Page 11 of Bake You Mine (Port Fortune #1)

seven

“Two new sous? Are you sure?” Damon tossed a medicine ball to Liam.

They tried to meet up at the gym over on Tulip Turn at least a couple of times a week before work.

“You said you liked them both. So, hire them both. We’ll need the help gearing up for the holiday season.” Liam lobbed the ball back. “And besides, we’re overdue for a wave of turnover anyway.”

They had a pretty good crew at both front and back of the house, but turnover was a reality of the hospitality industry.

“Ugh, that kind of thought needs to stay on the inside.” Damon tapped the side of his head. “You know how many candidates we had to sift through to find these two.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Liam mimed zipping his lips. “But I want to ensure that you have the help you need. Because let’s be real, I may be executive chef, but I’m aware of whose kitchen that really is.”

Liam made sure the plates looked right on their way out the door, planned menus, and glad-handed customers. His title of executive chef meant little without Damon keeping everything running. He’d be nothing without him.

“Well, damn, you do pull your head outta your ass every now and again.”

Damon launched the ball at Liam so hard that it took the air from his lungs.

“I was paying you a compliment, dipshit.”

Damon ignored him. “I’ve got to worry about payroll and this whole contest bullshit. Do you have to go to a cocktail party tonight? Seriously? We have a party of twenty in the private room. I could use your help to keep everyone straight.”

Liam pushed the ball to the side and dropped onto his back.

“So, I’m hearing that you’re not happy with the current state of things at Elevation.

That makes two of us. I’m tired of not spending enough time in the kitchen.

If I wanted to be the face of the place and nothing else, I’d be in front of the house. ”

“You know what I mean.”

He exhaled a long breath. “May I remind you that you’re the one who started tagging Elevation’s posts with the hashtag?”

“Look, I don’t want to argue with you, man. I’m just saying, win or lose this contest, we’ve got to make some major decisions about the future of the business.”

Liam didn’t want to bring up his idea to leave town if things didn’t work out. It would only freak Damon out, especially now that his wife was pregnant with their third child.

It’d taken a lot of convincing to get Damon to work with him in the first place, let alone to become a minority partner in the business. Liam had run off once, and even though it’d been over a decade in the past, Damon was still a little gun-shy.

Liam rolled up to a sitting position. “Fair enough. As for tonight, it’s a cocktail party for old people. It starts at six o’clock. I’m going to stay an hour or so, then I’ll be back before shit heats up. That party isn’t scheduled until eight. ”

Damon sighed. “Fine. I think two new hires is an expense we can’t handle right now, but hey, what do I know?”

“Is this where you want me to sing your praises? I mean, I just did, but I’ll do it again. Even though we both know I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

Damon gave him a shove as he stood. “Fuck you, man.” His voice held no malice, but Liam knew he’d pressed him too far.

“I hear you on everything. The cost of not only one sous but two, what we’ll do after…I promise I see everything you’re doing for the business, Damon. We will talk after this, and it might be to decide if you’ll be taking on a bigger role on the business side of Elevation.”

Damon managed a smile. “Good, because I’ve got ideas. I’ve got to run Damon Jr. to the dentist. I’ll see you back there later.”

Once his friend had slipped into the locker room, Liam dropped onto the mat. As much as he loved the idea of being a big city chef again, he wondered if his ties in Port Fortune were too tight for that ever to be a reality.

He exhaled and stared at the ceiling. He had a good thing going on here, so why did he feel that familiar boredom creeping up around the edges? Winning this contest would squash all those stupid yearnings. He’d have no reason to leave if he won.

Aubrey stood in front of her bedroom closet. Daphne was sprawled across the bed, her laptop propped up in front of her.

“I don’t think you can wear leggings to a cocktail party, Mom.”

Aubrey pushed through the hangers until she found an emerald green off-the-shoulder ruffle dress she’d worn for a school banquet last spring.

She threw it on the bed as if she had a lot of options to choose from.

She had that pink dress she’d worn for that Instagram post and a few other dresses that she wasn’t sure fit anymore.

“What do you think, little bug? The low tonight is sixty-two, so I should be okay with this.”

