Recipe For Seduction (A Madewood Brothers Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (5 page)

“What the hell, V? I wasn’t done.”

“Yes, you are. We need to have a little chat, you and I.”

Cal looked around the room. “Where’s Mark?”

She scoffed. The tiny bit of leniency he’d shown this morning had worked. Cal was on board with whatever he wanted. But not for long.

“Sorry. Mark isn’t going to help you this time, bud.”

Chapter Four

Finn paced the lounge of Carmel. Veronica would be here any minute to drop off Cal. What were the odds the kid would show up without a big chip on his shoulder?

Finn had briefed his staff last night about the new addition to the kitchen. Luckily, his employees were accommodating. They all had the same spirit of helping each other and welcoming new staff. They were a family.

His sous chef, Chris Landry, sidled up behind him. “So, does this kid you hired have good references?” When Finn didn’t respond, Chris groaned. “Shit. He doesn’t have any references, does he?”

Finn turned and acknowledged with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Boss.” Chris tugged at the sides of his chef jacket. It hung open, revealing his black T-shirt. “I thought Cole was the one who took in strays. Part of the reason why I work here with you and not for him.”

Finn’s brother Cole Murphy was the “socially enlightened” one in the family, and usually hired graduates from the Cooking for the Future program to staff his restaurant’s kitchen. Luckily for Cole, the kids always worked out—or they wouldn’t have graduated.

Finn’s protective mode kicked in. “He’s not a stray.”

“Is he at least in your program?” Chris slid the black buttons of his jacket through the slits, the hideous scar on his left hand still visible. Five years ago, he’d burned himself with hot oil. The smell of burning flesh still sizzled in Finn’s nostrils even after all this time, whenever he saw that scar.

“Cal’s a friend of the family and he needs the discipline,” Finn explained. “So I need you to be on board. No favors. No leniency.”

Chris rubbed his hands together. “Well, if that’s the case, this might be fun.”

Late afternoon sunlight burst into the restaurant as the front door opened. Through the opaque glass, Finn saw the silhouettes of Veronica and Cal.

She stuck her head around the wall and peered into the lounge. She smiled when she caught sight of him. “Hi, Finn.”

“You’re right on time,” he said. He mentally cringed. He sounded like an ass. Especially since they weren’t on time. They were ten minutes late.

The kid was stone-faced, which only confirmed that Finn was trying too hard. Cal’s shoulders slumped forward—no doubt weighed down by the enormous chip he’d placed there the moment he walked through Carmel’s front door.

Finn needed to get hold of himself. He knew this kid. He’d interacted with him for years.

Veronica maneuvered between the tables toward him. “I couldn’t let your newest employee be late on his first day.”

The closer they got, the more twitchy Chris became beside him. He ran his hands through his black hair. He fingered his chin then tapped his nose. All the while his eyes were fixated on Veronica. What the hell?

They stood across from each other on opposite sides of a brown coffee table, which provided an excellent buffer between them.

Veronica elbowed Cal. He held out the manila envelope Finn had had given her yesterday. “It’s all there,” the kid muttered. “Job application. Emergency and medical information.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

The kid shrugged. “Veronica filled it out.”

“Have we met before?” Chris asked, staring at Veronica with a confused, yet excited, look.

Finn panicked. Of course. Chris might recognize her from the burlesque show. They had been sitting in the front row and Veronica’s performance hadn’t disguised her very well. Finn wondered if she realized Chris had been the same person who’d sat next to him at the show.

“Yes, maybe once or twice. In this restaurant.” She fidgeted and slipped her arm through Cal’s, blocking most of her body. She had clearly become uncomfortable with Chris’s stare. Cal straightened, his arm moving across her body in protection mode.

“No…” Chris tapped his chin. “I can’t put my finger on it. Did you—”

Finn clapped his hands together. “We should probably get started.”

“Right.” She squeezed Cal’s arm. “I’m sure you have lots of chef things to do.”

She made eye contact with Cal, and Finn could have sworn he saw her mouth, “Be nice,” before she turned and walked out the front door. He didn’t know why, but he had been hoping for a cue. Anything to let him know she was still on board with their plans. Too much eye contact might have made things a bit obvious. But none at all? He was going to have to lay down some ground rules.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” Cal crossed his arm over his chest. Now that she had left, the tiny bit of insecurity the kid had been sporting on his face disappeared. In its place was pure disdain.

