Page 41 of Long Shot

She hesitates. “Okay, then. I’m sorry for all this trouble, but I’ll stay out of the kitchen from now on.” She walks out.

Well, shit.

I round the desk and throw myself down into the chair.

That didn’t go exactly like I planned.

It’s not long before Beck comes storming in. “What the hell did you say to her?”

I groan. “Why?”

“She came out of here looking like she’d just been held at gunpoint.”

“I offered her a job as a chef.”

Beck’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“I know, I know, we didn’t talk about it.”

Beck lowers himself into a chair, gaze fixed on me. “A chef?”

“Yeah. Turns out she’s a chef. Worked in a bunch of fancy restaurants in New York. Won awards.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah.”

“But she turned it down.”

“I gather there’s a reason she didn’t tell us that.”

“Ha. I gather there is, too. She said she wanted a change. Less responsibility.”

“That woman owns responsibility.”

“Right? Anyway, first she said she kind of misses cooking, and I thought hey, this is a win-win situation, right? We’ve got an award-winning chef working for us. We need her. She wants to cook. But no, she basically told me to go fuck myself and stalked out.”

Beck grins. “I wish I’d seen her tell you that.”

“Not in those exact words,” I admit. I blow out a long breath. “She seemed upset.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

I stare across the room. “Maybe I can convince her.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’ll just lay it out for her again. It makes sense, right?”

“Yeah . . . I dunno.” Beck rubs his forehead. “Not that I’m an expert on women or anything but using logic might not be the best approach.”

“Reese seems very logical.”

“Sure. But there’s obviously some emotion involved is what I’m saying. That means you need to use caution. Trust me.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Hey, just giving some input.”

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