Page 50 of Long Shot

“I agree,” Reese says. “I suggest we go for a California-Mexican cuisine. There’s a lot of authentic Mexican food in San Diego, so let’s not try to do that. I’m not Mexican, but I love the idea of combining native Mexican ingredients with fresh California produce. And dairy. Reimagining other popular dishes.”

Once again, we all shrug.

“That sounds fantastic to me,” Beck says.

Reese’s confidence has us all listening. She has ideas about new menu items but also specials that would change daily or weekly, that would keep things interesting. We also talk about a plan for someone to take over her waitressing shifts so she can focus on the food.

She’s really something. Clearly, she’s in her element. I can’t wait to watch her in the kitchen.

Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?

Yesterday after I went to the beach with her and Jack, I damn near jumped her back at her place. She’s fascinating—trying to be tough and indifferent on the outside, but so obviously in love with that mutt, worried about him in the ocean. And the way she looked at me when I took my shirt off . . . yeah, I noticed the heated appreciation in her eyes at the beach. And then back at her house, when we were so close, those lush tits so near my face. And yeah, I also noticed her hard nipples and the way her breath caught in her throat. There’s a sensuality there, an appetite . . . and not just for food.

It makes sense that if she loves food and cooking, she’s a sensual person—food has tastes and smells and textures. And that sends my mind straight into the gutter, thinking about her taste, her scent, the texture of her skin, the feel of her body against me, around me.

I’m not alone in it. I recognize the same reaction in her.

What the hell are we going to do about it, though? She’s still an employee.

“I’m eager to get working on it,” Reese says as we finish up the meeting, and she heads out front to start her shift.

Beck and Marco linger in the office after Reese and Danny leave, Danny to go talk to Sid and explain the plan to him. We’ll keep Sid on as long as he’s willing to work under Reese and take instructions from her. He’ll probably be relieved.

“So.” Beck leans back in a chair and steeples his fingers. “How’d you manage that?”

“What?” I lean back, too.

“Getting her to agree.”

“Ah. I didn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit.” Marco shakes his head.

“It’s true. Much as I’d like to take the credit for it, I really didn’t. Yesterday we hung out with her dog at the beach, and—”

Beck straightens. “What? You hung out with her?”

“Yeah.” I wave a hand. “Just casual.” I’m lying, but whatever. “I just mentioned once that we still wanted her to take over the kitchen, but that was it. And then somehow . . . she said she’d do it.” I shrug. “I told you I had it covered.”

They both give me a narrow-eyed look. “Okay. Sure.”

I shoot them a shit-eating grin and then all three of us burst out laughing. Beck and Marco shake their heads. “Don’t fuck this up,” Marco says. “Somehow an award-winning chef walked into our restaurant and took over our kitchen. I don’t know what we did to deserve that, but let’s make the best of it.”

“Yeah,” Beck says. “We need her.”

“I know. I plan to offer her foot rubs and feed her chocolate.”

The smiles fade.

“Come on, dudes. I’m joking.”

Marco punches my arm. “Okay. Sure.”

“He’s doing it!”

I grin as Reese jumps up and down on the sand. I stand thigh deep in the ocean as Jack coasts along a tiny wave, all four paws planted on the surfboard. His bright yellow life jacket protects him in case he loses his balance, but I’m right here, anyway.

Reese claps and wades into the water to greet us, holding out her arms to Jack, who decides to jump off the board and swim to her. She scoops him up out of the water and hugs him, laughing. “What a good boy. You’re such a good boy. Did you like that?”

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