Feeling the Heat Read online

  “Only the best for August. The kid’s done good.” Ryker’s voice turned gruff as he headed back to the bar.

  Ewin raised his beer in toast. “The kid’s done good,” he echoed, but his gaze never left mine, and his soft, molten voice wrapped itself around me.

  I chinked my glass against his as heat flooded my cheeks. I didn’t have a single word in my head that made sense. Taking a deep breath and needing a distraction, I glanced at the bar, needing Ryker to come back with our burgers.

  I took another long slow breath to compose my thoughts, and the unfamiliar warm honey-and-spice smell of Ewin flooded my senses. An alpha. I glanced at him, trying to ignore the twitch in my pants and uptick of my pulse.

  “If these burgers take much longer, dude, I’m sending you in there to do the cooking.” Griff lifted an eyebrow and gestured toward the kitchen door.

  I stared at the square glass window in the wood, glimpsing the small kitchen beyond, willing the door to swing open and sweep the aroma of cooking toward the table. “Not even one day off before I start work, then?”

  Griff raised his hands in front of him. “Hey, you’re the guy with the empty stomach.”

  “Shoulda taken me somewhere with faster service, then.” This was right, familiar. Shootin’ shit with Griff, I could almost imagine I didn’t have Ewin Storm sitting to my right, one eyebrow raised as he watched our exchange.

  Almost. But all I could smell was his spice and honey scent. It lodged in my chest and threatened to unravel my thoughts.

  “You seem kind of different outside the kitchen,” he murmured.

  I half turned to him, careful not to lean in. I might not be able to prevent myself from falling against him if I got any closer. Those eyes that glittered with promise, the soft-looking shirt…that warm voice lulling me, making me feel safe and protected. He was very hard to resist.

  “It’s different here. I’m with friends.”

  “Yeah, but he’s still hungry as fuck. We’re getting old waiting for this food,” Griff chipped in and laughed.

  “Hey…hey… You talking about my service?” Ryker arrived at the table, a tray laden with burgers and fries in his arms.

  “Maybe…maybe not.” Griff gave me a pointed look, then flicked a glance at Ewin.

  I pressed my lips together and gave a slight shake of my head.

  “I popped a burger on there for you, too.” Ryker nodded at Ewin. “Though I appreciate it’s not the fine and fancy dining you’re used to.”

  Ewin waved his statement away. “Looks like exactly what I need.”

  I picked up my burger, squashing the top of the bun to get it into my mouth, and the taste of beef, tomato, lettuce, pickle, and cheese exploded across my tongue.

  “Why aren’t you out celebrating with your family?” Ewin scooped up some ketchup on a long fry then paused as he looked at me.

  “Um…” I chewed faster, trying to empty my mouth so I could speak, but then his tongue slipped out of his mouth to catch a drip of ketchup and I inhaled sharply.

  Brody pounded my back as I reached for my beer.

  “Sorry,” I croaked, my eyes watering. “Wrong tube.”

  “Is there any such thing?” Brody leaned his chin on his fist, his eyes wide and innocent. “Can’t say I’ve ever hit the wrong tube. You, Griff?”

  “Family?” Ewin prompted, although his eyes twinkled as he watched my friends.

  “Oh.” I made a decision and tensed my jaw. “I don’t really have any.”

  “Hey, now.”

  At Ryker’s voice, I spun to face the bar.

  “You know that isn’t really fair, Aug.” He leaned his elbows on the wood, and I caught Noah eyeing our conversation, too.

  Irritation flashed through me, and I narrowed my eyes. “And what would you know about Dawson being fair, Ry?”

  Ryker smoothed a cloth over the surface of his bar. “I’m just sayin’. Dawson would have been there today if he could. You know that.”

  I choked out a laugh and fought to keep my voice muted. “That’s bullshit. And you know it.”

  Griff and Brody busied themselves eating their burgers, but they watched the exchange between Ryker and me. Luckily, the jukebox still quietly playing to itself in the corner drowned out most of my outburst for the other three tables of diners scattered across the space.

