Page 75 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
He cupped a hand over his mouth. “Right. Sorry.”
I jerked my head toward my office. “Anyway, some help, please?”
Rhett stood and followed me to my office. He grabbed a clean jacket hanging on the back of my office door and held it out to me. “Nico can handle the kitchen tonight. You didn’t need to come in.”
I put one arm in a sleeve, being cautious not to snag my hand as I slid it through. “He could.” The process of helping me dress required Rhett to stand close. So close that breathing became difficult. His warm breath tickled my ear.Don’t kiss him, Hols. You’re at work. Maintain those boundaries.
“MightIhave anything to do with the reason you tortured yourself into coming to work tonight?” Rhett asked in a gruff voice that tugged at my stomach.
“That’s a strong possibility.”
Rhett groaned. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
I slid the other arm into my sleeve, and Rhett quickly spun me around, holding onto either side of my jacket. “No easier than you’re making it on me,” I confessed.
Rhett’s fingers found the top buttons of my jacket. His gaze met mine with desire burning so intensely, I sucked in a shuddering breath. Rhett took his sweet time fastening my buttons. His hands grazed me as he slowly worked his way down the front of my jacket. Every caress caused a riot of flutters in my stomach. Rhett’s breaths turned ragged, like the process of putting clothesonme affected him just as much as if he were taking them off.
Any minute I’d combust. “I prefer your help to my mom’s.”
Rhett smirked. “If you want my help, Holly, all you have to do is ask.”
I’d never make it out of my room clothed, in that case. “Nico should be here,” I choked out. “I should go tell him he’ll be in charge of cooking tonight.”
Rhett stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything else.”
I couldn’t afford to let him touch me again tonight. Not if we were going to prevent everyone else from knowing we were seeing one another. “I will.”
An hour later, with full kitchen prep underway, I leaned against the counter, facing Skye. “So, your Thanksgiving went way better than mine.”
Skye sliced cucumbers. “Considering my limbs are intact, I’d agree.”
“My hands are still attached to my arms. They’re just not usable.”
“Which doesn’t suck for you at all,” she said sarcastically.
“How did you know I didn’t want a break and purposely hurt myself so you guys would have to do all the work?”
Skye threw her head back as she laughed. “Because in the month I’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but prove how well you do your job. You are hands-on, willing to work just as hard as the rest of us, and great at keeping everyone on track. I’ve never worked in a kitchen that operates as smoothly as this one.”
My heart turned into a fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon roll. Rhett had been right all along. By letting my staff see my passion for what I did, mytrue self, they still respected me. I didn’t have to control every little thing in order to have a well-functioning kitchen. And I truly enjoyed learning more about my staff. Steven, one of the line chefs, and I had a lovely conversation about theSix of Crowsseries by Leigh Bardugo last week and the film adaptation on Netflix.
“Thank you, Skye. That means a lot to me.”
“Just speaking the truth.”
“Still, I appreciate you saying that. You’re doing fantastic. I’m glad we met.”
“Me too, Chef.”
With that compliment putting a little pep in my step, I sidled up to Starla, asking her how her holiday had gone. There really wasn’t anything else I could do except encourage my staff and make sure we stayed on top of everything. Since time management and words of affirmation were the only things I brought to the table, the night dragged onforever,just like the way Ham said it inTheSandlot. I wanted to get my hands moving. To chop, sauté, bake, and plate.
I also had to pee, but with no one at the restaurant to assist me, I held it and stopped drinking water. With any luck, I’d sweat out the liquid in my bladder.
Rhett usually stayed out of the kitchen, focusing on customers and the waitstaff. But tonight, he tortured me by making up excuses to come into the kitchen, and every single time my gaze moved to his, my cheeks heated at the memory of both our kiss last night and the way he had helped me dress today.
I think he’d meant to feel me out on where I stood in regards touson Saturday, but I was glad he hadn’t made me wait that long.
By nine, my hands throbbed, my bladder was about to burst, and my mouth was parched. I hunted down Rhett in the dining room, stopping to speak to patrons who shouted out to give their compliments to the chef along the way.