Daphne peered at her over the top of her glasses. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s cocktail-appropriate, but are those rules even enforced anymore?”

Aubrey let out a laugh. “How do you know these things?”

“I have a Pinterest account and too much free time.” Daphne stuck out her tongue. “Seriously, I think it’s pretty. Wear your hair down, okay?”

“I’ll take my stylist’s advice.”

Daphne slammed her laptop closed. “Liam’s going to be there, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I’ll be seeing a lot of him while this contest continues.”

Her daughter resembled a tween-age supervillain as she rubbed her hands together. “You know?—”

Aubrey cut her daughter off. “I need to hop in the shower, or I’ll be late.”

Daphne dropped onto the bed. “Fine, whatever. But I have eyes, Mom. You should open yours occasionally.”

With nothing to say, Aubrey left her daughter to her homework.

Gary had Port Fortune High students acting as valets for his cocktail party.

It felt ridiculous handing over the keys to her minivan to Trevor, whom she’d known since he was in short pants.

The sight of her mom van parked next to Porsches and BMWs was even more ridiculous.

She stood on Snap Dragon Street and gazed at Gary’s brick-front mansion, suddenly feeling like she was fifteen again and not cool enough to go inside the party.

The roar of a motorcycle tearing up the street interrupted her internal pity party.

The all-black bike rolled to a stop in front of the valet stand.

The rider pulled off their helmet. It took a moment for her eyes to catch up with her brain.

Liam shook his longish hair out of his eyes like a model.

He wore an all-black motorcycle jacket and matching trousers.

He cut the engine and slid off the bike. Aubrey stepped out of her stupor and approached.

“Since when have you had a motorcycle?”

He cradled his helmet against his hip and met her gaze. “I was unaware that you tracked which vehicles I drove?”

She sputtered and clutched her purse against her stomach. “I mean, I would’ve heard this obnoxious, loud thing tearing down Sweet Briar.”

He chuckled. “If you must know, I bought it the last time I was in DC. It was delivered last week. I haven’t had a bike since I moved back from San Francisco.” He locked up his helmet and tucked the keys into his jacket pocket. “Are those all your questions, Ms. Dennison?”

How did he manage to make her name sound sexy?

“Sorry, my curiosity got the better of me.”

He gestured for her to head up the stairs. “Are you into bikes?”

Navigating the stairs took all of her attention. She was terrified of tripping in her too-high heels—Daphne wouldn’t let her leave without them.

When she stumbled, his hand came to her wrist to catch her before she tumbled forward. “You all right?” He angled his body in front of her .

To what, catch her if she fell?

She was certainly not all right, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself any more than she already had.

“I’m okay. Thanks for the catch.” She moved on to the next step.

His hand stayed on her arm until she was out of reach.

“To answer your question, I do like bikes. Chris had one. When we lived in Paris, it’s how we got around the city until our kid came along. ”

“Hmm, so you like your boys a little bad around the edges?”

She was spared from answering by Gary swinging open his grand front door. “There are the guests of honor. Come on in. Ben wants to get some photos before everyone gets too tipsy.”

Ben stood behind Gary, appearing about as thrilled as he would be having his eyes pecked out by seagulls.

Soon enough, they were encircled by Mayor Albright, city council members, and the chamber of commerce, which, funnily enough, had almost a complete membership crossover with the city council.

Liam inclined his head toward her. “You okay?”

“I don’t know what to do with my hands.” She threw them up in frustration.

“Here. Stand like this.” He stuck his foot forward and put a hand on his hip. “It’ll help you stand out in the crowd.” He gestured to the people milling around them. Her eyes must’ve shown her panic because he added, “Or you can just stand behind me.”

“Everyone, take one step closer,” Ben said.

There was grumbling and movement, but everyone did as asked. Aubrey ended up sandwiched between Liam and the mayor.

She took the pose advice, even though she felt foolish doing it. Liam stood with his hand on his hip, effortlessly cool as always .

Once the photos were over, she found herself drawn into a conversation with the mayor.

