I should thank Killian for those difficult years. He’d given me the tools for success that I planned to use to climb my way to the top of this city’s culinary upper echelon. He’d helped mold me into a competent, experienced chef. He’d promoted me to one of his coveted sous chef positions and demanded perfection and because of that I was confident I could produce perfection.
Still, I’d lived over four years of my life balancing the growing pains of maturity against trying desperately to not cross his line of fire. I’d seen him at his worst, throwing dishes across the kitchen and snarling at anything that breathed near him. And I’d seen him at his best, earning awards and stars and accolades from the most important organizations and people in our industry. He was hardheaded and cocky, but also fair and talented, and pretty much a genius with food.
He was everything I wanted to be. That said, walking into the restaurant that he’d abandoned Lilou for was like some kind of religious pilgrimage for me. A restaurant like Salt was the big goal, the destination. I was convinced this was what was at the end of the long, arduous journey I was willing to struggle my entire life to reach.
I had no false hopes that I would be able to accomplish what Killian had in the time that he had accomplished it. Killian was kind of a freak when it came to success. I was on the right path and I needed to remember that.
My fingers trailed reverently over the bright blue doors that opened into the main dining room of Salt. They were the only bright spot of color in an otherwise starkly white layout. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the rest of the space.
The restaurant might as well have been glowing with an angelic hue for all the wistful and slightly jealous emotions rushing through me. It was the first time I had been inside, and the first time I realized it was so close to completion.
Vera and Killian had both left amazing jobs—dream jobs—to pursue opening a restaurant together. Killian had abandoned a lot of his claimed awards by leaving Lilou, ones that were specific to Lilou’s kitchen. Vera had given up her food truck for this. And they had no guarantee that it would succeed.
I was as impressed with their persistence as I was worried for them. They were both unquestionably good at what they did. But was good enough?
For a lot of great chefs, it wasn’t. There had to be more than good food to make an acclaimed restaurant. Where the real awe in my assessment came from was the “it” factor they had nailed with the décor and ambiance. Between the big wooden rafters and the garage door walls that would open to the outside during the warmer months, I already felt comfortable in this space. I already looked forward to the food. I was already planning girls’ nights out here. I couldn’t wait to book a reservation and discover the menu.
They’d nailed it. And I tried not to hate them for it.
“Hello?” I called out when I realized I’d been standing frozen on the stone entryway floor for long enough. “Is anyone here?”
Dillon popped her head through the swinging kitchen doors and waved me back. “We’re in here.”
My eyes dropped to the mug in her hand. “Is that coffee?”
She smiled at me, waving her cup in the air. “It’s fresh. Better get back here before Vera drinks it all.”
My respect for Vera leveled up knowing she was as much of an addict as I was.
The promise of caffeine took the edge off my nerves and I entered the kitchen totally unprepared for the gleaming glory that awaited me. Lilou’s kitchen was spotless. Especially after I spent hours scrubbing it last night. But it was also old enough to have lost some of the shiny sparkle that brand-new kitchens possessed. Like a cartoon with an illustrated glow, every surface, every appliance, every inch seemed to wear a halo.
“Wow,” I heard myself say with childlike awe that I couldn’t help.
“Welcome,” Vera greeted, as pleasant and kind as I’d always known her to be.
I tore my eyes from the expensive machinery to focus on the chef I had come to admire and respect over the last year. “This is crazy.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “It is crazy.”
Her embarrassment only endeared me more. “It’s nice though, yeah?”
She laughed self-consciously. “There’s more room than the truck. That’s nice for sure.”
I looked around at her massive kitchen space, mentally comparing its size to Lilou’s. Salt had it beat by at least five feet on every side. “This kitchen is amazing. I can’t wait for you to open.”
Vera raised her eyebrows behind a sip of her coffee. “Why? Looking for a job perchance?”
It was my turn to blush. It was a generous offer from her. And unsubstantiated. “I, uh, I-I like Lilou.”
“That’s a lie.” Dillon snorted, sharing a friendly look with Vera. “She hates Lilou.”
“I do not!” I defended quickly “I love the restaurant.”
“Fine.” Dillon sighed. “She hates Wyatt.”
Vera laughed again, but it sounded surprised this time. “What? Why?”
Dillon snorted again, hopping backwards to sit on a steel counter. I inwardly cringed at her irreverence but held my tongue. Dillon didn’t have the same kind of worshipfulness I had with kitchens. Or with anything really. She was pretty much aloof when it came to social cues and expected behavior. Which were my favorite things about her. Most of the time.
“He’s an asshole,” I blurted, feeling safer with Vera than I probably should have. They were friends. This would have been a good time to hold my tongue.
Vera laughed again, more subdued this time though. “Every good chef is. It’s the only way they can protect their fragile egos.”
Dillon canted her head at Vera. “You’re not an asshole.”
Killian’s voice boomed from a doorway that led to a hallway at the back of the kitchen. “You’ve never cooked with her.”
Vera’s eyes narrowed at her fiancé. “Poor, abused baby.”