  Ryker’s mouth pulled down at the corners and he focused harder on whatever smudge he’d just found. He was the best friend and supporter Dawson could have asked for—still so loyal to him and willing to believe the best after all these years. Too many years.

  “It’s okay, Ryker, we both know he’s been a shitty brother. We don’t need to pretend otherwise today more than any other.” I turned back to my burger, but my stomach flipped. I pushed it away. “Sorry, guys. I think that’s me done for now. I’m suddenly not in the mood anymore.”

  My heart hurt to see Ryker so disappointed in Dawson. “Thanks, Ry.” I raised my voice to call across the bar again. “I’ll see you real soon.”

  Ryker glanced up, pain still visible behind his smile. “Don’t be a stranger, kid.”

  Griff shoved a mouthful of burger into his mouth and his chair squealed across the floorboards as he stood. “C’mon, Bro.” He nudged Brody, who stared mournfully at his fries.

  “I’ll make you some at my place,” I promised him, but he still grabbed a handful to go.

  I shrugged my jacket on and straightened the collar. “See you at training,” I said to Ewin, but I was too embarrassed to look at him as I bent to grab my phone from the table, and I certainly wanted to be halfway across the room before he attempted a reply. I just needed to be alone with my embarrassment at flipping out like some little kid. A kid was the last way I wanted Ewin to see me.

  As I touched my phone, it buzzed with an alert from the town gossip website. I’d almost forgotten that thing existed—we’d had no gossip for weeks, not that I actually missed it. Sometimes it seemed a little too close to the truth, and it often bordered on cruel and shit-stirring. I glanced at Brody and Griff to ensure we were all ready, but they were tapping at their own phones, unlocking them to view the update, and I sighed before glancing at my screen.

  Looks like our hometown celeb is back and stirring up heat in the streets. Be careful, little omegas. The pheromones are strong with this one.

  I slid my phone into my back pocket, but I couldn’t resist a final glance at Ewin as I did, and anticipation coiled in my stomach. Oh, yes. Pheromones were indeed strong.

  4

  Ewin

  June 2nd

  I paused by the front steps to The Cedar House. The rocking chairs on the veranda stood empty, but chatter floated out through the open windows. It all sounded so romantic, The Cedar House in Cedar Falls. Like something out of a fairy tale, the house where anyone would have been lucky to grow up, a house filled with the love and laughter glorified on TV movies.

  Instead, it was the nursing home where I’d installed my mother when she developed Alzheimer’s. It was the place I tucked her away when I didn’t have the time or knowledge to care for her. This house held both my mother and my shit-tons of son guilt. With the scale of the emotional baggage I’d left here, it was a miracle the house hadn’t ruptured the rest of its contents all over the beautiful woodland clearing where it stood.

  I sucked in a deep breath, tucked my shirt back into the waistband of my pants and took the steps in two leaps. I needed to get back to the restaurant, but Mom came first. My weekly visits grew more dutiful as she slipped deeper into the grip of her own mind, but I needed to know I’d always done the best by her.

  The soft, chemical scent of jasmine air freshener greeted me as I walked through the front door, quickly matched by the familiar base-note of stale piss. I wrinkled my nose, parted my lips for some mouth-breathing, and tried to smile at the nurse perched at the nurse’s station.

  “She’s having a great day!”

  I couldn’t tell from the nurse’s coo if the sen
timent was genuine or not. Maybe all of her patients had great days as far as she was concerned. All things were relative, right?

  “Thanks, Sarah.”

  “Sure thing.” She returned her focus to her computer, her fingers clacking unevenly over the keys. “Oh, they’re in the dayroom.” She waved distractedly in the direction I’d been headed.

  My steps slowed as I approached the large room filled with all the people who’d once had lives of their own, doing things that fulfilled them. Although my waking moments were filled with the sounds, sights, and smells of my kitchens, my sleeping ones were filled with nightmares of being trapped in my own body while strangers decided my every timetabled move.

  And guilt. Alllllll the guilt.

