Compliments to the Chef

COMPLIMENTS TO THE CHEF

"Oh, they have avocado toast!"

I cringed. I couldn't get the image of my mom kissing another man out of my head. Avocados were ruined for life. After telling Amanda, she insisted we try the new brunch place. Firefly Valley had one pizza shop and a bar that served pub food. We weren't fancy enough for brunch.

I eyed the Bistro on Maine logo. It had a clever pun for a name, and the menu had food that didn't require a frier. A year ago, this was a breakfast joint, open early enough for hunters. It never caught on, and as quickly as it opened its doors, a for-sale sign went up in the window. I wanted Firefly to be more than a small town. If that meant tolerating avocado toast, I could live with it. Maybe.

"Did you ever eat here when it was Rise and Shine?" I asked.

Amanda shook her head. "They used to close by ten. I know they wanted the morning crowd, but hunters just want coffee. They were doomed to fail."

It was a familiar story for most new businesses coming into town. I feared the same, that at any moment, the comic shop might go under. The Bistro only had ten tables. A max of thirty people could enjoy their not-quite lunch.

Dorothy hovered by the podium near the entrance. Having a hostess made it far too nice for the area. Everybody in town knew Dorothy and her signature purple hair. During school, her son had been our star basketball player and got a scholarship to play at the University of Maine. After graduation, he stuck around and worked at the university as a security guard.

"You folks ready?"

I appreciated the menu had elegant items with blunt explanations. Whoever bought the place understood their clientele.

"I'm going to have the breakfast sandwich with bacon."

"Avocado toast," Amanda blurted out. I fought off the image of my mom playing kissy face.

Dorothy scribbled it on her pad. "Got it. Shouldn't take long. Oh, Jason, I asked the owner if I could put your flier in the window. He said sure."

"Oh, good." The townspeople promoted my event better than I did. "I'll bring one over."

I watched as she walked into the back, pulling at the bottom of her work shirt. It was nicer than the pub, but I thought making her wear a uniform was a bit overkill. It meant that the owner was an out-of-stater and didn't quite understand our culture. I gave it a week before she was in a t-shirt and jeans.

"What's on the agenda for today?"

I tried to sort through the mental to-do list. The convention had taken over my life. If I wasn't talking to vendors, I was reaching out to the schools. The comic shop had turned into a home base for this project, but I still had to check in with other shops on the green.

"Today? Not much. Lots of emails and phone calls. Over the next few weeks, I need to pop into the shops and make sure everybody is ready."

"You mean I can work on my comic today?"

I shot Amanda a look. If she didn't spend all her time procrastinating, she'd have finished months ago. What she called her ‘process' was one part work and two parts surfing the internet for videos of puppies yawning.

"Oh, that reminds me."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. With a couple clicks, she slid it across the small table. There was a picture of me with a play button. The only thing worse than recording the promo would be hearing it. I pressed the button, ready to cringe at the sound of my voice.

When it finished, I couldn't hide my shock. It wasn't half bad. "Lots of editing going on there." She had strung together the dozen takes into one decent video.

She reached over the table and flipped to another video. "This one is my favorite." She clicked play for me.

"Hi, my name is. Hi. Hi. Hillo." The blooper reel was downright horrific. I slowly raised my eyes to see the smile stretched across her face. She cackled in response.

"I'm going to kill you. You better not?—"

"Post it? Oh yeah, too late. The good one is doing fine. Your blooper reel has over two hundred shares. The comments are hilarious."

"You're dead." I threw myself back in my chair, crossing my arms as I imagined strangling her. "I'm going to kill you."

"Over two hundred people have rsvp'd."

"What?"

Amanda leaned back in her chair, resting her hands behind her head. I hated that her idea paid off. She'd rub my nose in it for days. Why were we friends?

"Seems they only needed a reason to click the invite. It's not a terrible start. I'm thinking we should do a whole series of videos. It'll be like those fail videos. Maybe all the times you trip over boxes?"

I was about to open my mouth when Dorothy came to the rescue. She set our plates down. The tongue-lashing would have to wait until I filled my belly. I stopped to admire the plate. I scrolled social media and always mocked the food porn. How long did they spend making it look like a work of art? Seeing it in person had me reconsidering my opinion.

Amanda wasted no time taking a bite of her toast. Dorothy didn't need to ask if she liked it. The muffled moans meant we'd be eating here again. She hadn't finished the first bite when she took another. The thumbs up was all the approval Dorothy needed.

She wandered off as I took my first bite. The egg had a runny center, and the bacon had been cooked to perfection. It was my turn to moan. I see why Mom liked the place. I'd accept a date from Gerald if he brought me here. Even Dorothy gave us weird looks as we moaned our way through the meal.

