Spark (Heat #2) (6 page)

"We're planning a surprise party for Chef's birthday," Maribel whispers in my ear. "It's going to blow his mind."

I did that last night. Technically, it wasn't his mind, but it was close enough.

"Does he even like surprises?" Doubt punctuates my tone. I don't see Tyler as the type to embrace an experience where a bunch of people scream at him in a darkened room all in pursuit of wishing him a happy birthday.

"Who doesn't love a surprise party?" She spits back with a fake smile.

Me? Chef Monroe? A large percentage of the population?

"You're going to do this on the night of his birthday?" I ask because I can't think of anything else to say. My mind is preoccupied with the internal debate that's raging inside me. Do I jump onboard this crazy train that is doomed to crash by agreeing to take part in this party or do I warn Tyler so unflattering pictures of him screaming at the top of his lungs out of fear don't inundate social media next Thursday morning?

"That's too obvious." Maribel rolls her eyes. "We're doing it on Tuesday night because he won't suspect a thing."

I give her credit for thinking an inch outside the box. If I was in charge of this party, I'd have it this week so he'd never suspect. No… truthfully, I'd cancel it. I know, for a fact, that Tyler is planning on seeing his sister and her family next Tuesday. He told me that last night when I asked how his niece, Emerson, is. He said she's doing great and that he'll be hanging out with her on Tuesday night when his mom arrives in New York from Boston.

"I think he has plans on Tuesday," I say innocently. "He'll be with his family."

Her lips curve wryly. "He thinks he's having dinner with his family. I talked to his mom. She's helping me plan the party."

"That's great," I mutter.

"I'll text you the details once we firm up all the plans but you've got to promise not to spill the beans, Den."

Suddenly, the fact that she calls me by the same nickname that Sophia does, irks me. I know Mirabel means well but I feel slighted. I know it's unwarranted. I haven't met Tyler's mom yet. I spoke to his sister once. If they think a surprise party is the way to go, I need to fall in step with them.

"I won't say a thing, Maribel." I sigh. "You tell me where to be and when to show up."

"Will do." She touches her index finger to her lips. "We're going to give Chef a birthday he'll never forget."

***

"I think he'll love the gift. I don't even know him and I love it."

"Really?" I look across the table at Sophia. "I'm worried about it. It's only been a few weeks since the fire. You don't think it's too soon?"

Her gaze drops to the frame in front of her. "He's moving forward, Den. He's got you to help him with that. This is just a reminder of what he worked so hard for."

They're typical Sophia words meant to ease my anxiety but they don't even take the edge off. When I was thinking about a birthday gift for Tyler, I considered a dozen different things.

I finally settled on a collage of pictures that I'd taken with my phone during my time at Nova. There's one of Tyler on the set of the morning show, another of him standing next to Darrell discussing the week's menu. My favorite is an image of him staring down at his tablet, his hand cupping his chin. He looks intense, focused and sexy as hell.

After I had prints made of all the photographs, I took them to a framing shop and let them work their magic. The result is a tasteful representation of Tyler during his time at Nova. I bought another identical frame so that next year on his birthday, I can gift him with a collection of images I'll take at Nova's new location. That is, if we're still together, and if I'm still working for him and if he doesn't fire the lot of us after the surprise party.

"Wait until you see the dress I'm making you for Tyler's party." Sophia lets out a sigh. "It's so hot."

"How hot?" I cock a brow.
"It's a 'he won't be able to keep his hands off of you' hot dress."

"Show it to me." I skim my fingers over the edge of the frame, feeling a small sense of relief that Sophia understood the meaning of the gift. If she gets it, Tyler will too.

"No way." She shakes her head. "I'm sewing it tonight. You can try it on this weekend. That still gives me plenty of time to do the alterations before Tuesday."

My bottom lip juts out into a pout. "That's not fair. Can you at least tell me the color so I know what shoes I'll be wearing?"

"Nope." She picks up a bag of potato chips from the table and rips them open. "It's a surprise for the surprise party."

"You know I hate surprises, Soph." I motion for her to tilt the bag toward me. I reach in to grab a chip before I pop it in my mouth.

"You'll love this one. Trust me. I promise that Tyler Monroe won't be able to take his eyes off of you when he sees you next Tuesday night."

I walk into what will soon be the bustling dining room of Nova. The walls have been painted a pale shade of grey. The light hardwood floors are partially installed and the sublime lighting fixtures are all in place.