“You know, we’re putting a lot of eggs into this contest basket. Tourist numbers have dropped off in recent years. We hope this will bring more investment and tourist dollars to the city. Maybe then commercial real estate won’t be in such short supply.”

She sipped her cocktail. “I thought Gary had a riverside development in the works that you were holding the permits on?”

Mayor Albright stared down at Aubrey over the top of his glasses. “Is that what he’s saying?”

Shit, she hadn’t meant to step into it. Luckily, the mayor got carried away by his wife, so she found herself standing on the outskirts of the party.

Not exactly an unfamiliar place for her.

Moving around so much as a kid, she’d never developed that core group of friends.

Any friends she did make, she’d lose when her family inevitably moved.

She’d graduated from a high school she’d attended for six months.

Who wanted new friends when they’d all known each other their whole lives?

It’s no wonder she was the type to develop silly crushes at thirty-six years old.

“You okay?” Liam approached from her left side.

She hefted her purse onto her shoulder. “Feeling a little bit like a wallflower, but nothing new there.”

“You know, I think you’re kind of like an onion.” He leaned forward to snatch a plate full of tiny sandwiches. He handed one to her.

“In that I smell bad and make people cry?” She shoved the sandwich in her mouth.

“No, in that there are a lot of layers to you. You’ve always kept your walls up around me. ”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’m not sure whether to be insulted or flattered by that statement.”

“I meant it as a compliment, if that helps.” He regarded his smartwatch before turning to her. “Can I ask you something?”

She choked down the remainder of her sandwich. “Sure, as long as it’s not a question about onions.”

He gulped his beer, wiping the foam off his lips before speaking. “I’ve always been curious about what I did to you when we first met.”

Shit, shit, double shit.

“Sorry, I’m not following?”

He rubbed at his chin. “I’m not blind, Aubrey. I see how you are with everyone else. Then there’s me. I always figured I’d done something to offend you. I worried I’d offend you more if I asked you what I’d done.”

Oh, Christ, what was he getting at?

“You didn’t do anything to me. Maybe you perceive a difference because I don’t fall over you like other women.”

He fixed her with a skeptical glance. “You know I’m not actually hot chef, right? Not everyone thinks I’m hot shit, but they don’t treat me the way you do, either.”

She’d always thought she’d skated by without much notice from Liam. She wasn’t the actress she pretended to be. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. It was never my intention. I guess sometimes my resting bitch face goes hard.”

“I’m glad I asked.” He inspected his watch again. “It’s about time for me to get back to work. Did you want to do an Irish goodbye?”

“Won’t Gary be miffed?” Aubrey asked.

He pointed to where Gary and the mayor were carrying on a chaotic conversation. They were likely bickering over some decade-old slight.

“Lead the way. ”

She followed him out through the back garden. He was a half-step ahead of her, moving through the rows of flowers like he owned the place.

She was overtaken by the aroma of the late-season flowers and the unique smell of the air as autumn approached: dried leaves, smoke, and wet grass.

Liam turned several times to ensure she was still behind him as they made their way through the garden, out through the back gate, and around the front of the house.

He strode over to his bike. “Did you leave your keys with the valet?”

One of the valets ran around to grab her ticket, answering his question.

“Well, you’ll have to take an IOU for that ride.”

Oh my god. “I wasn’t aware you were offering.”

“You’re a girl who wouldn’t mind a spin around the block. We both know it.” He tugged his helmet on and flicked up the visor. “Are you okay driving home?”

The valet rounded the corner with her van. “I’m fine. I only had one drink, and it’s a short drive. I live over on Foxglove Way.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later then, Aubs.” He dropped down the helmet visor and roared away.

She slipped into the driver’s seat after passing a couple of dollars to the valet. She closed her eyes, exhaled, and gripped the steering wheel.

What was Liam up to? She’d think he was flirting with her if she didn’t know better. Her skeptical side wondered if he was trying to keep her distracted so he could win the competition.

She pulled her van to the stop sign at the bottom of the hill. Liam’s bike was idling on the shoulder. He turned back toward her, his face hidden by his helmet. He gave her a thumbs-up before driving off.

Had he waited to see her off?