"You're both fools." She shook her head but couldn't hide the smile. "Should I let the chef know?"

"Yes," I said. Amanda and I swapped plates. If the toast was half as good as my sandwich, I'd take back all my hate toward avocados. "Give our compliments to the chef."

Amanda chomped down on a slice of bacon. "From now on, we're having convention meetings here. I won't complain about vendor applications if I get more bacon."

I eyed the toast, hesitant. Was I prepared to be a man who ordered avocado toast? I closed my eyes and took a bite. Creamy. Crunchy. Did I taste jalape?o? My eyes shot open, ready to declare myself a convert.

"Ilufit."

"That's what Dorothy says." I froze. That voice. Turning toward the kitchen, Simon walked out wearing a white chef's jacket. My almost-anonymous hookup had set up shop across the green from the comic shop? Oh, God. How did I play this?

"This is delicious," Amanda said. "Firefly needs more places like this. If you could help the guys at Frank's improve their pizza, it'd be appreciated. You can't be from around here."

He crossed his arms… those thick, fuzzy, wonderfully tattooed arms. I squirmed in my seat, trying to hide the rising problem in my jeans. He had the sleeves rolled up, highlighting his biceps. I forced myself to chew.

"I'm from just outside Boston."

"Do you pahk the cah in the Havahd yard?"

Amanda. I wanted to strangle her for a different reason. I chewed faster so I could jump into the conversation before she made us look like country bumpkins.

"Yah, can't get there from here." He shot back. "Can we discuss Moxie?"

Amanda laughed. "Don't tell my gran. She prefers it over coffee."

He reached forward, extending his hand. "Simon Peterson."

How were we going to play this? Do I act like we're strangers? Friends? Two grown men who have touched penises in the back of the mill?

She gave it a quick shake. "Amanda Kahl."

He turned to me. Strangers. Good, I knew how to handle this one. If I had known he worked across the park from me, maybe I wouldn't have been so quick to jump him. When he shook my hand, I knew that was a lie. I nearly threw myself at him despite our audience.

"Jason Cowan."

"Oh, Jason!" I recognized the sound of Amanda having a bright idea. "You know how we've been trying to get food vendors for the convention? What if Simon did it?"

"Uh…" This was getting awkward. "We still have to call?—"

"Why bother with them? We have a chef in the house." She turned to Simon. "Jason is putting together a comic book convention."

"Is that right? I've never been to one before." When he looked in my direction, it was my face turning red. It was one thing to talk about comics with strangers, but after our fifteen minutes of raunchy fun, my insecurities rose to the surface.

"The whole town is getting involved. He's modest about it." She shot me a judging glare. "It's going to be bigger than Flannel Fest. But we need some food vendors."

"I don't know," he said.

"Oh, no worries," I said. "We don't want to put you out."

Amanda had other plans. "It doesn't have to be fancy. But we can't have Frank's be the only vendor."

"He said no." I gave her a kick under the table.

Amanda didn't understand the word. "Small bite-sized?—"

"Canapés."

We both raised our eyebrows in confusion.

"Like hors d'oeuvres."

"Oh," we both said. She continued her nudging. "It'd be a great way to advertise Bistro on Maine." His face softened at the idea. "You're already planning the menu, aren't you?"

He laughed. God, the way his whole body shook when he laughed… I had to remind myself to blink. If Amanda wasn't knee-deep in her manipulations, she'd have caught my awkward staring.

He moved behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. I fought the urge to rub the side of my face against his arm. "Alright, consider me in." His grip tightened, and I melted in my seat. Amanda waggled her eyebrows in our direction. If she only knew.

"Thanks, Simon." My voice squeaked.

"First, I master your marketing, and now I secure catering. I'm on fire. Jason can give you the details. You two will get along great."

He patted my shoulder. "I'm sure we will."

The jingle of bells over the front door saved the day. My stoic appearance almost faltered. Dorothy might not have picked up on it, but Amanda would. If she found out about Simon, I'd spend the rest of the day answering questions I didn't have answers for.

"Welcome to Bistro on Maine," he said. "Dorothy will take your order. I need to get back to the kitchen."

Did I stare at his ass as he walked away? If I didn't, Amanda might ask why I avoided the handsome man. If I did, she'd make comments about the new hottie in town. I took my chances. An innocent glance at the back of his black pants. Not even his Crocs dampened the sexiness. When I got home, I'd be imagining that sexy bear climbing on top of me.

Amanda chuckled when she caught me. "Jason, don't get any ideas…"