  I scanned the room, skipping over the residents I knew, and a couple I hadn’t met before. Mom sat in a chair in a corner, pulling back the scarf she’d spent the last three weeks knitting.

  “Hey, Mom. Is everything okay?” I eased into the high-backed armchair across from her, and the waterproof plastic squeaked a little, protesting my movement.

  She glanced up at smiled at me. “Oh, this thing was full of dropped stitches. I can do better.”

  I looked at the ratty yarn as she wound it into a ball. She’d been knitting and reknitting the same scarf for months. “I can buy you new yarn. I’ll bring it next time I see you.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary, dear.” She patted my knee. “But aren’t you a sweetheart?” She hadn’t called me by my name in weeks. It might have been one more thing that had slipped away.

  “Hey…” She looked up at me, pausing her winding. “Can I knit you a scarf?” She glanced at the yarn. “I think these colors would really suit you.”

  I nodded. “That would be great, Mom.”

  A nurse bustled into the room and handed a guy in the corner a tiny cup of little round pills.

  “What did you eat for breakfast this morning, Mom?”

  She stopped again and squinted as she looked out of the window. “Toast, maybe?” But it was a question. “Or some cereal.”

  “You had sausage links and eggs this morning, Alice,” the nurse supplied. “It’s your favorite, remember?”

  “I like them.” Mom nodded. “Did I used to have chickens?” She looked at me.

  “You did,” I confirmed. “When we lived on the outskirts of town, we kept chickens.”

  She smiled. “Cluck, cluck, cluck,” she murmured.

  “The restaurant’s coming on well. The new staff start today. I don’t have long to get them up to speed.” She didn’t often remember the things I told her, but I usually filled her in on the details from my life, the kind of things she used to ask me about…before.

  “Did you eat at a restaurant?” A crease appeared at her brow and her yarn winding grew more agitated. “Do you like restaurants?” She looked about. “Am I in a restaurant? Where’s my food?”

  I placed my hand over hers, stilling her movements. “I don’t know, Mom. I’ll go check.”

  She nodded and relaxed back into winding her yarn. I watched for a moment as the pulling and wrapping settled into a steady rhythm, then I rose and walked back to the door.

  I glanced at Mom one last time before I left, her face lit by the sunlight filtering in through the window by her side. She almost looked young again, and I balled my fists as resentment at the disease stealing my mother away piece by piece surged through me.

  It also served as the daily reminder of my own mortality, the lack of time I had left. Her disease made me feel old. But it also gave me the gift of knowing what I wanted, and the balls to make my own opportunities. I couldn’t afford to waste any of my time in case I woke up one day and couldn’t remember my way to the bathroom.

  I drove back into town in silence. I almost didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to go to the restaurant or deal with new employees. I didn’t want to drive my car or go back to my apartment. I just wanted my mom back. My chest tightened, and I pulled off the road to lay my head against my steering wheel, taking regular inhales to a count of four until I could think again.

  Of course I was going into work. The restaurant and my mom were intertwined—it wouldn’t have been happening without her. In a way, it was her legacy, her gift to Cedar Falls. I just had to make it happen. She’d believed in me my whole career. She worked so hard to put me through the institute, then when I was selected to finish my training in Paris, I thought she might take out a full-page ad in the national news. I’d never seen anyone so proud.

  When I moved her out of the house where she raised me, I’d found a scrapbook full of articles of every interview I’d done, every recipe I’d had printed in news releases or magazines. To lose all of that love and support left a hole in my chest that nothing would ever fill.

  I sighed as I shoved my car into drive. I’d visit Mom again next week and take her some new yarn. Maybe even some pictures of the restaurant and my new team. An image of August flashed through my mind. Mom would approve of him. And she would have been jealous of those thick, dark eyelashes of his.

  I smiled, but it was bittersweet. It was hard to have experiences I couldn’t share with her.