“You’re here to work,” Finn told him firmly. “There’s a uniform for you in the kitchen. Just ask one of the others to get you set up. Chef Landry and I will be right there.”

Cal glared at them both, his eyes shifting from left to right. Finn mirrored his actions, crossing his arms over his chest. This kid was going to give him a hard time. Probably harder than any foster kid he’d ever had in the program, because of their personal connection. But Finn was up to the challenge.

Apparently sensing he wouldn’t win, Cal cursed under his breath and stalked to the kitchen. When he was out of sight, Finn let out a heavy breath.

“Is that the girl from the show?” his sous chef asked eagerly.

Great
. Finn ground his jaw and waved off the comment. “What are you talking about?”

“Your friend.” Chris’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I knew she looked familiar.”

Hell, no. Finn would never confirm his hunch. They’d gone to that show because Chris’s new girlfriend had been performing. Not so his sous chef could drool over Veronica.

“She’s the housewife! I wasn’t sure until she walked away. But damn, I’d recognize that ass anywhere.”

Finn fisted his hands but kept them at his sides. “I think I would have recognized one of my oldest friends onstage.”

After a moment, Chris reluctantly deflated. “I guess you’re right.”

Finn needed to change the subject, fast. “Don’t you have some vegetables to chop, or something?”

Chris smiled and straightened his stance. “Yes, Chef.”

His sous chef was right. She had a great ass. But he’d be damned if any other man was going to have images in his head of that ass up close and personal.

He entered his kitchen and immediately the smell of garlic suffused his nostrils. A pan of roasted bulbs fresh from the oven sat on the counter, waiting to be used for their garlic mashed potatoes.

Carmel’s kitchen was older, but made up for it by being equipped with brand-new appliances. It had been the first restaurant purchased by Arthur Madewood, husband to Finn’s late foster mother, Vivian.

He was fifteen when Vivian had plucked him and Cole from foster care. Neil, their oldest foster brother, had already been living with her for a while, and a year later, Jack had made his entrance. Not a day went by when Finn wasn’t thankful for his luck, and for Vivian, the woman they all called mother. Not only did he not have to face his adulthood all alone in the world, but he also didn’t have to worry about a job or money. All four of the foster brothers had fallen easily into the chef role, and to this day, above all else Finn loved cooking and making people happy with his food.

But sometimes, he went to his dark place and asked the questions no one else wanted to ask. Such as, if Arthur hadn’t passed away, would Vivian ever have adopted them?

“Excuse me, Chef.” One of his line cooks brushed passed Finn, reaching for the pan of garlic bulbs.

Cal had already changed. He was huddled in the corner, looking good in his checkered pants and white chef coat. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before he was promoted to the line, and he’d have his name stitched onto the material.

“Have you met everyone?” Finn asked him.

Cal nodded.

Chris stood at the island in the middle of the kitchen preparing veal for the evening’s menu. His two line chefs, Erin Brock and Richard Sullivan, prepared their own items at opposite sides of the kitchen.

“Let’s get started, then.” Finn opened the manila envelope and pulled out Cal’s documents. “You will work five nights a week. Three p.m. until closing time.”

“When does the restaurant close?”

“You should be out of here by midnight.”

Cal’s mouth dropped open.

“You’ll be responsible for washing every pot, pan, and dish that is used in this restaurant,” Finn went on.

Cal scoffed. “I thought I was cooking?”

“Eventually, but you’ve got to start from the bottom.”

The kid definitely couldn’t hide his feelings. They were displayed as plain as day on his face. He was not a happy camper.

Working in a kitchen was very militaristic. There were distinct job descriptions. Ultimately, Finn was the captain and everyone else yielded to his command. Although he’d never use the position to mistreat or pull a power trip, he was in charge and everyone knew and accepted it.

Immediately his mind went to the bedroom and the thought of exercising his power there…and Veronica yielding to his command.

“Finn?”

He shook his head and focused on Cal in front of him. He had no idea how long he might have been talking.
Great leadership skills, Finn
. Why listen to his employees when he could fantasize about dominating a woman? Christ.

