Page 29 of Filthy Chef


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Everyone nods in a blasé “been there, done that” kind of way.

I turn back to Journey. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, shortcake.”

The nickname snatches her attention back to me.

Several staff members do catcalls and shout, “Shortcake!”

Journey is beet red and hisses at me. “Now look what you’ve done!”

I wrap her up in a hug and kiss the top of her head.

“Let’s get you home.”

She leans back, looking up into my eyes with a hurt expression. “I told you I would give it a week! I’m not ready to go back to Iowa.”

“I didn’t say home to Iowa…oh no, you poor thing, I meant your new home.”

“Oh my god. Tell me you didn’t buy me a house.”

“I didn’t buy you a house. You’re moving in with me because, based on that horrible motel you picked, I don’t trust you to find yourself an apartment.”

“I have enough saved to find a decent place,” she starts.

“Girl, if Jason Riggins offers to move you in, you do it,” Lola offers.

It’s decided then.

fourteen

Journey

“Hope you’re hungry.”

Jason tips the driver as I exit the car in front of a foliage-covered gate almost invisible from the street.

“Starving,” I answer.

He punches in a code as the car drives off down the street.

I don’t know what I’m expecting when the gates open up. Something imposing and ultra-contemporary? A vampire’s castle, maybe?

“What’s wrong?”

I’m staring down a landscaped cobblestone driveway that ends in a U-shaped curve in front of a three-story stone mansion that screams more arts and crafts than it does “lair.” The sandstone glows against the landscape fixtures. The windows put out the inviting, homey light of a house that bustles with activity.

“I didn’t peg you for a traditionalist.”

Jason grunts and rests a hand on my lower back. He punches in another code at the front door.

“What did you expect?”

“Steel girders. Or Gru’s house.”

Jason snorts as he pushes open the door, and suddenly, I’m out of smart remarks.

The entryway could be a museum: warm-colored marble floors lead off the main foyer in so many different directions, that I don’t know where to look first. The three-story cathedral ceilings draw the eye up to astonishing mahogany wood beams with expert details.

Behind me, Jason kicks off his shoes and arms the security code.

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