It's definitely different than old Nova in both design and size. I haven't heard the exact number of seats for dinner service, but I can tell that it's at least thirty percent more than our old location.

Tyler was quoted, in a Times article last summer, as saying that he wished that Nova could seat more people. Ironically, it soon will. Hunter announced just yesterday that reservations are filled for the first four months after opening. Success definitely follows Chef Monroe wherever he goes.

"Can you help me unload a crate of plates?" Drea taps me on the shoulder.

"You're in today?" I glance at the large, stainless steel clock that is hanging on the wall. It's a temporary adornment for the contractor's crew. They're only permitted to work ten hours a day, and not a minute more. They never stray from that. Once the clock nears quitting time, they start packing up. Union rules are iron clad, apparently, even if a job is half-done when the clock strikes six.

"Darrell wanted me here to help with organizing the kitchen." She looks confused. "You know I'm back full-time, right?"

I didn't know that. I haven't kept track of what's been going on at Nova other than my own schedule. Darrell asked me to help out three days a week, mostly mornings. I've done everything from washing pots and pans to helping him prep some of the tasting menus.

The kitchen is complete, for the most part, and Darrell and a few of the other chefs, chosen by Tyler, have put the space to good use. They've been cooking sample plates as they ready for the opening.

We're still a few weeks away from that but under Tyler's watchful eye, the staff has been closing in on what will be a new, seasonal menu to relaunch Nova.

"I'm not working." I glance over Drea's shoulder toward the kitchen. "Is Chef Monroe around?"

"Not anymore." She shakes her head. "He took off with Maribel about an hour ago. They went out to celebrate."

"Celebrate?"

Tyler's birthday party isn't for another few days but maybe Maribel took it upon herself to treat him to an early celebratory lunch. I don’t feel an ounce of anxiety over the fact that she seems to have a crush on my boyfriend. I know he finds it flattering. I think it's sweet.

"Her promotion," she says effortlessly. "Maribel was so stoked when she heard that she's a senior chef so the two of them went out to toast to her success."

***

"I guess that from now on, I'm technically your boss, Cadence." Mirabel tosses that gem right into my face when she arrives back at Nova.

"Congratulations," I manage through clenched teeth.

I have no right to be as pissed as I am that she was offered the position. She's been with the restaurant longer than I have. She's skilled and deserves to be recognized for her talent.

She's not as good a chef as I am though. Tyler told me that himself.

"You're happy for me, aren't you, Cadence?"

"I am." My traitorous mouth just pops that out.

She claps her hands together loudly as she surveys the space. "I knew you would be. I'm going to make sure every junior chef in the kitchen works as hard as they can for Tyler. He deserves it. I'll the best senior chef that he's ever had."

I'm so irritated that all I can do is nod.

"Can I tell you a secret?" She curves her index finger in the air. "Someone else who works here is going to be a senior chef too but you can't tell anyone I told you that."

My heart strums in my chest. It's a happy beat. She has to be talking about me. I'm more experienced than any other junior chef at Nova. I'm actually going to be promoted too. I can barely contain my excitement as I wait for her to confirm it. "You can tell me."

"You promise you'll act super surprised when Chef announces it?"

I nod my head feverishly. "I'll put on a great show. He'll never know that you told me, Marbiel. I promise."

She pulls on the sleeve of my blouse. I quickly realize that she wants me to stand in the corner with her even though we are the only two people in the dining room. Everyone else followed Tyler into the kitchen when he got back with Maribel from their celebratory drink, or drinks, judging by the slight slur in her voice.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone." She looks back over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "Chef won't like it if he knows I told you, but we're friends, right?"

"We are." My mouth curves into a genuine smile. It has taken time but I feel like we're fringing on the border of what could be a real friendship. The age difference doesn't matter to me. I like Maribel and since we'll both be taking on more responsibility when Nova reopens, we'll be able to lean on each other, not only as co-workers, but also as friends.

"Someone is coming." She turns toward the approaching footsteps. "I better tell you now."

I arch both brows, craning my neck so I can hear her.

"It's Rolly. Rolly is getting bumped up to senior chef right alongside me."

I stare at her lips.

I couldn't have heard her correctly. Rolly sounds nothing like Cadence. Why in the fuck would she say Rolly's name? He started at Nova a day after I did. He's a few years older than me but I've logged ten times more hours in the industry than he has. He worked in real estate until he went to culinary school two years ago.