He grinned at her and I had a sympathetic pang for Vera. How could she stand him looking at her like that all the time? Killian had to be one of the most beautiful humans on the planet to begin with, but then add in that adoring look in his eyes and the way his whole body seemed to warm and lean toward her? How did she survive it?
I would have died by now. Or gone into permanent shock.
She was for sure a lucky woman. But she also had to be one of the strongest out there. Not because of how beautiful Killian was, but because of how difficult he could be too.
“I am abused,” Killian agreed, closing the distance between his bride to be and the doorway in long, stretched strides. “Thank you for noticing.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at me as he put his arms around her middle. “See what I mean?”
“Yeah, well, Wyatt is an asshole in a totally different way than”—I waved my hand at them—“whatever you two have going on.”
Dillon made a sound in the back of her throat and gave them a disapproving look. “It’s like this all the time, Ky. You should be around when my brother and Molly are here too. The four of them in the same room is downright disgusting.”
“What do you mean disgusting?” Killian demanded.
I turned my back on all three of them and went hunting for coffee. I found a French press near one of the stovetops with a saucer of creamer next to it. Yes. Please.
While I poured, Dillon exclaimed, “Are you kidding me? Y’all are like a Hallmark Christmas movie, but all the time. I didn’t even know it was possible to get sick of love. But I am chronically grossed out these days.”
Vera and Killian laughed, too far gone to be bothered by Dillon’s comments. “Your brother is way worse than I am,” Killian argued. “He’s like a smitten puppy.”
I turned around just in time to watch Dillon give a pointed look at Killian’s arms still firmly encircling Vera. “And you’re not?”
Killian only grinned at her. “Obviously I am. I’m just way cooler about it than he is.” He turned back to me. “Let’s get back to the topic. Why
is Wyatt an asshole?”
This wasn’t something I wanted to talk about with my former boss. And my current boss’s friend and mentor. Time to deflect. “You’ve met him. It’s self-explanatory.”
Killian’s smile died. “Regardless of what Vera has led you to believe, we’re not all awful. And I don’t think Wyatt is at all. He’s hard maybe, precise. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. But I don’t think that makes him an asshole.”
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally.
Killian wasn’t fooled by my halfhearted answer. “It’s probably hard for you since you used to work with him and now have to work for him. It’s not that he’s an asshole, it’s just a difficult adjustment.”
“It’s not that at all,” I admitted when I knew I should keep my mouth shut. “I don’t mind perfection. I worked for you and didn’t complain.”
Killian’s eyebrows rose slowly, and I knew I’d said too much.
“Much,” I added quickly.
He cracked a small smile. “He’s good for Lilou. He’s good for you.”
The back of my neck prickled, and I took a sip of coffee to hide my urge to rub it. “I don’t know about that. Maybe he’s good for the restaurant, but we butt heads in the worst way.”
Killian’s smile stretched. “He doesn’t like that you’re as good as he is.”
The compliment spiraled through me, warming me from head to toe, slightly thawing some permanently frozen place inside my chest. “I don’t think either of us like it,” I admitted, suppressing the ego swell.
His smile disappeared, and he straightened. It was like he put on a different persona. Gone was the man in love and in his place appeared a wise father figure that was about to offer sage advice. I shifted again. I had never been great with authority. “He needs you, Kaya. He was the best for the job, yeah? I didn’t give it to him to spite you. I gave it to him because he deserved it. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t important. He’s kept you as sous, right?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but he also threatens to take it away from me every single night.”
“He won’t.” Killian’s affirmation was confident. “He can’t. There’s no one else in that kitchen that’s ready.”
“Hey!” Dillon cried out in protest. Killian gave her a look and she wilted, folding her arms over her chest and sticking out her bottom lip. “Fine, Kaya’s amazing, blah, blah, blah.”
Killian’s gaze moved back to mine. “Support him, Kaya. Support his role completely before you move on.”
My eyes narrowed. The boost to my ego from his compliment a few seconds ago was replaced with the sharp, raw feeling of vulnerability. I hated that he saw me so clearly. I hated that he’d managed to motivate me to stay with Wyatt while making me feel valuable as a chef all at once. I didn’t want people to see this much of me. I wanted to remain hidden, mysterious. Yeah, fine, I wanted my talent to be known, but I didn’t want that to give anyone insight to my insides.
“Why do you think I’ll leave Lilou?” I asked him, needing to know how obvious I was.
He shrugged and looked around the kitchen. “Because you’re never going to be satisfied with being number two. You don’t have it in you to support someone else forever.”
“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
He smiled again, but this time it was at his future wife. “It’s admirable.” He turned back to me. “But EC is hard as shit. A lot of chefs want to get to the top, but few have it in them.”
I laughed to make light of his warning, knowing he was right. “I’m okay with hard.”
“That’s what she said!” Dillon giggled from across the kitchen, her arms raised over her head in victory like she’d won something for being the first person to ever say it.
We all groaned at her terrible joke, but inwardly I was grateful we could move past the life lessons portion of the morning.
“This is why you’re still single,” Killian teased her in that older brother way.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Speaking of being single…” She paused dramatically and we all waited to find out where she was headed with this. “What’s happening with Sarita? Ezra was on the phone all last night and I fell asleep before he decided anything.”