  I arrived back to a kitchen in full swing as my new chefs bustled around learning their stations, and a flurry of activity swirled around me as I pushed through the double doors to the restaurant. My new staff didn’t know each other properly yet, but in time they’d become a cohesive team, almost reading each other’s minds as they served up a fine dining experience to the population of Cedar Falls and the surrounding area. That was the aim, anyway, when the final touches were finally put on the dining room and we opened to the public in a few months’ time, after the initial training period.

  Until then, I took in the chaos of the double doors swinging back and forth, as waitstaff passed back and forth between the kitchen and the restaurant to set up their own stations and hidden serving areas, and new chefs explored cupboards and drawers.

  As I observed them, I caught sight of a familiar figure, standing by one of the new six-burner ranges.

  “And these...these…” August gestured to the ranges as he spoke to some of the other trainees, enthusiasm radiating from him. “They’re top of the line. Literally top dollar. If we can’t turn out perfect dishes in this kitchen, no way can we blame the equipment.”

  I smiled. I’d lain awake nights worrying I’d made a mistake in sourcing most of my new staff straight from institutes and colleges, but as I watched August wax lyrical about commercial kitchen necessities, my anxiety melted away.

  He exuded confidence in this space, as if he’d been born wearing chef’s whites, with tomato paste and vegetable stock running through his veins. My initial judgments about him were correct—his mastery of food and cooking was more than mere science. He had an innate understanding of kitchens and cooking. My restaurant couldn’t be in better hands.

  For the first time all day, the tightness in my chest eased, and I took a deep breath, ready to address my new staff.

  And, for fuck’s sake, I almost clapped my hands to attract their attention. I’d clearly spent too much time in the company of Gaby Roberts. Instead, I settled for just raising my voice.

  “Thank you all for being so punctual on your first day.” I tried to meet everyone’s eyes as I spoke, but my gaze lingered on August long enough to watch his cheeks pink. I forced myself to look elsewhere and met a calculating glint in Jared’s eyes, instead.

  My throat dried and I gestured to Valerie, my assistant. She placed a sheaf of paperwork on the nearest stainless steel countertop, and the blot on the clean lines in the kitchen hurt my heart just a little.

  “I’m not planning anything too taxing today. In fact, I’m going to ease you in.” I caught August’s gaze again before looking quickly away. Something about him distracted me beyond reason. “Valerie has brought you all some menus to look through. These are our opening night menus.”

  I paused for a moment to allow the excited chatter
to pass and sneaked another glance at August. He studied the menu, a slight smile curving his full lips.

  “You’ll notice there’s a lot of work there. Our special is a full five courses, and I’ve created several new signature dishes for our launch. We want everyone to be talking about STK Storm in Cedar Falls. The more buzz, the better.” I watched them a little longer as they all looked at the paperwork in their hands then I laughed. “And this is the first and last time I want our kitchen to be this quiet. When you’re in here, you’re working. Things will be busy, but a kitchen staff is a team.”

  As I spoke, I thrust my arms into my black jacket. Everyone else wore traditional whites, but I liked to be identifiable. “Are there any questions before we get started?”

  No one spoke, so I continued. “Today will be a fast-paced day of running through the basics of the dishes so you can all make and taste them. If you don’t know how your finished dish is supposed to taste, how can you cook it for paying customers?” I’d sourced my new staff from local culinary institutes and cooking schools, but I couldn’t afford to take chances on gaps in their knowledge, even if that meant telling them things they might already know—like explaining the importance of tasting.

  A quick image of offering a spoonful of food to August’s parted lips flashed through my mind, and I turned away from the watching group of chefs on the pretense of lighting the gas burners before I lost control of myself. Shame washed away the fight between my alpha need to take and my rational mind telling me to step away from August. He was too young, but I wanted him anyway.

  When I returned to face them, I smiled. “Let me begin by introducing you to the people who will really be in charge today. I’ve flown in some of my most experienced chefs to provide mentorship and ensure your training is flawless and completely in my preferred methods and techniques. Each of these chefs has trained exclusively at my side, and you won’t find finer examples of culinary genius anywhere.” I paused and sought August again. “Not even in Paris,” I added, just for his ears.