Page 64 of Laced With Secrets
I squeezed Jake’s arm. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he said breathlessly.
“The greenhouse!” Penny prompted. “Tell him about the greenhouse.”
“On yeah! They have a four-story greenhouse right in the center of the restaurant,” Jake continued. “It’s farm-to-table, except the farm is vertical and inside the restaurant. Diners eat surrounded by tropical plants, orchids, palms.”
“That sounds incredible,” I said, meaning it. I’d never heard of anything like it.
“It gets better.” Penny nudged Jake’s foot with his own, his lips curling into an expectant smile.
“They grow their own ingredients,” Jake continued, barely pausing for breath. He sat up, his hands moving as he talked, painting pictures in the air. “The chefs forage from it every morning for the day’s menu. There’s a whole section of rare orchids they use for garnish. And Bromeliads. Palms. Things you can’t find at most regular suppliers.”
“What’s on the menu?” Penny asked, clearly delighted to see Jake this animated.
“Pappardelle with five-spice braised short ribs. Squid ink linguine with lemongrass brown butter. Branzino with nam prik verde—it’s like Italian salsa verde but with Thai fish sauce and lime.” Jake’s voice took on that dreamy quality he got when talking about food. “The dessert menu is what I’ll be working on. Panna cotta infused with pandan leaves. Tiramisu made with Thai coffee. Bomboloni filled with Thai basil-infused pastry cream.”
“You’re making me hungry,” I said, rubbing my bump. “Do they do takeout?”
Jake nodded.
“Tell me more.” I sank back into the soft beanbag, already plotting ways to persuade my alpha that we absolutelyneededtakeout from Jake’s new place of employment.
To celebrate. Yes, to celebrate Jake’s job and moving into our new home.
“The fusion concept works because both cuisines are so herb-forward.” Jake sank further into the beanbag, his body collapsing with a soft whoosh. “Italians love basil, parsley, rosemary. Thai cooking uses Thai basil, cilantro, mint, lemongrass, kaffir lime. The greenhouse supports both.”
“When do you start?” I asked.
“Monday.” Jake’s smile was incandescent. “They want me to spend the first couple of weeks just learning the greenhouse. What’s ready to harvest, how to handle the delicate plants, which herbs pair with which dishes.” His eyes lit up. “Did you know they’re growing three varieties of Thai basil? And they’re trying to propagate Thai holy basil and sawtooth coriander.”
“Sounds like an amazing opportunity for you,” I said.
“I hope so.” Jake’s expression turned vulnerable. “It feels too good to be true, you know? After Boston…”
“It’s not too good to be true,” Penny insisted. “You earned this. You’re talented and creative and you deserve good things.”
“Blake cleared it, right?” Dominic suddenly materialized at the beanbag’s edge, holding Blake’s tablet. His tone was casual, but I felt his attention sharpen through our bond.
“Does Blake know you have that?” I asked, looking pointedly at the sleek device.
“I confiscated it,” Dominic said without a trace of remorse. “Blake’s pouting now.”
I stifled a laugh as he turned his attention back to Jake.
“Has he ran a background check on the restaurant yet?”
“Yeah, completely clean,” Jake confirmed. “No Antonelli connections they could find. The owner’s legitimate—built his career in Italy and Southeast Asia over the past six years, hospitality industry. This is his first U.S. restaurant.”
“And the owner?” I asked. “What’s he like?”
“Mr. Srisai? Haven’t met him yet,” Jake said. “He’s been traveling—Thailand, I think? The head chef handled my interview and said the owner trusts his judgment completely on hiring decisions.”
Jake’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile free of the tension that had haunted him for months. “Apparently the owner’s a perfectionist. Everything has to be exactly right.”
“Sounds intense,” Penny observed.
“When does he get back?” Dominic asked.