Killian rolled his eyes. “If he was smart, he’d sell the damn thing. He should piece off all of the harem except for Lilou. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
The harem was how we lovingly referred to Ezra’s group of restaurants, all named after ex-girlfriends.
“He won’t do it,” Dillon stated simply, but with all the confidence we knew she had the right to have. “He loves them too much.”
Killian leaned back against the sink. “Which is ironic considering how much he didn’t love the actual women they’re named after.”
Vera snorted a laugh. “If he names a restaurant after Molly, I’m going to punch him in the throat.”
Dillon and Killian quickly promised Vera that would never happen. I wasn’t totally convinced, but then again, I didn’t know Ezra. I knew about him. And I worked with him enough that I knew what to expect from him in a professional setting. But I didn’t know anything about his personal life. Except that he dated high maintenance women with exotic names.
But even that was learned secondhand.
“What will happen to Sarita?” I asked, refocusing the conversation.
“We’re going to run it while Ezra is on vacation,” Vera answered. “Because we hate ourselves.”
Killian explained, “Ezra was going to cancel their big vacation, but Vera felt bad for Molly so here we are, running the most dysfunctional kitchen on the planet.”
“That’s not true,” Dillon argued. “Bianca is the most dysfunctional kitchen on the planet. Sarita will truly be better without Juan Carlo.”
I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling. Juan Carlo was as pretentious as his name suggested. He was a beast to work for and a complete egomaniac. Wyatt was bad, Juan Carlo was impossible. But his food was only mediocre in my opinion and he never changed the menu. Still, somehow, he’d created the illusion of a big name for himself and prior to last night, I never thought Sarita would be available.
“You two are in charge until Ezra gets back? Then what?”
Killian gave me an assessing look that again made me feel too seen, like a kid in trouble with her parents. “Then the search begins.”
Looking everywhere but at Killian, I asked, “Do you think he’ll hire in house?”
“Hard to say,” Killian replied. “It’s always hard to say with Ezra.”
That response got me nowhere. I downed the rest of my delicious coffee and rinsed the mug out in the sink.
“Just set it there,” Vera directed. “I’ll get it later.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s not a problem,” she promised, offering me a smile.
“Thanks. And thanks for the coffee. I needed it today.” I caught Dillon’s eye and nodded my head toward the exit. “We should get going.”
“Oh, yeah.” She hopped off the counter and turned to Killian, launching into something about how Sarita opens and delivery information.
Vera moved to my side and started walking, indicating that I should follow her. So, I did. Once we were back in the dining room, she nudged me with her elbow. “Do you want Sarita?”
I swallowed a lump large enough to be my heart. “Wh-what?”
“Don’t play humble with me,” Vera laughed. “Do you want it?”
Rolling my eyes at her so she knew I didn’t appreciate being called out, I admitted, “Obviously, I want Sarita. I’d have to be crazy not to want her.”
Her voice dropped, and she whispered, “He’s not going to give it to you.”
I would have felt devastated if not for the mischievous tone in her voice. “Why not?”
“Because you’re a girl.”
“I’ve never taken Ezra to be the sexist type.”
She shrugged. “
He’s not necessarily. It’s the industry. It’s all men. And Ezra has never had a female executive chef before. He doesn’t even know it’s possible.”
She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. The first day of culinary school I realized I would have to work twice as hard as the boys in my class that outnumbered me three to one. “Not even Dillon?”
“That’s what I mean,” Vera said quietly. “He’s definitely going to hire Dillon for Bianca. That’s already in motion. You’re either going to have to beat her or convince him to give two of his restaurants to women.”
I hadn’t thought of that. The floor seemed to drop out from underneath me. My fragile dream curled up into a ball and rolled out of reach. “Shit.”
It wasn’t possible. And not because I wasn’t good enough. Vera was right. If Ezra planned to give one of his restaurants to Dillon, there was no chance in hell I would get the other one. And I couldn’t compete with my best friend over a restaurant because it was the only option.
Besides, I wouldn’t be a good fit for Bianca. My integrity wouldn’t even let me apply for the position. I didn’t want to do fussy French food. I wanted spicy tapas and a sexy, smoldering atmosphere. I would suffocate Bianca. Or the other way around.
“Prove him wrong,” Vera coaxed. “Prove that Dillon is a fine hire, but that he’d be crazy not to give you Sarita.”
I looked at her, feeling helpless and lost. “How do I do that?”
“First, you’re going to have to convince Wyatt. And Killian. And me.” She winked. “But spoiler alert, I’m already on your side.”
“You’re not making me feel better,” I whispered, my guts exploding with butterflies and bumblebees and razor-sharp wasps.
She smiled at me. “Don’t wimp out on me now, Kaya. Continue showing me the strong, independent woman I know you are. The kickass chef that can outcook and outsmart literally any other man. Do your thing, woman, and the rest will follow.”
Her words were like a gust of wind on the dwindling fire inside me, reigniting the fight and flames that had gotten me this far. “This means I have to be nice to Wyatt though, doesn’t it?”