Chapter 12

Journey

I fling myself onto the bed in nothing but my clean tee shirt and underwear. Not going to lie, I’m glad Jason booked this room for me. Who wouldn’t be?

“Not a totally wasted trip,” I say, my voice muffled by the pillow as I close my eyes. “I got my things.”

“I can get you new things,” Jason rumbles from the end of the bed, watching me.

I don’t have the strength to argue anymore.

“Okay. You do that.”

Oh, I bet he’s happy I said that.

“Fine. What’s your size?”

“I’m a 14,” I say, not caring that he knows now. I mean, he saw all of me last night. Literally all.

I shiver at the thought of everything we did in this bed.

“Hey,” I say, listening to him tap away at his phone.

“What is it, shortcake?”

“I’m officially still mad at you, and I still haven’t decided whether I’ll stay at Rubicon. But could you, like, pet me to sleep?”

I get my answer when I feel the bed shift under Jason’s weight. He spoons up behind me. Doesn’t ask me to explain what I want. Doesn’t comment that it’s cute. Doesn’t say that it’s awkward for him since I’m still feeling the way I do about everything that he’s done.

He just…does what I ask him to do.

Jason’s fingers weave softly through my hair, sending a wave of gentle tingles over my scalp. He adjusts himself to get closer, and his warmth heats me. I notice everything as I begin to drift off: the rise and fall of his chest against my back, the way he alternates between letting my hair slip through his hand and caressing my scalp.

“Don’t stop,” I murmur against the pillow.

After a beat, he says, “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

Jason is still behind me when I wake up, but someone else is on the bed, too.

I jerk up, fully awake, and am relieved when my eyes focus. It’s not a person lying on the foot of the bed but a garment bag.

I clutch my chest. “Holy shit, I thought it was a person.”

Jason laughs, his hand caressing my shoulder. “You need glasses.”

Behind me, I feel a specific familiar stiffness pressing into my ass. “And you need to stop flirting because it’s not happening right now. What time is it?”

“Three-thirty.”

I sit up straight and slap his arm away. “We need to get going! We have to prep!”

“You have a few minutes to open your present.”

His face is full of mischief, made all the more mischievous in how he reclines on his side, his head propped up in one hand.

“What present?”

He gestures with his chin at the garment bag.

“Jason, what did you do?”

“I don’t know why it’s a surprise. I told you I would get you new things.”

I pounce to the end of the bed and unzip the black bag. Inside are three hangers with dresses, one more gorgeous than the other. I check the tags. Everything is a size 14.

“What am I supposed to do with these?”

“I’m not sure, but I think what you do is wear them.”

“Smartass.”

I take them out of the bag and examine each one. I can’t believe I told him my size. That alone is a personal detail, but it feels so much more intimate knowing he memorized it and used it.

“Thank you, but I can’t accept these.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t do any of this! I can’t sleep with the chef; I can’t accept hotel rooms, gifts, and all the rest because I work for you!”

Jason sits up, stares at me, then shrugs. “You can do whatever you want.”

“You said you didn’t want to treat me differently.”

“At work. At the restaurant, you still have to work. But outside of work, we do what we want.”

I examine the delicate stitching on the navy blue dress, which is my favorite one. It has a deep lace vee neckline that I would never have been allowed to wear if I still lived under that man’s roof.

Damn. I haven’t thought about my father since last night, before all the daddy’s little girl stuff obliterated all my damn issues out of my thoughts.

Damn, that felt good to not think those garbage thoughts for one night.

This man, this over-the-top chef, did that. He doesn’t know the half of my story but he somehow understood and—well, I would not say that he fixed me, but he helped me reframe a lot of things.

That was good of him. And every minute we spent together yesterday, last night, was so, so good. He made me feel like a queen, even though I assumed we’d go our separate ways.

Carefully, I hang the dresses in the closet, and then turn to find Jason standing behind me.

“Where did you come from?” I laugh, startled.

