Marla did a great job taking care of her, but she was no substitute for a real mother. Unfortunately, I wasn’t about to look for a replacement. The days of me loving a woman and hoping that I was enough for her to love me back were long gone. Besides, Em needed stability, and as far as I was concerned, I was the only one capable of giving it to her.
I would figure out a way to make things work with just the two of us. I had to.
“Just you and me, kiddo,” I whispered. “You and me against the world.”
CHAPTER TWO - AMBER FOSTER
I pulled into the staff parking lot behind the restaurant for my first day of work. The place looked deserted; only one other car sat in the lot. I was about a half hour early, but I didn’t expect to be the only one there.
Oh well, better to be early and wait than show up late. I only had one chance to make a first impression and I didn’t want to screw it up. Besides, I’d waited as long as I could before leaving my apartment.
First day jitters had made sleeping impossible. I had tossed and turned most of the night. A little bit before dawn, I’d finally given up and gotten out of bed, not sure if I’d slept at all. After a shower and a few cups of strong coffee, I was as ready as I was going to be.
I double checked my appearance in the rear-view mirror. Dark crescents hung beneath my eyes. I scrounged through my purse for some concealer. Kitchen work was hot and sweaty, so I hadn’t bothered with too much makeup. Still, I couldn’t show up looking like an extra from The Walking Dead.
I smeared the flesh-colored goo under my eyes. Much better. I wasn’t going to impress my new boss with my looks, but it couldn’t hurt to look decent.
Chef Harrison had a reputation in the industry. Some people praised him as a perfectionist, the kind of chef who demanded every detail be flawless. Some denounced him as a dictator in the kitchen, pushing his staff beyond the breaking point. Others just plain called him an asshole.
While opinions differed, the one thing everyone agreed upon was that his restaurant, Emery, produced amazing food. No matter how difficult working there might be, the experience would be invaluable. I could learn a lot from Harrison, if I could endure his famous temper.
The back door to the restaurant burst open, so hard it slammed against the building’s exterior. The sound of it made me jump, leaving me to feel a little foolish. I was just glad no one else had seen my reaction.
An incredibly handsome guy with thick shoulders and a well-trimmed beard emerged from the doorway with trash bags gripped in both fists.
The garbage must have been heavy because I could see his muscles flexing beneath his thin white t-shirt. A dark tattoo decorated his left arm and I could almost make out the image of wings across the top of his chest.
He threw the bags easily into the dumpster, and they landed with a sound like thunder.
He must have been the owner of the other car in the lot. I guessed the busboy must show up early to get things cleaned up before the chefs arrived.
He pulled his arms behind him like he was stretching his back, and i had the pleasant effect of making his shirt cling to him like a second skin. His broad, masculine chest lit a pleasant warmth inside me.
Fuck. How long had it been since I’d been close to a well-built guy? Shit, any guy for that matter? I sure as hell hadn’t ever been with a guy that hot, or ripped. Only in my dreams.
My eyes followed the hard lines of his torso down to where the hem of his shirt had risen above his stomach. His jeans hung low on his hips, exposing the v-shaped muscles of his abdomen.
My mouth watered at the sight of him and I couldn’t help but wonder how he looked with the jeans thrown in the corner and his undies pooled on the floor beneath him.
Get ahold of yourself Amber.
The restaurant couldn’t be all that bad if I got to work with a guy like that. When things got tough, I’d just offer to rinse as he washed. I giggled to myself at my train of thought. Clearly, I needed a boyfriend if the mere sight of a good-looking guy got me all hot and bothered.
The man turned his face in my direction. “Hey!” he called out.
Oh, God.
I hoped he hadn’t noticed me eye-banging him from my car like some pervert stalker.
He marched toward me, his brow furrowed in anger. As he got closer, my stomach dropped a thousand feet. This wasn’t a busboy.
It was Chef Harrison.
I recognized him from pictures I’d seen online, but he’d always been dressed in his crisp white chef’s coat. I’d never seen him like this, and I never imagined he was hiding such gorgeous secrets beneath his professional attire. I knew he was a handsome man, but he hid his deliciously ripped body so damn well. The world would never know.
I hopped out of my car to greet him, but he shouted at me before I could speak.
“Who the hell are you?”