Page 3 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
He spun as quickly as his rotund middle would allow. The shrewd smile on his face made my heart skip a beat.
“Ah. Chef Holly.”
Dewhurst, I corrected in my head. Although my staff was instructed to simply call me Chef, Mr. Ivy had taken it upon himself to always say “Chef Holly.” Holly was for friends and family, not co-workers, and most definitely not the man standing in front of me.
I clasped my shaky hands behind my back. “Mr. Ivy. What brings you by?” Shockingly, my voice came out even instead of wobbly. He always set me on edge.
He gestured down the hall. “Let’s go into the office and I’ll explain.”
In the dimly lit hallway, and with Anthony’s wide frame, it was hard to tell who stood in front of him. I briefly glimpsed a blond, broad-shouldered man.Who is he?
We walked toward the back offices. Anthony’s expensive leather shoes tapped against the dark hardwood floor. We passed my office and entered the one next to it. Dread filled my stomach.
I stepped into the room, and my gaze locked on the man who Mr. Ivy had blocked. Heat seared my cheeks, trailing a path down my neck and chest.
Well, hello there, handsome.
The tall man dwarfed me in height by a good foot. His blond hair was a little longer than what most men wore, blessed with the kind of natural highlights others spent a fortune to achieve. The left section swept to the side, covering the tip of his ear. He had the ethereal beauty of a fae with the build of an alpha werewolf.
By the way my heart pounded, I liked that look—a lot. Considering the amount of time I spent lost in fantasy romance novels, it didn’t surprise me.
When my gaze slowly met his, his brown eyes sparkled in the canned lights above us. His luscious lips took on a teasing smirk. Scratch that. He was smoldering at me, like a pirate, making my knees turn into gelatin.
I whipped my head toward Mr. Ivy as another wave of heat consumed me, this time with embarrassment over being caught staring at this sexy man.Shoot.Ten minutes ago, I was crying in the bathroom. Were my eyes red and puffy?
Anthony pointed to the newcomer. “Chef Holly, I’d like to introduce you to my nephew, Everett Ivy. He’s the new general manager of The Boardwalk.”
My eyes widened.Hewas the new manager? I’d be working with him every day? Oh, no. No, this could not be happening. I couldn’t work with this extremely gorgeous man. I’d turn into a fumbling idiot and do stupid things, which was not a good thing when working with sharp knives and propane stoves.
Worker’s comp, here I come.
He chuckled, breaking my internal freak out. “Please, call me Rhett.” He extended his hand to me.
I swiped my palms down my chef’s jacket, determined to remain professional, before shaking his hand—his giant, warm hand. “Holly Dewhurst. Welcome aboard. I need to check in with my staff. I’m sure we’ll be speaking again soon.”
Anthony held up a hand, halting my exit. “One more minute. Have a seat.”
Drat.
Everett—Rhett—scooted to the dark brown tub chair closest to the wall. Anthony made his way around the wood desk to the large leather chair. The office exuded importance, with rich, earth-toned decor and brown leather.
I slowly sank into the seat by the door. My polyester dress pants slipped against the slick edge of the cushion, and I slid right off onto the hard floor, landing on my tailbone.Ouch!I swear, karma was out to get me today. I wasn’t usually so clumsy.
“Are you okay?” Rhett asked.
I whipped my head to his. His lips were tucked in between his teeth and merriment danced in his eyes.
Sure, go ahead and laugh it up that the executive chef couldn’t even sit right. “I’m fine,” I grumbled.
Reaching behind me, I used the seat as leverage to hoist myself up. In the process of untangling my legs, a white square stole my attention.
Oh, come on. Really?Could I embarrass myself any more?
That little piece of colored tissue was toilet paper. Stuck to the bottom of my shoe. We were in an upscale restaurant. Why hadn’t they cleaned the bathroom properly? T.P. stuck to your shoe should NEVER be a worry at The Boardwalk.
Completely humiliated, I used the heel of my other shoe to sweep the offensive toilet paper off the toe of my black sneaker and tucked it under the chair.
Rhett leaned toward me and whispered, “Saving that for later?”