“I’m stealthy,” he says with a shrug.

“About a lot of things,” I add.

He laughs. “About that, I?—”

I’m not ready to unpack how I feel about him buying the restaurant as some sort of power move so he can have me working for him. But I do want to act on how I feel at this moment.

“Shut up, Chef. Just kiss me.”

He tilts my chin, and our mouths meet in a soft kiss that lasts long enough to make me crave more. He slides his tongue into my mouth, and I moan at the pleasure of it. He grips me around the waist and hitches me close.

I pull away. “No, we’re not doing that here, not now. We have to go to the restaurant and start on the menu samples for the staff, remember?”

“I only need 12 minutes.”

“And it’s a 12-minute walk from here.”

Despite the need to take more, kiss more, touch him everywhere, I push him away and insist we go to work.

“Seriously, how does a man get any work done with a libido like that?” I ask as I punch the down button for the elevator once we’re safely in the hallway, far away from that beautiful bed.

“Huh?”

“How do you get any work done? How did you get this far when you need…as much as you seem to need?”

Jason hasn’t stopped touching me since we left the room.

“Ah, the answer to that is easy,” he says. “No one ever had a hold on me the way you do. I want to be with you every second. It’s that simple.”

As I mull this declaration over, I am mute for the entire walk to the restaurant, and all the way through dinner prep.

Does that mean love? There’s no way.

As much as I would like the idea of love, it’s simply too soon.

On Lola’s way outside to take a break before the doors open, I ask if I can join her.

I really need some fresh air. And some time away from Jason to think.

“You did what?”

Lola takes a drag of her cigarette and offers me one. I politely decline.

“Slept with Jason. But in fairness, I didn’t know who he was or that he was going to buy the whole fucking restaurant!”

Hey eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. “Whoa. Start from the beginning.”

I have no reason to believe she won’t blab this story to the entire staff, but I have the overpowering need to tell this all to another female. My sister is busy with her own family in Fort Lauderdale, and my best friend from culinary school got a job on the set of some cooking contest show, and she has no time to breathe, let alone text.

So, Lola gets the whole hairy, messy saga. The only part I leave out is the spitting and the daddy stuff because I still can’t believe I’m into it.

Lola is invested. “Was he good?”

I nod, my mouth salivating at the memory.

“And did he make you…”

I nod. “More times than I thought possible in one night.”

“Oh wow. And was it big?”

“Lola!”

“Well? Come on, he’s got that BDE, for sure.”

I sigh. “Yes.” So, so big. Oh god. My throat remembers.

“And?”

“And what?” I ask.

“Does he know how to put it in?”

The ground has suddenly become super interesting.

“He didn’t exactly put it in. Not all the way. We did other stuff. Lots and lots of other stuff.” That thigh move. God, that was hot.

“You mean to tell me this man didn’t even get to put it in you, but serviced you multiple times, bought your place of employment just to make sure he can be near you, and you’re…mad?”

I draw a sharp breath ready to make my case for being upset. I have many points to make. A presentation with illustrations in Google Slides has been considered.

But all I can do is think of how he made me feel last night.

And if I really think about it in the way Lola is saying—and this may be crazy—but a deep, dark part of me feels good knowing that Jason is in charge.

I try one weak argument on for size, just to see how it sounds out loud to someone besides Jason. “The worst part is, he decided to buy the restaurant after I told him I’d applied here, and he didn’t tell me. I didn’t know anything until you did this morning.”

A stray cat saunters by, its yellow eyes judging me.

“Fuck,” Lola says, shaking her head. “Big dick, goes down on you five times, buys you dinner, buys you dresses, puts you up at the fucking Ritz, and then buys out the contract of a known weirdo so he can surprise you at work the next day? What an asshole.”

“I know, right?”

“Girl. If you do not marry him right now, I will get a divorce so I can marry him.”

Lola stubs out her cigarette on the brick wall.

And that’s that.