All The Way (The Sarah Kinsely Story - Book #1) (3 page)

“Please have a seat.” He said.

There was a little table for four attached to the wall and four little chairs which we promptly sat our behinds in.

“I will be with you in a moment, but please enjoy the view.” He turned on his heel and left.

We giggled as he left the room. We could see the entire kitchen from where we sat. It was like watching
Cirque Du Soleil
. Cooks were calling out to each other in a coded language I couldn’t make out. Each cook seemed to have his or her own style as they chopped ingredients, plated food and danced around the kitchen. The chef stood at the head of it all tasting, inspecting and controlling. I couldn’t help myself but be attracted to his ability to command his ship. I found his sense of control in all that chaos calming, assuring and even sexy. Every once in a while he would bite the end of a pencil he used to mark off tickets and I felt the room spin slightly.

I shook my head and tried to direct my gaze to the dishwasher.
Now is not the time to be getting all hot and heavy over some random guy.
Luckily, there wasn’t anything sexy about a machine that scraped used food off of dishes. It worked.

Lizzy was the first to put words together into a coherent sentence.

“Oh.My.God. That guy is spicy hot.” She said as she grasped her head with her hands and pulled her cheeks.

“I want his body on my body.” Angela said without even cracking a smile.

Peyton was barely able to keep her watery eyes open she was laughing so hard. The three girls exchanged a few variations on what they already said and then Angela paused.

“What about you Sarah? What do you think about our old friend the chef?”

Silence. The other two girls stopped laughing. Only the clanging of the pots and pans in the kitchen could be heard now.

I knew to tread carefully here. I was the new girl. This wasn’t just a question about what I thought of the hunky guy who just took us on a personal tour of his kitchen, this was a vetting process and I was unprepared.

Instead of saying what I really thought about
their
chef, I said,

“He seemed nice. His kitchen is really big.”

At this the girls lost it. Every possible innuendo about kitchen size and male anatomy that could be made was made. Angela nearly passed out from laughing so hard. I felt embarrassed, but was happy to see that I had passed the test.

Whatever this mysterious chef had planned for us that evening I was excited to be sharing the experience with these girls.

Chapter 4

We weren’t sitting there long when the chef returned, plates balancing precariously on his arms. I knew they were full sized dinner plates but the chef’s forearms were so wide that they didn’t even teeter as he swung his body through the door and delivered the food to our table.

He placed each plate, a different dish, one by one in front of us.

“I have cooked you each something very special,” he explained, “Off the menu.” He winked.

He proceeded to give us each a rundown of the dish sitting in front of us.

For Angela he prepared a mushroom udon with oyster sauce and sauteed vegetables.

“A sturdy dish, full of solid flavor and deeply satisfying. Whenever I am in need of a dependable meal, this is what I make myself.” He said to her.

For Lizzy, he had made a bowl of sweet beef ramen in a spicy broth topped with buttered corn and green onion.

“This is an experimental dish. It is zesty, fun and a crowd pleaser. Not something I would feed my grandmother, but I love it even more because of that.” Lizzy took a deep breath over the broth’s spicy aroma and licked her lips.

Petyon’s dish looked like a piece of architecture straight out of Japan. Cuts of Kobe beef, teriyaki chicken and roasted marinated vegetables sat atop steaming jasmine rice.

“Sometimes you want the best, and most of the time you just want it all.” He winked at Peyton as he made his way around the table to my seat.

I looked at my dish. It looked like curry, but smelled sweet and fragrant like it had been dowsed in honey butter. I did my best to wait my turn and not just dive into it headfirst. My stomach was still growling with hunger.

“For you,” he said as he leaned over putting his head near mine so we were both looking at the dish, “I have created something soft and sweet. Something that I learned from my travels overseas. It is my secret recipe for chicken tiki masala. There is only one other person on earth who knows the recipe and she lives in a rural village in India so I feel pretty confident in saying you won’t try anything like this again in your entire life.”

I felt my heart pound faster. Suddenly, the girls were looking at me and my dish instead of the chef and his body. I felt like I might pass out. As much as I was trying to enjoy the moment memories of the pain that I had left behind in New York flooded back into the front of my mind and my body was instantly overcome with feelings of painful anxiety. I was having a panic attack. I didn’t want his attention. I didn’t want to play this flirting game anymore. I certainly didn’t want Mr. Chef Suave over here to ruin my chances of any type of peace and harmony back at work. These girls seemed really into him. To me he was just the guy who cooked my food.

“It looks lovely.” I said, keeping my head down and eyes pointed directly at my “once in a lifetime” meal trying not to pass out, freak out or walk out.

The others began eating their meals as well. The only sounds being the moans of oral pleasure that come from eating the best meal you have ever tasted cooked by a man you would have no problem sleeping with if he would but ask. At one point, I thought Lizzy may have been putting it on a little heavy with her moaning, but the chef seemed to enjoy it. After he saw that we were enjoying our meals he left.

“I am sorry ladies, but I have my kitchen to run. I hope that you don’t mind.”

Before we could respond he was gone.

The moans stopped and all three pairs of eyes were on me. I kept shoveling the tiki masala into my mouth. I could hardly taste it, I felt so embarrassed. Each bite that entered my mouth caused me to gag. The growling of my stomach had turned into a painful knotting. I had come to get used to that feeling of anxiety. I didn’t like it, but I was used to it.

I wanted this dish to be as delicious as I knew that it probably was but there was more to it than just taste. This was a dish with meaning and I didn’t want to eat it.

