Page 11 of Third Time Lucky

ASHER

‘Before you think I set this up, let me explain. I honestly didn’t realize this job was for Mitzi until I got here today.

If it’s uncomfortable for you, I can leave…

’ I say, fidgeting nervously with the pan in my hand after nearly dropping it on the gas stove that I’m not sure has ever been used, as she enters the room.

‘No,’ she forces out. ‘Don’t go.’

‘Don’t go?’ I ask, as if I heard her wrong.

Mitzi and I exchanged words as we both realized my connection to Lucy when I got here.

I couldn’t predict how my presence would affect her, but Mitzi assured me it would be positive – after her initial shock, that is.

And now, as she stands there, speaking in short sentences with confusion written all over her face, I can’t help but wonder how this may unfold.

Despite mentally preparing myself, her presence catches me off guard.

She looks nothing like the glamorous woman I saw in Vegas – somehow, she’s even more stunning, casually dressed in leggings and a hoodie, her damp hair is tucked behind her ears, which are adorned with multiple silver earrings.

Not a stitch of makeup is on her face, and the slight freckling over her nose that I remember from our youth, catches my attention.

I always thought her freckles were adorable, but as a teen she was pretty insistent on finding makeup that had ‘ full freckle coverage ’ – her words.

Today, her skin glows like it’s made of glitter, and half a shocked smile sits crookedly on her pretty face.

She’s absolutely having an out-of-body experience at this moment.

‘I want you to stay,’ she says, clearly unsure of herself.

I set the pan down on the stove, the sizzling sound fading into the background as I turn to face her. Her eyes search mine like they’re hunting for a hint or clue in my expression – but there are only a couple of things going through my head right now.

One – she’s more beautiful than I remember. And two – she’s OK after Vegas. Thank God.

The smile on my face is probably ridiculous. ‘OK. I’ll stay then,’ I say, taking a step closer, closing the distance between us. ‘But you, sit,’ I say, guiding her to the barstools.

She allows me to help her into her seat but remains silent, fixing her gaze on me for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

‘I, uh— I didn’t realize you were a chef?’ she asks the statement as a question – like maybe she’d forgotten.

‘I mentioned it briefly in Vegas,’ I reply.

Her eyes go wide.

Shit. Why did I say that?! Maybe she’ll punch me for reminding her. I can only imagine the memories it’ll trigger.

‘But, uh— I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that shitshow. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. Worst trip, ever, by the way.’

I didn’t play in the blackjack tournament that weekend. Aaron and I just drank, for about twenty-four hours straight. Until she and what had happened wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. On the plus side, I didn’t get arrested that time.

‘Understatement of the year…’ she mumbles as her cheeks pink slightly.

Thick silence falls over the room as I continue to cook.

Occasionally, as I caramelize the onions, I glance in her direction, and each time, she’s got her eyes on me, but I’m not sure she’s seeing me with whatever is going through her head.

She’s reeling, it shows all over her face and I might be the one to blame.

‘Should this be weird?’ I ask.

Her eyes unglaze with a slight shake of her head. ‘Um… do you feel weird?’

‘Sort of,’ I admit. ‘As if I’ve done something wrong.’ I hesitate, unsure if I should keep speaking, but I have to know, because I’ve spent countless nights worried about this woman. ‘Did I?’

‘I—er… you—’ She tries to speak but clamps her mouth shut, then opens it again, but no words leave her lips.

The last thing I want is her hating me for what I did. What I had to do. The smell of something ‘off’ earns my attention, and I race back to my pan.

‘Please tell me I didn’t ruin your life. I’ve thought about it – about you, a lot.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I’ve been worried. Like, did I do the right thing? Should I really have gone so public? Was the video actually necessary?’

She shakes her head, her face softening.

‘Don’t worry, you didn’t ruin anything. That was all Brandon,’ she says his name with a sad sigh.

‘But it’s in the past. Now, I’m doing great.

Totally over that tool. And despite the fact that I’m dressed for bed at six in the evening on a Friday night, I am also over all that Vegas crap.

In fact, I have a date tomorrow night. So, that’s proof I’m not just sitting around here mourning what I thought I had. ’

Mitzi suddenly coughs, covering it up with a sip of water from the bottle on the counter in front of her.

‘You have a date?’ Mitzi asks once she’s recovered.

‘Um… yes ,’ Lucy insists . ‘I told you all about him recently, remember?’

‘No,’ she responds.

The way her eyes go wide and panicky says Mitzi is blowing this story for her.

