“That bodes well for me then.”
I folded my arms. “You starting a business, MB?”
He grinned. “I am. I bought the old Nelson farmhouse on the lake.”
“Man. Hope you got a good deal.”
He laughed. “I did. I’ve been talking to Lucky about the build you guys have been doing. This place is freaking incredible.”
“Thanks. It’s been a bitch, but it came together.”
“That’s for sure. I’d like you to do my place. I’m calling it The Mason Jar.” He picked up one of the pink-hued glasses in the box. “I’ve been collecting them from all over on my travels. It’s kind of been my dream ever since I started culinary school.”
“I had no idea.”
He shrugged. “I’m tired of working for other people. My last head chef used my head for target practice one too many times.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, Colorado is kinda crazy.”
Chef. Huh. “So, you saved up for this place?”
“Yeah, I’ve been stashing money away, and I have a business plan in place with the local bank to renovate. The historic people in town were thrilled that I wanted to keep the integrity of the old place. It’s over a hundred years old.”
“That’s quite the undertaking. I’m not really—”
“Gideon, this place is phenomenal. You and your guys can totally make my place come together. If we can get a decent quote put together.”
I laughed. “Well, we can certainly discuss it. It’s going to be a long project. I don’t remember you being exactly handy.”
“Oh, hell no. I want to pay people to take care of that stuff. I’ll help with some demo if you let me.”
“Everyone wants to do demo.” I shook my head. “But you were pretty good with a bat, so maybe you can do a few swings with the sledgehammer.”
He flipped me off. I laughed. Mason Brooks had gone to college on a baseball scholarship. His parents hadn’t been exactly thrilled when he picked cooking over going pro.
“So, what are you going to do in the meantime?”
He shrugged. “Jackson over at the Grille has been bugging me to work there, but I’m not really looking to get back into another second-in-command situation. Especially when I’m focused on getting my own place moving.”
“How would you feel about working here?”
Mason’s eyes bulged. “Here? Doesn’t she h
ave a chef?”
“Macy’s been looking for a replacement. Her guy flaked on her and took a job in Brazil, I think.” I pulled out my phone and shot a text off to Macy. “At least maybe talk to her?” I grinned down at my cell. “She says if you move, she’ll hunt you down.”
Mason laughed. “Guess I’ve got an interview.” He tucked the glass jar back into the slot in the box. “Hell of a day.”
“Where is he? Who is he?” Macy’s voice carried before she reached the loading dock.
Spinelli was getting out of his truck, then changed his mind and shut the door. I didn’t really blame him. Another fucked-up order would send Macy into a rant that even I didn’t want to listen to. Instead, I’d just fix it and she’d be none the wiser.
Hopefully.
“Wait, Mason?” She climbed the steps to the platform. “What are you doing here?”