Page 2 of Good Taste
To be sure, I head over to the white coat to make sure I’m reading the embroidery correctly. Stitched on the right-hand side are the words, “Nick, Head Chef.” Of course! Why am I always attracted to the man in charge?
Chapter Two
Nick
I do not needthe distraction of a beautiful woman right now. I reach for my nicotine gum, wishing I’d waited to stop smoking until after the opening of my restaurant. That gorgeous goddess must’ve been hired as a server if she’s here. I know she’s not any of the inspection crew. None of them could possibly be that fucking hot.
I press my back against the building’s brick wall and try to rid the image of her bright green eyes. The little freckles spattered across her nose. The way that sweater clung to her soft chest, leaving just enough to the imagination to make me instantly hard.
“Fuck.” I mutter, my jaw clamping as I vigorously chomp my gum. This isn’t the time for sexual fantasies.
I have to make sure that the restaurant opening goes off without a hitch. My family’s put so much money into this place that if it fails, I don’t think I could live with myself. I’d be back working for my father, cutting timbre for rich people’s vacation homes. I love working with my hands, but not in that way.
Food is my love language. It always has been.
“What’s up, Chef?” I jump at the sound of a deep voice. Albie, my buddy who runs the coffee shop next door, steps out from the building’s shadow .
“Dude, I didn’t even hear you come out.” I press a hand against my chest.
“I said your name twice.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“I fucking bet. Opening a business is a real fucking headache, but totally worth it my friend.” Albie presses a fresh cigarette between his lips. With the flick of his lighter, my jaw clenches, teeth gnashing into this useless fucking gum.
“How’s it coming along?” Albie asks.
“I’m doing fine considering we still have three inspections to pass, the dinner menu isn’t quite complete, and I lost my pastry chef yesterday to another restaurant in the city.”
“Yikes.” Albie exhales. I try not to breathe it in. “Want some unsolicited advice?” Albie may be only a few years older than me, but he’s gotten me through the thick of the planning stages. He’s a low-key mentor, but I’d never tell him that; he’d never let me live it down.
“Please.”
“You gotta think positive, Nicky. Even if things end up turning to shit, which they won’t, everything always has a way of working out for the best. I firmly believe that we reap what we sow, my friend.” He pushes his pointer finger into my chest. “And you’ve worked your ass off. It’ll all even itself out.” I must make a face, because he steps closer. “But, it all starts up here.” Albie taps his temple.
“You really believe that?”
“Life’s going to hand you circumstances that are out of your control. The best you can do with them is lean in. Trust the process. Know that whatever happens is happening because it’smeantto happen.” I nod as we sit in a comfortable silence. “You know what I’m saying?”
“I do.” I nod again. “I really do, but I wish I could just snap and make it all good.”
Albie smiles. “That, my friend, is what I’m saying. Let go of control and let the universe do its work.”
I press my hands into a prayer position and tilt my head. “Namaste, dude.”
Albie lets out a chuckle, takes a final drag of his cigarette, and stomps it out on the ground. “Trust me, Nicky. Everything happens exactly as it should.”
“Thanks, Buddha.” I roll my eyes, wishing I could let go of the stresses circling my mind, but I’m not there.
Albie shrugs and heads in the back door of the coffee shop. Needing another moment, I close my eyes and take a long inhale. Maybe I should try to lean in. To let go of control and see where it gets me. Maybe I’ll actually get a good night’s sleep. I scoff at the thought. That’s asking too much.
My key card unlocks the door and as I step back into the kitchen that nagging wave of anxiety returns. Over at the sink as I’m washing my hands, I catch sight of that sexy server again. She tugs on the end of her ponytail, then twirls it around her finger. I can’t take my eyes off of her. She presses the back of her hand to her full lips to suppress a yawn.
I can’t say I blame her. It’s a lot to take in. We’ve got some seriously high standards for this place. You have to if you want to succeed. I’m so lost in the shape of her face, her well-defined cheekbones, and soft little earlobes when her head moves in my direction. The world fades around me as our eyes meet.
Shit!I try to look away, but it’s too late; I’m busted. I turn my attention back to the sink, turn off the faucet and dry my hands.
I’ve never been one to fawn over women. Growing up a fat kid kept my attention more on food than girls. It was easier tohide in the kitchen than put myself out there, only to be rejected and ridiculed. Yeah, those days are long behind me, but do we ever really escape who we’ve always been?
