Page 11 of Show Off

“I hate the fucking meet-and-greet.”

“Sadly for you, the guests like meeting their chef.” He makes another tick-mark on the chart. “God knows why.”

The man has a point.

“I can take over, Chef.” My sous chef, Simi, steps up to the stove as I set the swordfish under a heat lamp and hit the button to tell the waiter.

“Fucking hell.” I wash my hands, then dry them on a clean white towel. With another sigh, I tug off my apron and trudge to the dining room to do my rounds.

I make it three steps past the host stand when I spot Lana Judson. She’s changed clothes since this morning, and a dark purple dress hugs her curves like a dream. Her blond hair twists back in a fancy updo as she frowns at her phone. A glass of white wine sits off to one side, with an order of my famous truffle fries right beside her. She plucks the longest from the basket and bites off the end, nibbling it down like the world’s hottest bunny.

Why is she so goddamn pretty?

I’m supposed to be out here glad-handing customers, walking around like some jackass, while satisfied patrons heap praise on my tenderloin. Instead, I’m beelining it for the table of the one person here who hasn’t ordered a meal.

“Hey.”

Lana looks up and blinks. “Oh, hey.” There’s that pretty pink tint in her cheeks. Is she thinking about our mix-up this morning? “Sorry to take up a table without ordering an entrée. This reporter cancelled on me, but I’m trying to get my brother here for?—”

“It’s fine.” I wonder which wine she ordered. If I can suggest the perfect meal pairing.

Instead of doing that, I just stand like a dumbshit and stare. I’d probably do that for an hour or two if she weren’t way better than me at small talk.

“Cooper’s not answering, but you know what?” She sets her phone down and props her chin in her hand. “How about I go straight from the appetizer to dessert?”

“Sure.” I wait for her to tell me what she wants. Lana just stares.Shit.“Let me see if I can find a dessert menu somewhere.” God only knows where Ji-Hoon stashed them. I start to turn, but Lana’s voice stops me.

“It’s fine. I know what I want.”

I turn back to face her. “What do you want?” That came out growly and rough, and now she’s looking at me like I’ve unzipped my pants. “For dessert.”

“Espresso, for starters. I’ve got a late call with Australia.” Her smile could melt ice in her water. “And I’d love some of that dessert you had on the menu last week? That little bowl with the ice cream and persimmon jam with?—”

“We’re out.”

“Oh.” She looks crestfallen. “Okay then—how about the lychee cheesecake?”

I nod and turn back to the kitchen, done with my rounds for the next sixteen years. I’m not cut out for this crap. I key in her order, then turn back to dinner prep.

Seconds later, Ji-Hoon rolls in. “What did you say to her?”

“Who?”

He means Lana, of course. “Don’t be a dick.”

Like I know any other way to be. “Mark it on the chart.” I point to the form by the door. “If I get called out for cursing, so do you.”

My brother shakes his head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

Tell me about it.

But I don’t have time to be any other way. We’re here for a fresh start. We’ve got that in spades, and no way am I screwing that up by letting my dick run the show. Lana Judson is too sweet. Too kind, too hellbent on seeing the bright side of everything.

Somewhere between last call and shutting down the grill, I lose track of time. Before I know it, Ji-Hoon rolls back through the kitchen. “That’s the last of ’em. Turned out to be a pretty good night.”

“Huh.” I wash my hands at the sink, conscious of my brother’s eyes on me. Of how close I came to losing him back when— “Hey, bro?”

His wheels squeak to a stop. “Yeah?”

---