Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
We stood there for a moment in silence. I grimaced, unsure what to say. “I’m not the best at this.”
“At what?”
“New friendships.”
“Oh. That’s okay.” She moved in closer and whispered, “I have a PhD in the arena of friendship making. Though, it comes with toxic people pleasing tendencies, so I don’t know if I’m any help.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed you around town talking to any and everyone.”
“Wait.” She raised an eyebrow. “Was that a laugh?”
I cleared my throat. “No. I choked on air.”
She waved a finger. “No, no. That was a chuckle. I know a chuckle when I hear one.”
“Allergies,” I lied.
She smiled so big.
That full blown grin of hers? Fuck yeah. I liked that.
“How often do you notice me around town?” she asked as she traced her shoe in circles on the concrete.
I huffed and brushed the bridge of my nose with my thumb. “Not often. Hardly ever.”
A lot. Always. All the fucking time, Yara.
“Oh, yeah, okay,” she said sarcastically, nodding with a wink. “Don’t worry, Mr. Black. I notice you quite often, too.”
She left me slightly confused about the whole exchange. She didn’t seem to hold any resentment toward me after I apologized. It was as if she gave me a full second chance. Tatiana was right—Yara was the kind of person to forgive others.
I quietly swore I wouldn’t give her another reason to have to forgive me again.
Todd
Did you see my other text, Alex?
Alex
Not ready yet. Soon though.
Soon.
Time was an odd concept. Some days felt as if they lasted forever, and others felt as if they’d flown by. The restaurant was officially a success, and the staff was officially terrified of me. That was all I needed—good reviews and a terrified staff. Teresa would’ve been thrilled.
As I hurried around the kitchen for yet another busy night, the line cooks worked as hard as they possibly could to keep up with the orders. I knew I could be grumpy toward them all, but I was secretly impressed with their abilities to work in such intense situations.
“Sorry, Alex, can I have a second?” Tatiana asked, stepping into the kitchen, holding her hands against her chest, moving as if to avoid being in the way. “Can I speak to you real fast? Just for one second.”
I glanced over my shoulder toward Tatiana before turning back to the jerk chicken paella dish sitting on the stove in front of me, which Sammy was cooking. “Tatiana, if you’re not at the hostess stand, then you aren’t working,” I scolded. “Which means you’re not doing your job.”
The bustle of the kitchen was my favorite sound of every evening. The banging of pots and pans, people shouting orders up, me yelling at mistakes being made. Luckily for me, after opening my fifth restaurant and holding two Michelin stars, not many mistakes that took place in my kitchens. I made sure of that by hiring the best of the best.
That night at Isla Iberia, each table was full and the kitchen buzzed with intensity. Cooks danced past one another grabbing ingredients, plating meals, and adding the perfect balance of seasonings to each dish. I moved around double and triple-checking each entrée before it left for a table.
The restaurant had been open for only a few weeks now, and every reservation was booked for a year out. Needless to say, Isla Iberia was a success.
Tatiana cleared her throat, following me to and from each station as I approved dishes. “Yes, Alex, I understand. I just, I need a minute to speak to you and—”
“First it was a second, and now it’s a minute. Which one, Tatiana?” I spat out, turning to face her.
“Uh, um, a moment’s time?” she said, yet it came out as a question. She seemed nervous, which was the opposite of her personality. Normally, she’d quickly check me for speaking back to her in such a way.
“What is it?” I asked. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to cry? What is it?” I grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to the side of the kitchen for privacy. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, no. I’m all right. It’s just… There’s a situation at the front.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to expand on that?”
“Well, it seems, there seems to be, um…” Before she could finish her sentence, a sound burst out from the front of the restaurant. A sound that remarkably resembled a dog barking. Why would a dog be barking in my restaurant?
“What was that?” I snapped, standing taller as I hovered over Tatiana’s small frame.
“That’s the situation.”
The whole kitchen staff paused, turning their heads to the front of the restaurant. I shot them all a stern look. “What do you think you’re all doing? Get back to work!”
“Yes, Chef!” they responded in unison and went back to work.