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It wasn’t until around four in the morning that we finally settled down to finish eating his meticulously prepared filet mignon, accompanied by truffle mashed potatoes and roasted artichoke hearts lightly drizzled with lemon and olive oil. By then, we had migrated to the small sofa in Steve’s office. As I sat in Randy’s lap, we reminisced about all the times we had clashed over trivial matters, laughing over past disputes.
Being together in such a candid, intimate manner was incredibly fulfilling, yet we were aware that the clock was ticking and our time was limited. Pete had been given the night off to afford Randy and me this special opportunity, and we knew Kai would be arriving by 5 a.m. to start the day’s baking. Acknowledging the approaching dawn, we shared one final, fervent kiss, a perfect culmination of our night together. I offered him my best wishes for the cooking competition, and we said our final goodbyes. I left feeling a surge of optimism, which was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Driving home, it felt as though I could soar. In that moment, I entertained the possibility—no, I embraced the feeling—that I might truly be in love with Randy Thorn.
Later that day, Randy called from the airport just before his flight boarded. I missed it because I was deep in sleep, recovering from our intense night. I replayed his message back several times. He talked about our unforgettable night, mentioned he would miss me, and expressed a desire to see me again upon his return, promising to call soon. Despite my attempts to return his call, my efforts went straight to voicemail. But I’m still eagerly waiting for him to get in touch when he finds a moment.
He’s still heavy on my mind as I rush through the ritual of stowing away my things in the locker room and slipping into an apron. Once I’m ready to start my shift, I make my way into the kitchen, not sure of what to expect. And there, to my surprise, is Jeremy.
Chapter 11
The New Cook
Gina
“Hey,” I say tightly, unable to move a muscle.
Unsurprisingly, Jeremy is impeccably dressed. He’s wearing well-tailored dress pants paired with a crisp, gray button-down shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, adding a touch of effortless elegance. Given our last encounter on the docks and how I’ve gone silent on him by neither answering nor returning any of his calls, his presence catches me off guard. Despite this, he greets me with a pleasant, welcoming smile, a kindness that I feel utterly unworthy of.
“Hi, Gina. This is for you.” He hands me a binder. “You’re the only person Randy trusts with these.”
I’m rendered immobilized for a moment. Touching something that belongs to Randy almost feels like a much-wanted hug from him. Then I open the binder and see that it contains Randy’s celebrity chef entree recipes. As I thumb through the pages, I’m struck by the meticulous attention to detail each recipe showcases.
“I thought these offerings were being discontinued,” I comment.
Jeremy’s response is a telling silence, prompting me to glance up from reading Randy’s brown butter lamb ravioli recipe, my favorite. The grimace on Jeremy’s face speaks volumes.
“What is it?” I press, sensing there’s more to the story.
“We can’t afford to take the financial hit right now,” he finally admits.
My mind immediately jumps to the usual suspect. “Is it Steve again?”
He mashes his lips together, signaling he will neither confirm nor deny. He is definitely very loyal to Steve. Randy is the same way.
Jeremy breaks the silence. “Plus, we’ll have to let go of some kitchen staff if we don’t keep up with the lunch and dinner options. We don’t want anyone losing their job.”
“I agree,” I find myself saying, even though I suspect the real reason we’re continuing with Randy’s menu is more about Steve’s situation. Working here has always been a bit of a tightrope walk—balancing the fear that Steve’s personal issues might one day land us in a precarious situation, possibly under less savory management. Yet there’s also the liberating aspect of his hands-off approach, granting us considerable autonomy to excel and genuinely make this place shine. But it’s not like Steve gives us free reign of the place on purpose. He’s often too preoccupied with his own concerns to be involved in the café’s operations.
Jeremy raises his hands in a gesture of peace. “Also, I want you to know that we’re good.”
Feeling a wave of embarrassment crash over me, I lower my gaze. “Sorry about not calling you back. I meant to, but everything just seemed to happen so fast after that night.”
“It’s okay, Gina. Stop beating yourself up about it,” he says, his voice carrying a tone of understanding as he places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But it would’ve been nice if either of you had mentioned something about what was happening between you two. I get it, though. Randy’s not exactly the type to share those kinds of things with anyone.”
A question sits on the tip of my tongue. But do I really want to know the answer? Actually, I do! “What kind of things are you referring to?” I ask.
Jeremy’s response comes with a playful chuckle. “Let’s just say those things have something to do with why Randy warned me to keep my distance. And told me not to ask you on any more dates.”
My smile broadens uncontrollably, a rush of joy surging through me at this revelation. The thought that Randy cares enough to stake his claim, even in his absence, fills me with an undeniable reassurance that we are definitely in this together. This is fantastic news.
Jeremy analyzes my reaction. “Wow, I never stood a chance in hell, did I?”
Realizing my expression might have been a bit too telling, I quickly try to moderate my smile.
But Jeremy just laughs at my attempt. “All right, Gina, let’s see you pull this off,” he says, smoothly transitioning the conversation back to the task at hand.
Chapter 12
Too Busy To Tell
