Page 41 of Ours to Lose
I sprang from my seat and scrambled out of the booth.
The fantasy hadn’t been real, but my heavy breathing was. Gabe was half out of the booth with me, an alarmed look on his face.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I spun from the table before he could respond and weaved into the shuffle of people, grateful for their cover. Gabe seeing me get turned on while I imagined him fingering me under the table was bad enough. I didnotneed him asking concerned questions while I tried to compose myself enough to come up with an excuse that didn’t mortify us both.
“Oof!” My shoulder connected with someone in front of me, and I reached out to steady us both. “I’m sorry! Are you all right?”
The man lifted his head, and the fevered mess of nerves and arousal burning through my body instantly snuffed out.
He drew himself straight and smirked. “If it isn’t Aubrey Witter.”
“Christian.”
My ex-coworker looked half a tube of hair gel away from earning his supervillain badge. His brown hair was slicked back enough to withstand a hurricane as he stood in a stiff leather jacket he couldn’t quite fill, his skin extra pale in the restaurant’s low lighting.
I was surprised to see him here. Pépère, where Jase and I used to work, was open on Wednesdays, and since Jase had left, Christian was the head chef.
Then again, Christian had never had half of Jase’s work ethic. He probably had whoever the new sous chefs were running things all but two nights a week.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, making a show of looking over my shoulder. “Is Jase here too? That’s all you do, right? Follow him around wherever he goes?”
I smiled back, well-practiced at not reacting to his bullshit. He would have jumped at the chance to slap me with a “hysterical woman” label at the first sign of frustration, and earning respect as a woman in a professional kitchen was tough enough without the sexist stereotypes. “Just here to enjoy the food. I’ll let Jase know you miss him, though.”
He gave a sharp laugh. “You do that. Be sure to let him know I won a James Beard Award too.”
Ah yes, Pépère’s Outstanding Restaurant award. It was honestly a miracle he’d held that in this long.
“I saw the article. Congrats.”
His eyes narrowed with skepticism.
“I mean it,” I said. “You must have done a great job cooking Jase’s menu.”
His smirk dropped. He didn’t deny it, which told me everything I needed to know.
In more than a full year since Jase and I had left Pépère, Christian had yet to improve upon Jase’s menu or find a way to make it his own. Any success he might claim was still only a result of Jase’s actions. First, the menu Jase had created, and then, Jase’s decision to leave. Christian would still be a sous chef if he hadn’t.
I was all too aware Arden Catering was my opportunity to do what Christian hadn’t. To step out from Jase’s influence and contribute something of my own.
I wanted it, and I didn’t. Wanted to make something impactful, to uplevel my craft, but I had no interest in notoriety if it meant standing on a pedestal alone.
All Christian cared about was the pedestal.
“It won’t be Jase’s menu I submit to the Flavor of Philadelphia Catering Competition,” he threw back. “I heard your little Arden whatever applied too. You don’t stand a chance.”
It made sense that Pépère had entered. Most of the names on Jillian’s list were heavy hitters—well-established restaurants run by big groups with multiple locations or celebrity chefs partnered with five-star hotels. Pépère fell in among that crowd more than Ardena did.
Not that it would stop me from wiping the floor with him.
“We’ll see,” I replied.
His lips thinned when I didn’t take the bait. “Let me guess,” he said, sweeping his gaze over of my appearance. It made me want to jump into a bath of sanitizing solution. “You’re here to get Chef Garis to help you with the menu. You really think he’ll give you tips if you bat your lashes and put on a slutty dress? Or is it that Jase won’t screw you, so you’re after any chef who will?”
I laughed. I shouldn’t have, but I did.
Not only because the idea of me pining after Jase was hilarious but also because no chef in this city would believe I slept my way anywhere. The fact that Christian had gone there showed how desperate he was to get under my skin.
“Enjoy your meal, Christian.” I made to step past him, but he blocked my path.
