Dirty Chef Page 2
“Don’t make me pull this away.” He pinched the sheet.
“I don’t think you wanna do that.” I yawned, half annoyed, and wished he’d leave. I wanted to sleeeep.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Adam asked.
I let out a whine. “Adam, why are you here? It’s dark out, for chrissakes.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to rip the covers away?” he pressed.
I huffed. More than half annoyed now. “Because I’m not wearing anything, you jerk. Can you let me sleep now?”
“Bullshit,” he laughed. “Women don’t sleep naked.”
I was not getting into this with him. I refused.
“Anyway.” He stood up, finally. “You might wanna get up. Jack called me. Isla’s in labor.”
“Oh my God!” I flew up into a somewhat seated position and tucked the sheet under my arms. “That’s what you lead with!” I scowled sleepily at his form. He was facing away from the light coming in from the living room, so I couldn’t see his features very well. “When did they head in? Should we get over to the hospital right away? Everything’s okay, right?”
Adam said nothing at first. He cocked his head. “Are you really not wearing anything underneath?”
I stared at him. Once a manwhore, always a manwhore. Okay, it’d been years since he’d stopped bragging to his brothers about his conquests, but that didn’t mean anything. His mother liked to smack him upside the head and remind him of my presence, so I assumed he’d just stopped sharing those stories when I was around. For which I was thankful. But seriously, if he could stop thinking about sex for one second, that would be great. It wasn’t as if he wanted that with me anyway. The women he dated were tall, often blond, and slender. I was none of those things.
“Is. Isla. Okay?” I gritted out.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I told Jack we’d be there with coffee and breakfast in an hour.”
Okay, now I had something to work with. “Thank you. I’ll get ready as soon as you’ve closed the door behind you.”
“So, you actually—”
“Yes, Adam!” I yelled in frustration.
“Fuck,” he groaned and turned to leave—at long last. “Wait—are pillow fights a myth?”
“Get. Out.”
“Fine,” he bitched.
I blew out a heavy breath.
An hour later, Adam and I walked into the hospital with coffee and breakfast sandwiches. I’d just thrown on a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie after my shower, so I hoped the waiting room hadn’t turned into a family reunion yet.
It hadn’t. Only Jack sat there.
Normally, he was dressed in suits or, at the very least, slacks and a nice shirt. When he pulled on sweats and hoodies, it was more difficult to tell him and Adam apart.
The entire Grady family screamed of tall, dark, and handsome.
Add sheepish to Jack’s current expression when he spotted us.
I knew what that meant, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“False alarm?” I guessed.
“Fuck, really?” Adam raised his brows.
“Yeah. I apologize.” Jack gave me a hug, and I reached up to kiss his cheek. “The doctor’s just giving her a quick exam to make sure.”
“It’s totally fine,” I assured. “We’ll consider it our trial run. We’re super ready for the actual day now.”
Jack smiled faintly. I could tell he was worried, like any father-to-be worth his salt. With Isla so pregnant, there wasn’t much Jack could do but try to make her more comfortable.
“Let’s make it a rule, though,” Adam yawned. “Next time I get up at three in the morning, I expect there to be a niece and nephew to meet me.”
Jack chuckled and stuck his hands down into the pockets of his sweats. “So, you’re saying Isla and I shouldn’t ask you to be the godfather?”
My mouth popped open, tears welled up in my eyes, and I grabbed at Adam’s bicep. “Oh my God, that’s so freaking sweet.”
“Are you shitting me?” Adam seemed to be in disbelief. “Of all the people you could ask—brother, I’m flattered as hell, but were you guys drunk when you considered me?”
I laughed and wiped away a stray tear.
Jack smirked. “It would be a package deal. Alessia would have to agree to be their godmother.”
“Oh Dio.” There was no stopping the emotions now. I placed a hand over my pounding heart.
Jack gave me a smile. “Is that a yes?”
I sniffled and nodded and hugged him tightly. “So much yes. It’s an honor.”
He kissed me on the forehead before I stepped back. “You’re family. The best little sister I could ask for—and our first choice.”
Someone have mercy on me. I beamed and wiped at my cheeks, and Adam threw an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to him.
“Like you could go back to sleep now,” he murmured into my hair.
I let out a breathless chuckle. “No way. We have to plan a welcome home party for our godchildren.”
My heart clenched, and it was bittersweet longing mingling with sheer happiness. At one point, all I’d wanted was a family with Adam. A future with him. A pipe dream that had died, but even so…
No matter. This was a glorious day.
“We don’t have anything planned until we open tonight, right?” I looked up at Adam, and he confirmed it. “You were heading to Seattle this weekend anyway. You wanna spend the day there? I wanna go to the market we like and plan a menu for the party.” Pike Place was great for when Adam was sample shopping and experimenting, but Seattle had more to offer than that. And we had a favorite, a smaller market away from the tourists.
Adam checked his watch. “We should hit the road now, then. Before rush hour.”
I was game.
I gave Jack’s hand a squeeze. “Hug Isla for me when she comes out and keep us posted.”
“Of course.” He inclined his head.
