Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I took the resume and looked at it—and nearly dropped it in shock.
“Stevie?” I blurted out.
There she was, her name staring up at me. Stephanie Lake.
“She recently graduated from culinary school,” Brooke replied. She sounded so proud of Stevie. “She was top of her class, super talented. You remember how you taught her how to cook when she did sleepovers at my place? She always made amazing stuff. I’ve been her personal taste-tester when she prepped for exams and I promise you, Dad, she’s top notch.”
I hated to let my daughter down, but… “She might be top notch in school, but she’s still wet behind the ears. She needs to find someone to hire her as a line cook or a sous chef, let her cut her teeth before trying on a head chef role.”
“Theo was fresh out of culinary school and you took a chance on him.”
“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.”
Brooke was more patient with me than I deserved, sometimes. She wouldn’t get upset, she would just sigh. “I highly doubt Stevie is going to seduce your wife, if you ever get another one.”
Ah, that’s the other thing—Brooke wanted me to move on and find someone else. Not right away, of course, but about a year ago she’d started hinting that maybe I should find someone who appreciated me. I knew she just wanted me to be happy again. But I just didn’t - couldn’t - what use was going out into the dating world, using websites and apps or blind dates from friends or even, God forbid, a matchmaking service?
I wouldn’t go bar hopping in hope to find someone, either. Not with the restaurant the way it was. And bars were exhausting. I’d had a lot of fun back in my day, feeling like a wolf on the prowl, but now, what was the point?
I didn’t want to just find another one night stand. I wanted someone I could genuinely care for, share my life with, and fat chance of that happening.
“She’s too young,” I replied, setting Stevie’s resume down. “She’s a good girl and she was always a hard worker but I just can’t take a chance on her.”
Brooke shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“You’ll tell her, then? Let her down easy?”
“Oh no. You’re telling her.” Brooke grinned at me. “I already scheduled an interview for you two.”
Of course she did. Brooke was a loyal person.
“She’ll be here in an hour,” Brooke said, starting to walk out the office door. “Oh.” She paused, her hand on the doorframe. “Be nice to her, okay? She’s always looked up to you. And she can’t possibly be any worse than the last guy.”
The last guy that I hired almost burned down the entire damn restaurant with his flambé. Yeah. Not something I wanted to repeat.
Brooke left, and I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. I hadn’t seen Stevie since her high school graduation and she’d… well. I’d been arguing with Virginia, who had been too busy with Theo down in LA to be there for her only child’s high school graduation. The graduation that we’d been prepping for, the one that had me up with Brooke going over her history, quizzing her on tests, the one that had Stevie helping Brooke with math and science on. The one that Virginia should’ve, of all times and places, been there for.
I’d been kind of losing my temper when Stevie had knocked on the door. I’d never been so grateful for an interruption. She’d tried to hide it, but I think Stevie overheard something, because of the sad look on her face. But she’d made a joke about having champagne, and had made me laugh, and that—I appreciated that. It was a kind and thoughtful gesture, no pity or I’m so sorry like everyone else was giving me at the time.
Stevie and I had always gotten along. Personality wise, she’d be a good chef. She was a little foul-mouthed sasspants, with a dirty sense of humor that she only really showed around people she trusted, and I’d secretly enjoyed it. She could get me to laugh constantly while I taught her how to cook - and she was whip-smart to boot, picked things up easily and followed orders well.
I’d always told Brooke not to swear like Stevie or I’d wash her mouth out with soap, but every time Stevie had come up with a new, colorful phrase like tap-dancing chucklefucks I’d had to work hard to hold in my laughter.
But this wasn’t about personality. This was about experience, and at twenty-one, Stevie was simply too young to be a head chef, especially at a failing restaurant that needed someone really stellar to knock the menu out of the park and bring us back from the brink.
I’d have to let her down easy.
Chapter Two: Stevie