Bossing the Virgin(7)
Maybe I should dismiss her before the idea takes hold and I act on it. But I don’t have a good reason for it, because her food is amazing. She’s managed to elevate basics, in a style all her own. Even with a limited pantry, she’s managed to make the food taste like it came from a Michelin star restaurant. This is good. This is hopeful. With Mikayla at the helm, we just might be able to pull this off. Red Canyon Steakhouse might just make it.
As long as I can keep it in pants, I think. It’s the only thing that sours my good mood.
Mikayla
The next two weeks pass by in a blur for me. Sometimes I still can’t believe that I have this job. It’s been a dream for quite a long time, and to have it actually happen, when it was such a long shot really has improved my confidence. The subtle jabs about my skill from Jake are slowly being replaced as I start settling into my new role at Red Canyon Steakhouse. After I’d proved myself to Logan, he officially offered me the position. My pay was ridiculously huge, enough that I’d definitely be able to afford that apartment he referred to me, but more than that, I finally felt like things were turning around.
At first I thought that I wouldn’t see that much of Logan, but in fact, the complete opposite happened. He showed up almost every day, usually around lunch time. I was making food often, experimenting with recipes and discussing with various people about quality of ingredients and scalability, and I guess Logan didn’t want the food to go to waste. I didn’t mind at all of course. That man is seriously easy on the eyes, and as long as I was talking about food, I was too excited to get embarrassed. It was my comfort zone, where I didn’t stumble over my words or feel stupid in front of a guy.
And believe me, Logan could make me stumble. Every time I look up into those aqua blue eyes, that powerful body, the easy way he carries himself and commands the attention of everyone around him. It’s like getting close to the sun. I can feel my body straighten, every nerve acutely aware of where he is in the room, a thrill of desire curl around my belly. I can’t help it. I have no illusions though; a man like Logan probably has a girlfriend, someone equally beautiful and successful as he is, who could easily move around in his social circle. Best not to go down that road at all.
“So this is the last dish,” I say as I put down a plate of grilled salmon tacos in front of Logan.
“Wow!” he says, “This is an amazing plate of color you have. It looks and smells fantastic.”
“It tastes fantastic too, I promise,” I say.
I watch as he takes a bite and closes his eyes momentarily.
“It is good,” he says, once he’s swallowed. “This stuff is fantastic. And you think we’ll be able to have them in every restaurant?”
“Oh for sure. It cooks really fast, and the avocado salsa can be incorporated into salads and burgers easily. The corn makes a great side too, giving the customer more options for their entrees.”
“I love it,” Logan says, taking another bite. “You’re catching on fast.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m really enjoying the challenge.”
I sit down across from him and dig in to my taco too. This is the last dish that I’ve made for the menu relaunch and I wonder what will happen now. Will Logan disappear back to his office? I find myself thinking of different ways that could bring him back. I’m really enjoying our lunches together.
“So would you say this is true to your cooking style?” Logan asks once he’s finished devouring one of the tacos on the plate. “I notice you’ve got a medley of cuisines in your food.”
“Not exactly,” I say with a smile. “You wanted Red Canyon Steakhouse to be representative of the area right? And even though I know Mexican food really dominates in California, there’s also the idea of fresh and local, Asian foods, all of that. I don’t think you can say American food is just burgers and apple pie anymore. We have so many different peoples and cultures all coming together that a little crossing over is natural, and I think that extends to food too.”
I pause for a moment to think.
“I think if I could pick one cuisine to cook forever, it would probably be closer to Italian food. I’d love to be able to spend a long vacation in Europe one day, learning how to cook regional foods in Italy. Poking around in a local’s kitchen, learning what their grandmothers passed down. Making pasta by hand. That sort of a thing. Not right now of course,” I say quickly, remembering that I’m talking to my boss, not a friend. “But maybe in a few years when things have settled down.”