“
So
.” Peyton set her fork down and put her arm around me.

“
So
, what?” I said, refusing to look at her.

“
So
, what are you gonna do about
that
?” She pointed to the dish now half empty.

“Nothing.”

Almost as soon as the words left my mouth Angela and Lizzy were up in arms.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Why not?”

“Are you crazy?”

“She must be crazy.”

“Peyton you hired another crazy one.”

“Jesus Peyton don’t you vet these people anymore? How are we supposed to have any fun around here?”

Suddenly, Angela put up her hand. A look of shock across her face.

“Omigod Sarah, I just realized how insensitive we have been. I am so sorry, I didn’t even think to ask.” She said.

“Ask what?” I said, curious that the harassment had stopped so suddenly.

“There isn’t really a delicate way to ask, and it really isn’t any of my business, but,” she paused and shot a quick glance to Peyton then back at me, “are you a lesbian? Is that why you aren’t going to do anything about that guy?”

“Jesus Christ,” Peyton slapped her forehead with her hand, “You are going to get me fired Angela.”

“What? I just need to know for future situations you know? I totally understand if you went lesbian after what your ex did. I totally get it. I am totally cool with it, I just-”

“Shut up Angela.” Lizzy said studying me for a reaction.

The night couldn’t get any more awkward.

Realizing that Peyton had disclosed what I thought were private comments in our first meeting my mind spun trying to think of a way to salvage what reputation that I may have had left. In a way I was glad Peyton had shared my story. I needed to laugh about it with someone. If I played this situation out with some class I may even get a permanent spot in these girls’ little group.

I sighed, crumpled my napkin and said,

“No. I like penis, just like my ex does.”

The girls didn’t know how to react. They held it in as long as they could but the alcohol got the best of them and they burst into crying laughter. Peyton flashed a genuine smile and that familiar feeling that comes when you realize you may have just made a lifelong friend fell gently into my mind.

“You really are a hoot Sarah.” Peyton said as she cut a slice of Kobe beef.

“Well, if you aren’t going to do anything about him, I will.” Lizzy said and left the table.

“Now you’ve gone and done it.” Angela said as she twirled an udon noodle around her fork.

Minutes later Lizzy returned with the chef in tow. Literally, she was pulling him into the room. He was yelling for a waiter as he entered the room.

“I am so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t realize that you were ready to go so soon. I will have my waiter come show you out and clear your table.”

Peyton and I exchanged confused glances. I certainly wasn’t ready to go. If the gods were going to force me to keep living after that embarrassing little moment earlier I wanted to reap the rewards and finish savoring the incredible dish that lay before me.

“No chef, it isn’t that at all. It’s Sarah. She has something she would like to say to you.”

I almost choked on a piece of chicken. A wave of heat overcame me, like my head had just been rammed into one of the industrial ovens in
his
kitchen. I didn’t say anything.

For the umpteenth time this evening, only the sounds of the kitchen could be heard in that little room. All eyes were on me.

“I am sorry - Sarah was it?” The chef stepped over to my chair and put his hand on my forearm. My stomach flipped and a tingle shot through the floor of the restaurant up my legs. I tried not to, but I shivered.

“I am sorry,” he said in a deep chocolate voice, “if you weren’t satisfied with your meal. I can prepare you something else entirely if you wish.”

He was close to me now, a little too close. Marcus came running into the room. Four sets of eyes were now watching the chef and I as he leaned in. I didn’t press him back or ask him to move because I didn’t want him to. To be honest, it had been a while since a man had leaned that close to me who wasn’t also riding the same bus or trying to squeeze past in an overcrowded grocery store.

He was so close to me that I could smell him. A mix of shampoo and kitchen spices. I bit the inside of my lip.

I didn’t know why I wasn’t resisting. Just minutes earlier my body had gone into anxiety mode when he tried his little “secret recipe” move on me. There was something annoying and wonderful about being this close to him. I could almost feel his body heat radiating against mine.

“Well,” Peyton said, “Do you want him to cook you up something different or did you want to say something else?” She was being my boss now, trying to move things along.

I cleared my throat.

“This is fine. There must have been some misunderstanding, I just wanted to know how much we would be paying for our meals.” It was the best I could do considering.

Angela tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. She didn’t have to.

The chef stood, ironed out the front of his jacket with both hands revealing that he wasn’t only a good cook, but he was a fit cook as well.

“I am sorry that I hadn’t made that clear before. The meal is on the house. My guests are always free.” He rolled up a sleeve of his coat revealing that he, like Lizzy, was tattooed. His were of the geometric nature, not tribal, his were more interesting. He flexed his hand and the muscles in his arm made the little geometric shapes move like boats on the open ocean.

There was something sexy about seeing his arm ripple his tattoo like that. I suddenly felt very distinctly the four other people in the room. Their eyes felt like they were burning into my flesh. I felt suffocated. The anxiety returned. I couldn’t handle the heat, it was time for me to get out of the kitchen.

“You know what,” I said standing up, “I actually do think I am ready to go.”

“What?” Angela said.

“Yea, I think I may have had one too many glasses and I don’t feel too well. I should probably get going.” My hip brushed up against his body as I squeezed past the chef blocking my escape. It lasted less than a second but even in that short time I could feel the firmness that he was. I didn’t see the girls’ reactions, I was too busy trying to make my way out and too busy thinking about my hip brushing against his body.

I had almost made it all the way to the streetcar stop just a block away from the restaurant when I heard a voice calling my name.