Page 15 of The Cupid Chronicles

“No,” she quips, “because you never give compliments.”

I shrug. People don’t usually deserve them.

She scowls at me. “Yes, the produce arrived. It’s all ready for you.” She motions for me to hand over the empty plate, and as I do, I don’t miss the disappointed expression that seems to indicate I’m going to get an earful later.

I look at Nicola, who’s moved on to washing raspberries. I feel a nudge in the back of my mind that feels like Aria. I walk over to Nicola. “Good job, Nic. Really.”

She looks over at me, eyes wide. “Well, thank you, Chef!”

Val quirks a brow that seems to ask,Now, was that so hard?

I make a mental note to be more complimentary.

It’s not that I don’t value the staff—I do—but I get busy and distracted and forget to let people know. It’s something Val has brought up more than once. It’s why she’s here—to keep everyone on task and point out shortcomings, even mine.

She’s one of two people in the world I trust to do that.

The other is most likely tanning on a veranda in Tuscany.

I walk over to the counter where Val has stacked the produce. I look through the carrots and potatoes and leeks, making sure we’ll have what we need for today’s lunch and dinner service.

“So, Chef . . .” Nicola says from behind me.

“Yes, Nic.” I don’t turn around. Instead, I pull a small notebook from my back pocket and look over one of the new recipes I’ve been working on at home—maiale al latte—a milk-braised pork loin.

“Val and I were, um, we were just talking . . .”

I don’t even have to look at her to know where this isheaded. I can tell by the cautious tone of her voice. “Not interested,” I say.

“You don’t even know what she’s going to say,” Val says in a reprimanding tone.

“Did you call in extra help for the weekend?” I ask, moving the potatoes from a basket to a colander.

“Don’t change the subject,” Val says.

“We have that big bridal party,” I say. “We’re going to need more wait staff.”

“Yes, I called in more help,” Val says. “Can you just listen to Nicola for five seconds?”

I sigh. “I don’t need to listen. I already know what she’s going to say.” I look up at Nic. She looks back, eyebrows raised, face hopeful.

“She’s wonderful,” Nicola says. “I promise.”

“Not interested.” I move the colander to the prep sink and run water over the potatoes.

“Why?” Val asks. “Just go out for a drink. You don’t have to marry her.”

At that, my jaw tenses. “I don’t have time.” It’s technically true, but it’s not the reason I don’t date.

They know this.

“We both find time,” Nicola indicates to herself and Val.

“You don’t own a restaurant.”Or have my history.I turn the water off, then repeat the process with the carrots. “And Val doesn’t date.”

“I date,” she says.

“You’re married,” I counter. “And Bear works here.”

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