlées and the accompanying sauce. I stuck the torch under my arm, balancing the plates with two fresh glasses and the dessert wine I’d picked out. The fruitiness of the wine would complement the huckleberries in the crème brûlée perfectly.

When I reentered the dining room, I found Claire putting on her coat while Tyler waited for her by the door.

“Stop overthinking this, Ethan. It’s not that difficult of a situation and your brain is going to explode if you don’t calm down. I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I’m going to grab Tyler and go. Cal covered for me at the restaurant so we could both see Jamie tonight. Neither one of us knew what to expect since we just reopened, but I want to stop by and check on him and the staff before I head home.” She leaned up to kiss my cheek softly. “Don’t fuck this up again.”

When she pulled back, she winked at Tyler. “Come on, Ty, let’s blow this Popsicle stand and leave the lovebirds to it.”

While I glared she grabbed one of the bags from Tyler. Still visibly confused, he followed her out the door. When it closed behind them with a soft click, I was left with a very amused Jamie Lassiter. I kept my eyes down on the desserts and away from his as I lit the torch and caramelized the tops of the brûlées, softly uttering, “Fuck,” when I felt him reach across the table.