Heat Wave(48)

“Of course it was.”

“And you hired me then because you knew I was a good cook.”

“That’s right.”

“You never called any of my references…”

“You never supplied any references,” he says. “But I still called them all the same.”

My chest goes hollow. “You did?” Oh shit. “Who did you talk to?”

“Erik,” he says matter-of-factly. “He was your boss, wasn’t he?”

Yes. He was my boss. He was also my lover. The man I fell in love with. The man that broke my heart. The man that got me fired.

“Look, shit happens,” Logan says but I can’t even meet his eyes. He knows, he knows! “I’ve…fallen for the wrong people myself and I’ve done some crazy shit. I might be almost forty, Freckles, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t forgotten my life before.”

“And you still hired me,” I say in disbelief.

He laughs. “Are you kidding me? It made me want you even more.” I glance at him wide-eyed and he just grins at me. “I told you earlier you march to the beat of your own drum. You fucking tried to burn the whole kitchen down because he pissed you off. That’s crazy, and I’m sorry but I like it.”

I sigh loudly, burying my head in my hands. “That’s not exactly what happened,” I mutter. “The kitchen fire was all his.”

But here’s what did happen.

Erik was the head chef at Piccolo, and the guy I’d been secretly, or not-so secretly, in love with since the moment he was hired, which was half-way through my career there. He was everything I thought I’d ever want in a man. Older, successful, cocky, handsome. A lot like Logan, which I try not to think about. But while Logan, for all his faults, has this sincerity underneath his gruff exterior, Erik was all show. He never had a heart, he never loved. He never cared about anything except himself.

And getting pussy. I knew he was a player but it didn’t stop me from thinking I could be the one that changed all that in him. Like any romance novel fantasy, I saw Erik and thought that once he got to know me, once he fell in love with me, that he would realize he’s finally found what he’s looking for.

I changed for him. The minute we started seeing each other I did everything I could to keep him. I did everything in the bedroom. I dressed the way he liked. I did everything I could to be the best. I guess in some way I was trying to be Juliet to someone who didn’t even know who Juliet was.

It worked for a short amount of time. I didn’t know that though. I thought it worked for years. We kept our relationship pretty much secret (at least I thought we did) and like a fool I thought I was the only one in his eyes.

I wasn’t.

He’d been cheating on me, and when I finally found out about the girls (yes, plural), he acted like it was no big deal. Just as easily as we’d started, he tossed me to the curb. To make matters worse, he told the staff what had been going on between us, and then he started up with one of the new waitresses, rubbing it in my face whenever he could. I even caught her giving him a blow-job in the deep freezer and before I shut the door he’d said, “Better luck next time.”

Whatever respect I had tried to earn at Piccolo was gone in an instant. All those years of service, of starting from a line cook and making my way up to chef di partie was gone. I was the laughing stock. Everyone pitied me. I was the fool who’d been screwed over by Erik, I was the one who thought she could sleep to the top. That wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop people from twisting things around.

So I did whatever anyone else would do in my position.

I printed out a not so flattering picture of his dick and slipped it into everyone’s menu with the headline “The Chef’s Special—perfect if you lack self-respect. Order now and get a free side of garlic bread.”

I thought it was hilarious—mainly because I’d absolutely lost my mind at that moment. And most of the staff had to agree.

But Erik was the boss. Obviously I was fired on the spot. Later that night he burned every one of those pics on the stove, causing a small fire in the kitchen, which he would later blame on me. I never lit shit on fire. The minute I handed out those dick pics, I was done. But he has to say he fired me for something, so that’s what it is. He’d never admit that pictures of his flaccid penis were handed out along with the night’s dishes.

So that’s what happened. That’s why even though I spent most of my career at Piccolo, I can never use them on my resume. That’s why working for Logan and Moonwater Inn is my chance to rebuild myself again.

“You know what?” I say to Logan. “I don’t regret a fucking thing. If you fuck me over, I will fuck you over in return.”