Adam hated driving in the city, so I drove his Silverado while he woke himself up by chugging coffee.
“I’d like to swing by St. James and light a candle for the babies,” I said, switching to the right lane. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He nodded and got more comfortable in his seat, his foot propped on the ledge of the map pocket in the door. “I’ll try not to curse this time.”
I grinned.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while after that, and I swayed lightly to the soft rock music playing on the radio.
Adam cranked up the volume a bit.
Washington was slowly waking up to a new day. Thick, dark clouds went to war with the purple sky along the horizon.
“You know this song,” Adam said quietly.
“Yes?” I slowed down behind the car in front of us and quirked a brow at Adam.
He shrugged and clasped his hands across his stomach. “I like it when you sing, that’s all.”
Heat bled across my cheeks, even though he’d told me that before. That was the thing with Adam Grady. If you were special to him, he let you know. He showed me I was one of his favorite people often enough that it was close to impossible to get over him. I fooled myself every now and then, a few months there, a year here, a couple weeks there, before he did something to not only remind me that “Ha-ha, you bitch, you thought you didn’t love him anymore?” but also, “By the way, you’re just a bit more in love with him now than you were earlier.”
I sang along with the radio, and Adam sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.
His well-worn ball cap sat on the dash. No matter how many caps he had, he refused to throw out this one. He wasn’t even much of a Mariners fan. Correction, he wasn’t hugely into baseball. Despite that, he wore the old Mariners cap when the rest of us braved the cold in knitted beanies and mittens.
At this rate, we would grow old together without being together. I’d chase him around when I reached my sixties and try to get him to wear a proper hat when it was cold out.
I smiled to myself and hummed as the song drew to its close. “You’ll make a good godfather. Or the funniest one.”
He chuckled.
To be honest, he would be the best godfather. There was no forgetting the countless times he’d sworn up and down that he was never having kids, but…
Fuck. I despised thinking about it. I had no right or reason to take it personally. His disinterest in becoming a father was, however, one of the reasons I’d never made my feelings known to him. I’d always been sure in the back of my mind that I wanted a family one day, even when I was far from ready for it, and it’d been impossible not to wish for him to be the father.
Regardless of how great he was with children, though, he laughed or snorted when someone asked when it would be his turn to settle down and have kids.
“Let’s hope I never have to face the responsibility of raising those little ones,” he said.
I made the sign of the cross instinctively. May nothing ever happen to Isla and Jack; that thought made my heart hurt. “Well, we’re gonna babysit.”
Adam grunted. “Not until the soft spot on their heads ain’t soft.”
I chuckled.
“Let me know when they eat solids,” he added. “I can work with that.”
“You’re being silly.” I checked the rearview and moved over to the right. Our exit was coming up.
“I’m counting my blessings,” he countered. A cute argument for someone who wasn’t religious. “There are two things in my life I haven’t ruined. Our business and our friendship. That’s it.”
I knitted my brows and side-eyed him. “What are you talking about?”
He yawned and sank lower in his seat. “You of all people know, love. How many women have told me I make a useless boyfriend?” A few. “How many birthdays have I forgotten?” Most of them. “Who cried for two weeks when I decided against college in Seattle and moved across the country?” His mother. “How many hamsters did I forget to feed when I was a kid?”
“They were gerbils.” According to the pictures I’d seen and the tales shared by family members.
“See? I didn’t even know what they were.”
I rolled my eyes, torn between amusement and wanting to tell him how wrong he was.
“Your mother cried when all of you went off to college,” I pointed out. “She cried two years ago when you and I visited my family in Italy. She cries every time she and your dad are off on another adventure.” Since retirement, Adam’s folks traveled a lot.
Adam shrugged a little. “Whatever. I ain’t risking shit anymore. Those poor kids—I’d fuck them up before they learned how to crawl.”
What he said didn’t sit well with me. As for the women he’d dated over the years…I couldn’t help but feel slightly responsible, because some of them had broken up with him when he wouldn’t spend less time with me.
“Mornin’, miss. Just you today?”
“Good morning. Adam’s here somewhere.” I smiled and bent down to smell the white roses George and his wife were selling. They were one of my favorite vendors at the market, and I often bought flowers here for the restaurant. “How’s Magda doing?” Last time I was here, she’d just had surgery on her hip.
“Much better.” George’s craggy face lit up with all the love he had for his missus. “She’s runnin’ after the grandkids most days now.”
“Bene, I’m glad—”
“Alessia!” Adam hollered down the row.
“I’ll be back,” I chuckled and left George’s stand.
It wasn’t as cold yet as the forecast had predicted, but it looked like it was going to rain any minute now. In a sea of gray and black, my yellow coat stood out and dared the clouds to turn my day sour.
My breath came out in a mist as I trailed down the row, past vendors who sold everything from flowers and homemade soap and candles to freshly caught fish, fruit, and caribou jerky.
When I reached Adam, he was in work mode, holding up what looked like a jar of preserves of some sort.
“Try this.” He fished out some creamy yellow jelly on a new spoon.
I closed my lips around it and hummed at the deliciousness. “Cloudberry, right?”