“I appreciate you getting my sister off my back,” Cal was saying, “but…a dishwasher?”

Finn frowned. “As far as I’m concerned, your sister should be all over your back after your little dropout stunt.” It wasn’t the smartest move on Cal’s part. Although, in truth, taking a year off wasn’t the end of the world. Not that he’d ever say it out loud, especially within earshot of Veronica.

“Shit. Is there anything she doesn’t tell you?” the kid muttered in disgust.

There were lots of things she didn’t tell him. Such as, how sexy she was underneath those glasses and conservative clothes.

“How do you know it wasn’t Mark who told me?” he returned.

That shut Cal up pretty quickly.

Finn went into the usual new-hire spiel. “We have a team meeting every day at four o’clock, one hour before the doors open.” He walked over to the grill where Richard was watching over a batch of red peppers. Their skin bubbled and blackened.

Cal trailed reluctantly behind, eyeing the peppers.

“At our meeting we discuss the specials, any preparation issues, and we have a meal. Nothing elaborate, it’s more to keep us fueled for the night.”

Cal’s eyebrow lifted in surprise. But his gaze was still fixated on the peppers. Finally, he asked, “Aren’t you burning those?”

“The more burned the skin, the more smoky the flavor. We use roasted red peppers for a few things on the menu.”

“Well, if burning menu items is a good thing at this restaurant, you should have hired Veronica, not me.”

Finn laughed, and so did Richard. Erin snorted from her spot tending a pot of boiling water. They were all familiar with Veronica’s cooking skills—or rather, lack of them.

“Everything you learn here, Cal, you’ll be able to take with you into the real world.” A man needed to know how to take care of himself first, before he could even think about being able to care for a family. A lesson his mother had taught him. “Besides, all women love a man who can cook.”

Cal straightened and preened. “I can cook some stuff.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Spaghetti. French fries and chicken fingers.” He listed the items off on his fingers.

“Very gourmet, kid,” Chris said drily as he butterflied a piece of veal.

“Sounds like something Veronica would make.” Finn chuckled. “You’ve been living with your sister for too long.”

Cal shoulders instantly tightened and he froze in place. “I’m not leaving her. You can’t make me.”

“Whoa, there.” Finn raised his hands in defense. That was not the reaction he’d been anticipating. He’d merely been commenting on Veronica’s love of quick and easy meals—mainly of the frozen variety. But Cal had taken his joke to heart.

“Well, I’m not!”

“I didn’t say you have to leave,” Finn assured him, “but if you don’t find something productive to do with your time, Veronica might have other ideas.”

It took all of ten seconds for the kid to change his tune as he lowered his eyes to the floor and his voice cracked as he said, “Fine. What do I have to do?”

Finn pointed to the dishwasher. “There is a sink full of dirty dishes for you to start with.”

The thought of leaving Veronica obviously scared this kid to death. But Cal wasn’t really a kid any more. He was a man. Eighteen years old and struggling to make his way in the world. And Finn was going to do everything he could to help him find…whatever it was he was looking for.

Witnessing Cal’s little outburst, it now made sense why Cal’s relationship with Mark was strained. Mark had left him behind, and Veronica was the only person Cal felt he could rely on.

Finn wondered if she knew the extent of her younger brother’s separation anxiety. It was something she would have to nip in the bud. Otherwise, her plan to start pursuing her own dreams was going to be severely hampered.

…

Veronica made her way to the dining room of Bistro, where Penn and Sterling were already waiting for her. Bistro was Cole’s French-American fusion restaurant.

She rushed past the bar and checked her appearance in the mirror behind it. She was a little disheveled, but still presentable. She joined the ladies at their table at the back of the dining room, and hefted her bags onto it. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

As a wedding planner, she made it an unbreakable rule always to be on time for her appointments.
Always
. But not today. It had taken a full twenty minutes to get Cal off his ass and into the car to go to work. Just one more example of why her little brother needed discipline and firm direction. Something to keep him from plummeting into a downward spiral.

“Not at all,” Sterling said. “We just arrived ourselves.” She slouched out of her red jacket and sat in the seat farthest from Veronica. Her dark jeans fit tight to her body. She wore a black V-neck T-shirt, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was as plain as a mouse, but still exuded an elegance that kept her out of the frumpy category.