"Rolly? I repeat back quietly. "As in Rolly who started at the same time as me?"

"That's him," she says as she looks to the left to where Tyler and a few other people have entered the room. "Remember that you can't tell anyone, Cadence. Tyler will have my neck if you do."

Tyler.

I stare at him as he nears. He told me that I was the most talented junior chef working at Nova yet Maribel and Rolly are the ones he handed the promotions to. That means better hours and more money for both of them.

"Do you want to take off, Cadence?" His eyes cut to mine. "I'm cooking dinner for us tonight."

"For us?" Mirabel jokes as she loops her arm through Tyler's. "What's on the menu, Chef?"

I exhale on an unsteady breath. "That's a great idea. You should join us, Maribel. We can keep the celebration going."

"I'll grab a bottle of champagne on my way over." She glances over at me. "Are you going home to change first, Cadence? If you are we can ride to Tyler's together in a taxi."

Tyler's gaze is locked on my face.  I sense it before I turn to confirm it. He arches his brows in a silent question. He wants to know why the fuck I'm inviting Mirabel to our dinner date.

We're even since I want to know why the hell I was passed over twice for a senior chef position. I can accept the fact that he saw Mirabel as more qualified than me. I'd argue the point, and even challenge her to a cook-off if I thought it would do any good.

I know that Tyler views her as mature and experienced. I get that.

Rolly is a completely different story.

I'm better than him.

He fucks up on an almost daily basis.

His concept of flavors is skewed. Darrell is constantly on his ass about that.

"We'll all get together another evening, Maribel." Tyler points a finger at me. "Cadence and I have plans after dinner. You understand, don't you?"

Her eyes volley from his face to mine before disappointment settles over her expression. "I'll celebrate with my family. They're all pumped that I'm a senior chef."

"They must be very proud of you," I say tightly. "You deserve it, Maribel. You've worked hard for it."

Without warning, her arms are around me, pulling me into her chest. "That means a lot coming from you, Den. Thank you for being so supportive."

***

"You're pissed that Maribel was bumped up to senior chef, aren't you?"

It doesn't take a mind reader to figure that one out. He's basing it on the fact that I haven't said more than two words to him the entire time I've been at his place. I haven't had to. He's talked my ear off about his plans for the new location.

Tyler's energized in a way I haven't seen before. I'd join in on the fun if I didn't have Rolly's name etching a path of fury in the base of my brain.

Rolly? I still don't fucking understand how Rolly leapfrogged over me to land a senior chef job.

"You wouldn't have given her the job if she didn't deserve it."

His face snaps up. He stares at me. "Is that sarcasm or do you really feel that way?"

It's both. It's a little of both or it's a lot of sarcasm and a sliver of honesty.

"Maribel works hard," I say evenly. "She's been at Nova longer than I have."

"That's the main reason why I gave the position to her." He reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. "I may have joked about it, but when I found out there was a possibility that she was going to leave Nova, I panicked. I want her to finish out her career in my kitchen. She's too valuable an employee to lose."

I stare at our hands. His is much larger than mine. It's stronger, more experienced in every way. "She'll stay loyal until the day she retires. The promotion guarantees that."

"That's exactly how I viewed the situation." He scoops my hand into his. "I've missed us like this. I want to fuck you, Cadence."

Slow your roll, Chef. Slow. Your. Roll.

"We just ate." Technically, he just ate. I picked at the pork loin he prepared for us. I lost my appetite earlier when I realized that I'll have to answer to Rolly even though he doesn't know the difference between parsley and cilantro.

My phone chimes. It's a reprieve from this. An escape from the mounting anger that's threatened to consume me since I got here. I bought myself some time to change my clothes and quell my frustration when I told him back at Nova that I needed to shower before dinner.

I stripped off the jeans and blouse I was wearing earlier and threw on a blue wrap dress before I spent the next thirty minutes pacing a line in my apartment.

I yank my hand free of his and pull my phone toward me just as it chimes again. I drop my eyes to the screen, faintly aware that Tyler is staring at me in silence.

I read the only new message. It's from Brendon.

Hey. 1 of our senior chefs quit yesterday. Let's talk about the job. No strings. I need a good chef and UR it.

Irony, with all its bittersweet tones, has never been this tempting.