Page 21 of Unexpected Pickle
Vera returns with a bright white cloth and lays it over the first aid kit.
“Is this going to mess up your fights?” she asks. “It could break open if you hit someone.”
“I’m used to a little blood,” I say. “And we wear gloves.”
“I know,” she says, then her face does something I’ve never seen. It goes pink, flushing across her cheeks.
She’s blushing? Why?
She presses the towel against my skin. “I’m going to dry this quickly and bandage it.”
I wait as she opens a bandage package with her teeth.
I don’t think first aid is high in her skill set, as she somewhat awkwardly frees the backing off the adhesive and applies it to my skin. “There.”
“LikeBeauty and the Beast,” I say.
Her head pops up. “How so?”
“Remember how she tends his wounds?”
“But I was the one doing the roaring. I’m the beast in this scenario.”
Is that what she thinks? “No, you’re definitely the beauty.”
Her lips press together so tightly that her dimples pop. “Hardly.” She backs away. “But you’re good.”
“Good at what?”
“Compliments. I’m just immune.”
Is she? I hope to test that theory. “Do I get a reprieve from being kicked out for my trouble?”
She stares into my eyes, and the full force of having her complete attention hits me. I might be able to squat 450, but these knees feel as weak as a kitten at the moment.
I can’t wait for Montreal.
And because of this bigger goal, I need to make my retreat despite what I said. “Never mind. Thank you for the bandage.” I hold up my hand. “And I wish you safe travels to Montreal.” I give a bow.
She watches me as I leave the kitchen. I’m careful not to look back.
All I can hope is that maybe, between the crepe cleanup and this strange incident with the knife, I’m in an excellent position to get closer to her on our unexpected getaway.
8
JEANNIE TURNS TO ICE
I’m more tired than I care to admit as I wait at the entrance of the boutique hotel amongst the snow-covered trees an hour outside of Montreal.
The awards ceremony was a beast of an event, and while I felt energized and excited while there, I didn’t get off from the kitchen duties until five in the morning.
But I wanted to see downtown Montreal before I left the city, so I trudged through the day on no sleep.
Then it was like I was too awake, so I had trouble settling in last night. I got maybe five hours in before I had to pack up and head to the shuttle that would drive me out to the new hotel.
Now it’s midafternoon and I need a nap.
A man in a blue cap brings me a rolling cart. “Chef Young?”
