Page 57 of Delicious (Delicious #1)
Chapter Four
Rémy
I try my best to stay focused through dinner service, but every time that door swings open, I can’t help but glance up to look at him. He’s changed so much but still has that stunning bright smile that sent butterflies swarming through my gut all those years ago. He hasn’t shaved in maybe a day, and light stubble covers his chiseled jaw. And while his hair used to be down to his shoulders, he’s cut it short now, tapered at the sides but longer on top, and styled with some kind of product that makes it look wet. Or it is wet. He might have just showered. And now I’m thinking about him in the shower. Shit. I have to stop. I have to focus. The kitchen is the place where I feel most at ease, where the world makes sense, but with Nate sitting out there, I feel completely off my game.
Every dish that has landed in front of him has brought a smile that makes his eyes sparkle, and my dessert is up next. Then I won’t be able to put off this conversation any longer.
“Hey, Rémy, man. Are these ready?” Lilah asks, reaching for the plates and pulling me from my haze.
“Oh, yes, thank you. This is the last of them.”
She carries them out, balancing three plates on one arm like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and when the door swings wide as she passes through and she places one down in front of Nate, his lips pick up in a grin of delight, and my stomach flips.
It flips in the same way it used to whenever we played as children and he would smile or laugh my way. Shit. I can’t be crushing on Nate, not again. He wasn’t interested ten years ago, and I have no reason to think he would be now. Besides, hitting on him would probably be a surefire way to get him to run for the hills. I have to keep this totally professional. Show him what a great investment this place is. How amazing it could be.
I walk out to the kitchen after cleaning everything and setting up for the next day, but Nate isn’t sitting at his table. He’s laughing with Lilah across the room as he helps her to reset place settings.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, drawing their attention.
“I know, but I was here anyway, so I figured I would give Lilah a hand. I’m Nate. You must be Remigius,” he says, picking up another water glass and setting it down in its place. He doesn’t remember me at all, does he? My mouth doesn’t move. I’m stuck. My mind and body are frozen in place just watching him. Lilah laughs.
She laughs a little and then shakes her head.
“Only his aunt calls him Remigius. We usually just call him Rémy, or Chef Rémy, and he’s clearly had a big night in the kitchen. How about you guys go talk? I can finish this up.”
My lips finally move.
“Oui. Yes, umm, you can call me Rémy. It was a big night. Did you like everything?” I ask, moving to sit at one of the booths on the far-right side. The booths were another addition to the space Jack and I reclaimed before it was destroyed to make way for something modern, shiny, and new. They were in the old diner in town. Jack and I would visit there every Tuesday and Thursday and eat cherry pie while going over my ideas for the estate. When the owner, Mr. Wellings, passed and the place was picked up by some city developer, we convinced his wife to let us take a row of booths before the sale. I run my fingers over the soft black leather, feeling the slight ripples of its age, and my nerves settle. This place is amazing. Nate will see that. He has to. This pace can’t end up just like the diner and the Morris farm.
“So, I was thinking—” Nate starts, but I suddenly cut him off and blurt out.
“You can’t sell.”
His eyebrows rise. “I think I can do whatever I want with my hotel.” He leans back on the seat and folds his arms over his chest, and for a moment, his jaw clenches.
“Sorry, but it’s our hotel, and I know I can’t tell you not to sell your share, but I’m hoping you will give me a chance to show you what this place could be. Jack and I had big plans for Buxton Estate. He’s gone, but we’re still here. We can still make his… Well, our dreams for this place come true. If you just give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove this place is too special to be sold off to some corporation who’ll just tear it down.” I can hear my French accent coming through thick. While I spent a lot of time in the States growing up and my English is great, whenever I get stressed or overwhelmed, it’s harder to maintain the control needed to sound less French. Not that I want to be less French. But when the accent is too thick, people have a hard time understanding what I’m trying to say.
He’s still frowning, but his lips have picked up in a quizzical kind of smirk.
“Have we met before?” he asks, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and linking his fingers together in front of him. “I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
I contemplate lying. Pretending that he wasn’t the first boy I ever crushed on. Pretending that I wasn’t that awkward foreign kid who would follow him around the estate every summer, just waiting for him to notice me. But I don’t.
“Umm, yeah, we used to spend summer here as kids. I think the last time was maybe ten years ago.”
He studies me, eyes moving from one feature to the next, and fuck if I can’t help it; when his gaze moves to my mouth, I lick my lips. He mirrors my action, and a slight blush rises to his cheeks as his eyes go wide.
“I remember. You’re the blond kid.”
Ouch. Okay, so he obviously made a bigger impact on me than I did on him.
“You used to visit your aunt. Your hair is still amazing.”
I feel my cheeks grow warm as my stomach flips at his compliment.
“Thanks. You look pretty much the same as I remember, too.”
“Wow, so you work here now?”
“Oui. This is where I fell in love with baking, so when Jack asked if I wanted to come on as his dessert chef, I made the move.”
“That cheesecake, by the way, is the best I’ve ever had. How did you get it to look like a flower?”
“Secrets of the kitchen. You’ll have to come watch me work one night while you are here.”
“Definitely. Oh, hey we used to do that, didn’t we?”
“What?”
“Sit in the kitchen while the other chef cooked. What was his name again?”
“Henry?”
“Yes, Henry. I remember we’d sit on stools watching, and then when he’d turn away, we’d try to sneak in a taste, right?”
I laugh. “Oui, yes, we did, many times. Jack used to do the same thing to me. I had to set out a cup of spoons just for him.”
“Wow, I can’t believe I remember that. I thought I’d forgotten this place entirely.”
“Well, it has been a while since you’ve been back. Why did you stop coming?”
“Mom and Uncle Jack had a fight about something, and we just stopped. She says she always planned to make up with him and come back here, but she never got to it, and now… well, now it’s too late.”
“She can always come back here.”
“She says she might, but I don’t know. With Jack gone, it will probably be too hard for her. The memories might just be too painful. I know I can’t go back to Savannah after…” He trails off, the lightness in him drifting away, and the frown returning. “Maybe we should just sell. I saw that a few of the other places around here have gotten a pretty good price.”
“I won’t be selling,” I say, standing from the booth. I can’t sit here and do this right now. I’m tired, and he’s tired, and it’s just better if we leave it for tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep, he’ll see reason. “You enjoy your evening. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing for breakfast at five. Chef Henry handles lunch and the first courses of dinner, so if you would like to talk more about the plans for Buxton Estate, we can maybe take a walk?”
“I don’t think you will be able to change my mind,” he says, tilting his head to look up at me. “I have no idea how to run a hotel.”
“I can guarantee you’ve got more of a chance learning how to run this estate than you do convincing me to sell. Sleep well, Mr. Buxton.”