Page 32 of Chef's Kiss at the Chalet
He bowed his head, thinking on that. “I probably wouldn’t have used the phrase ‘fancy well-to-dos’ but, alright, I see your point. Mistakes were made.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “You can say that again.”
Truthfully, I wasn’t even that mad at him. It was the situation that had me frustrated. And maybe my own impulsiveness a little. A split-second decision had stirred up all this trouble, when the real goal was making some money so I could get to London. I’d lost sight of that in the moment. Never again.
“I get this is really bothering you,” he said gently. “I’m sorry for that. Sincerely. Tell me what I can do to fix it.”
“Leave the country?” I suggested with a bitter smile.
“That’s a thought. On the other hand, I could really pull a dick move and offer to buy you out of your contract. Save you the continued awkwardness.”
I snorted a laugh, glancing up and double taking at his earnest eyes. “You’re kidding.”
He shrugged.
“Just like that. You’d write me a check.”
“I mean, it sounds a little uncouth when you say it that way. But I do feel terrible it’s made you uncomfortable.”
For just a second, the thought was a tempting one. Take the money and run. I’d be set forACEand wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the season worried our secret would get me sent packing early if his mother found out. Yet sitting here, waiting on our dough and having a moment to talk as real people, my resentment evaporated. And I remembered why I’d dragged him back to my room that night in the first place.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Just promise me you’ll keep our secret, and we’ll call it square.”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”
I held up my pinky finger. “Swear?”
He hooked his pinky with mine. “Cross my heart.”
At least that was one less thing I had to worry about. Now, if only I could reason with these croissants.
“What do you think about coffee?” Charles said suddenly.
“I think I’m good with the wine.”
“No, I mean with me. In town.”
“A date? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think? This is already a rather fragile truce.”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“You’re insane.”
“Try not to hold it against me,” he said, smirking.
“Your mother would fire me on the spot. Not to mention it’s just wholly inappropriate. I’m your employee.”
“No,” he said, holding up a finger. “As you said, you’re my mother’s employee. I’m more like an interested third party.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Everything I said in the hotel room is still true. I’m working, and you’re distracting.”
“What if we played for it?” he said. “I’m sure I could scrounge up a deck of cards.”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out last time.”
He licked his lips, dragging his eyes over me. “Oh, I remember.”
Heat flushed across my face and my breath caught in my throat a moment before I turned and grabbed his arm, shoving him toward the door.