‘Her memory isn’t what it used to be,’ she says to me behind a hand covering her mouth so her grandmother doesn’t see. She then turns to Mitzi. ‘Remember the lawyer I met with Madi that night we indulged in cake and cocktails?’

With a look as suspicious as suspicious gets, Mitzi nods. ‘Papa Haydn, right?’ Mitzi says. ‘I didn’t realize you’d called him yet.’

‘Didn’t I tell you? We’ve been texting all week.’

‘What’s his name?’ Mitzi challenges her.

‘Tucker— er , Tanner?’

I chuckle to myself, my eyes on the stove. This is awkward.

‘You’re not sure? You’ve been chatting him up all week, and you haven’t memorized his name?’ Mitzi asks.

Lucy bites her lip, avoiding the question. She could be lying. But why? Let’s take a shot in the dark, shall we?

‘This is your first “date” since the wedding, isn’t it?’ I ask, pouring the contents of one of the many bottles of cooking magic I brought with me. Flames shoot toward me and the gasp from Lucy is adorable. I shake the pan, killing the flames.

She cracks a guilty grin, glancing at Mitzi, then back at me. ‘Sort of – how did you know?’

Interesting.

‘Legit, just a good guess.’

‘Well, this is exciting,’ Mitzi says. ‘You’re ready to move on. That deserves the finest of champagnes to celebrate.’ She attempts to leave her seat, but I stop her.

‘I’ll get it,’ I say, throwing the towel I just wiped the counter with over my shoulder. ‘Direct me.’

‘Thank you, sweetheart. Wine Fridge. Bottom shelf.’

I kneel down and pull open the wine fridge tucked under the island countertop full of wine and champagne bottles – and not the cheap stuff.

‘Glasses?’ I ask.

‘Cupboard on the far right,’ Mitzi says.

I meander the kitchen, pulling open cabinets and drawers, looking for what I need to pop the top on this champagne. Lord knows I could use a glass right now, and that’s coming from a guy who usually refuses to drink on the job.

Once we all have a glass, Lucy smiles softly, visibly relaxing in her seat.

‘I can’t believe you were chef three. I don’t understand how it’s even possible.’

‘You should tell him what you told me a few minutes ago about his sample dish,’ Mitzi suggests as she lifts her glass.

‘Mitzi,’ Lucy says under her breath.

‘What was it that you said? “ Trash all the others. My taste buds have fallen in love with chef number three. ” I believe you used the word orgasmic,’ she says through a chuckle, sipping her champagne as cover.

I laugh but rein it in when I notice Lucy’s look of mortification at Mitzi’s repeating the words I couldn’t quite hear from out here earlier.

‘Orgasmic,’ I repeat, a smile creeping through. ‘Well, that’s a high compliment. Thank you.’

Lucy rolls her eyes playfully, flashing me an uncertain smile. ‘You’re welcome – I suppose. So, what smells so good?’

‘That is the savory scent of garlic sizzling, onions caramelizing, and the buttery goodness of chicken breasts roasting in the oven.’

Lucy lets out a small sigh, resting her chin on her left fist as she leans forward, watching me intently. ‘I don’t remember you being into cooking back in school?’

‘I wasn’t,’ I admit. ‘After I moved out, I realized I needed to eat, and I wasn’t a fan of the fast and frozen food my mother loved to serve for every meal, so I learned.

Then, I got into it, learned more and more – went to college, and now, I’m in the transitional period between working for someone else and opening my own restaurant. ’

She gasps with surprise. ‘You’re opening your own restaurant?’

I nod. ‘I am. Downtown, Knob Hill area – my favorite.’

‘Mine too,’ she says softly.

‘Best neighborhood in the city if you ask me. The building is currently being remodeled, and I’m on the hunt for a suitable name. Maybe you two could keep that at the forefront of your mind as I work for you, and if you think of anything fitting, let me know.’

‘Copper and Clover? Saffron and Sage? Cocktails and Cake? Fork and Flame?’ Mitzi throws out options – the champagne not taking long to do its job – none of them bad.

‘I like the idea of “something” and “something,”’ I say. ‘Not sure those are the right words, but great brainstorming, Mitzi.’

She smiles, nodding proudly at Lucy.

‘I’m gonna think about it,’ Lucy says. ‘I feel like I need to know you— er, your cooking better first.’

She wants to know me better? Huh. Why do I like the sound of that? I glance her way, catching her gaze and flashing her a grin. Lucy Gray has suddenly become a mystery I can’t wait to unravel, yet her caution reminds me to be careful of how I handle this.

* * *

I pick up my buzzing phone without bothering to check the caller ID because I already know who it is. Every night at 11p.m. sharp, he calls me – unless we’re together, which is often.