Page 91 of Long Shot

“Interesting.”

I have no idea what’s going on here. He mentioned a “proposition” and with Bob and Loni here, it probably isn’t a sexual one, so . . .get to the point, dammit.

Graham move his cutlery. “So. I mentioned last night a proposition.”

“Yes.” I smile casually.

“I want you to work at Grand.”

I blink. “What?”

“Grand. That’s the name of the new restaurant. It’s my name . . . first and last, combined.” He grins.

“Right . . .”

“We need a chef de cuisine. I can’t be there all the time, obviously, so I need someone for the day-to-day kitchen duties. Someone capable of executing my vision for the restaurant. We want the best talent for this restaurant. I want you.”

My jaw goes slack and I carefully set down my coffee cup. “Um. Wow.”

“Let us tell you about the concept,” Bob says. “We’ve got a ten thousand square foot space on Ocean Avenue. We’ll be opening in less than a month.”

“Leaving it a little late to hire a chef de cuisine,” I comment.

“We did have someone else,” Graham admits. “But he ended up taking a job with Todd English in Vegas.”

“Oh. So I wasn’t your first choice.” I’m really only teasing.

Graham leans closer. “A very close second, darling.”

“We’ll have an outdoor seating area in the ground floor courtyard, and a patio on the second level,” Bob continues. “The main dining room has a double-height ceiling and natural light from a twenty-foot oval skylight. The whole place is lavish and cosmopolitan—chandeliers dripping with crystals, lots of gilt-framed mirrors, a spiral staircase to the second level, low lighting, very swank, very glam.”

I nod.

“The menu will be multi-ethnic dishes,” Graham says. “I want to focus on shareable plates, tapas style, reinterpreting classics. Chipotle mahi tacos. Heirloom tomatoes and burrata. Pizzettas with summer squash, asadero cheese, huitlacoche cream.”

“It sounds amazing,” I say slowly. “If I’d known this was a job offer, I wouldn’t have insulted you earlier.”

Graham laughs, along with Bob and Loni. “I want someone who can stand up to me. That was my only concern about you. But you’ve grown up a lot since Piccolo.”

“Um, thanks, I guess.” Feeling stunned and dizzy, I don’t know what to say. “I’m flattered that you thought of me.”

“Say you’ll take the job. Working here in that little tequila bar can’t be what you want to do for the rest of your life. I was surprised to see that’s where you are now.”

“Um.” A tightness develops behind my breastbone. “Yes, funny how things work out.”

He leans closer. “This is going to be a fabulous restaurant. In a fabulous city. Do you want to talk money?”

My eyes widen. “Uh . . .”

He names a salary that makes my heart skip a beat. “Sound fair?”

I’m stunned but not stupid. I shrug. “Starting low, are you?”

He laughs again. “Damn, Reese. You have to come work for me. Come on.”

Luckily the waitress arrives with their breakfasts and the conversation pauses while we’re served.

“So?” Graham asks moments later. “What do you think?”

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