He nodded and returned the jar to the woman who had several shelves of various jams and jellies behind her. “I was thinking about the Valentine’s idea you had.”
“Yeah?” I waited expectantly to hear his grand plan. I lived for this. For his creativity.
“Sweet and spicy,” he said with a faint smirk. “Just like you. It’ll be a good mix for the menu.” He couldn’t know what he did to me when he said those things. He nodded at the woman. “Do you have a bulk option for businesses?”
“Absolutely,” the woman said, “but I fear we only have that on our website.”
That worked.
Adam waved it off. “That’s fine. Gimme two of the cloudberry, please. I’ll order the rest.”
Once the menu was set, I added silently. I’d learned his process. He was going to create something magical.
While the woman wrapped the jars and added a business card to the little bag, Adam turned to me. “That’s gonna go on the sweet and spicy burger. Off the top of my head, I’m thinking a cloudberry chutney on a smoky brisket with the bite of Carolina Reaper.”
“Holy shit,” I mouthed.
“Yeah?” His smirk widened.
“Fuck yes,” I said excitedly. “Oh! Wouldn’t it be fun if we rated the dishes like movies? Like, this one would be XXX-rated.”
He laughed. “Dirty.”
I waggled my brows like a dork, to which he pulled my cute beanie over my face.
“Jerk!” I grinned and righted my hat. “Okay, what else have you got?”
Adam received the change after paying and grabbed the paper bag. “I wanna do something spicy to crispy bacon.”
I hummed, intrigued. “Buffalo?”
“Maybe,” he replied thoughtfully. We continued up the row of vendors with the other early risers. Most at this hour wanted breakfast. “It would be a side dish. Deep-fried, perhaps.”
“Oh God, tempura batter? Pretty please?”
“Obviously.” His mind was racing. I could tell by how his gaze flickered and how he stopped paying attention to our surroundings. Did he even notice how he slowed down? “Horseradish has a sharper sting without being too hot. I could make a good sauce with that. So…crispy bacon…hot sauce, tempura batter, then into the fryer.”
I could see the dish before me. I’d studied design in college and minored in marketing, though everything I’d learned had been adjusted to fit our concept for the restaurant, and design mattered. Presentation was the book cover that sold the content, and for this, I wanted three little bowls of dipping sauces.
Adam and I picked up the pace as I explained my vision; they could be served like chips, and we already had the pocket plates from our fondue menu last year. The big pocket was for the fried bacon, of course.
“I like it,” Adam approved. “You know I gotta go against the grain and not make one of the dipping sauces blue cheese, right?”
I laughed. “But people love blue cheese with their hot sauce.”
“And it’s unoriginal as fuck,” he replied frankly.
I could give him that. The twin walking next to me was all about originality.
His passion was making people fall for flavors and combinations they’d never considered before.
Such as— “I know, I know, I know!” I got a little too excited, although Adam only grinned. “The banana curry dip you made for New Year’s that time.”
“Oh…” He furrowed his brow in concentration and pinched his lips. “Hmm. I’d have to make adjustments. I could add garlic—no. Too dominant. It’ll take over. I’ll think about it, but it can work. Solid idea. It should have a kick but still be smooth.”
“And sweet.”
“And sweet.” He nodded. “Thoughts on my key lime
aioli?”
“Oh, that’ll be perfect. And maybe a whip of some sort.”
He stopped abruptly and grabbed ahold of my arm. I glanced up at him.
“With apple and maple,” he said.
Holy Christ, of course. “They’re gonna freaking love that. You’re a genius!”
He chuckled. “Remember that next time you pick up my dirty socks.”
“Bless. I’m not doing that anymore.” I patted his arm and walked ahead, eager for more inspiration.
Three
Alessia Rossi
“Well, after Isla pointed it out to me, it’s obvious to the whole goddamn world. It’s time you talk to her.”
I looked over my shoulder to see Jack coming down the spiral staircase of his home with his phone to his ear. I was on the couch in their living room with Isla.
“Jack!” Isla exclaimed.
My gaze was instantly on her, fear ricocheting through me. “Are you okay?”
She wouldn’t look away from Jack, so I frowned over at him.
He’d stopped short on the last step. “Alessia. I didn’t know you were here.”
I smiled—surprise, Jack—and waved. To his credit, I’d spent hours here with Isla before, without Jack ever knowing. He worked as a freelance editor, a very successful one at that, and he could be holed up in his office on the third floor for ages.
“I’ll call you back,” he muttered to whoever he was on the phone with and ended the call. “What a pleasant surprise, hon. What brings you by?”
Well, it wasn’t a movie marathon. I liked to tease him about the fact that they didn’t have a TV in their living room. Only floor-to-ceiling shelves of books and a fireplace. It was certainly beautiful, but a movie every now and then was a must.
“She made me cookies,” Isla said. “I love you, but you can’t have any. Right now, they’re preventing me from crying for no reason at all.”
I giggled.
Jack smiled ruefully and walked over to us. With the couch at the center of the room, he came to a stop behind us and bent down to kiss the top of Isla’s head. “I’ll suffer in silence, I suppose. As long as you’re comfortable.”