Dirty Chef

“Oh God, tempura batter? Pretty please?”

“Obviously.” His mind was racing. I could tell by how his gaze flickered and how he stopped paying attention to our surroundings. Did he even notice how he slowed down? “Horseradish has a sharper sting without being too hot. I could make a good sauce with that. So…crispy bacon…hot sauce, tempura batter, then into the fryer.”

I could see the dish before me. I’d studied design in college and minored in marketing, though everything I’d learned had been adjusted to fit our concept for the restaurant, and design mattered. Presentation was the book cover that sold the content, and for this, I wanted three little bowls of dipping sauces.

Adam and I picked up the pace as I explained my vision; they could be served like chips, and we already had the pocket plates from our fondue menu last year. The big pocket was for the fried bacon, of course.

“I like it,” Adam approved. “You know I gotta go against the grain and not make one of the dipping sauces blue cheese, right?”

I laughed. “But people love blue cheese with their hot sauce.”

“And it’s unoriginal as fuck,” he replied frankly.

I could give him that. The twin walking next to me was all about originality.

His passion was making people fall for flavors and combinations they’d never considered before.

Such as— “I know, I know, I know!” I got a little too excited, although Adam only grinned. “The banana curry dip you made for New Year’s that time.”

“Oh…” He furrowed his brow in concentration and pinched his lips. “Hmm. I’d have to make adjustments. I could add garlic—no. Too dominant. It’ll take over. I’ll think about it, but it can work. Solid idea. It should have a kick but still be smooth.”

“And sweet.”

“And sweet.” He nodded. “Thoughts on my key lime aioli?”

“Oh, that’ll be perfect. And maybe a whip of some sort.”

He stopped abruptly and grabbed ahold of my arm. I glanced up at him.

“With apple and maple,” he said.

Holy Christ, of course. “They’re gonna freaking love that. You’re a genius!”

He chuckled. “Remember that next time you pick up my dirty socks.”

“Bless. I’m not doing that anymore.” I patted his arm and walked ahead, eager for more inspiration.

Three

Alessia Rossi

“Well, after Isla pointed it out to me, it’s obvious to the whole goddamn world. It’s time you talk to her.”

I looked over my shoulder to see Jack coming down the spiral staircase of his home with his phone to his ear. I was on the couch in their living room with Isla.

“Jack!” Isla exclaimed.

My gaze was instantly on her, fear ricocheting through me. “Are you okay?”

She wouldn’t look away from Jack, so I frowned over at him.

He’d stopped short on the last step. “Alessia. I didn’t know you were here.”

I smiled—surprise, Jack—and waved. To his credit, I’d spent hours here with Isla before, without Jack ever knowing. He worked as a freelance editor, a very successful one at that, and he could be holed up in his office on the third floor for ages.

“I’ll call you back,” he muttered to whoever he was on the phone with and ended the call. “What a pleasant surprise, hon. What brings you by?”

Well, it wasn’t a movie marathon. I liked to tease him about the fact that they didn’t have a TV in their living room. Only floor-to-ceiling shelves of books and a fireplace. It was certainly beautiful, but a movie every now and then was a must.

“She made me cookies,” Isla said. “I love you, but you can’t have any. Right now, they’re preventing me from crying for no reason at all.”

I giggled.

Jack smiled ruefully and walked over to us. With the couch at the center of the room, he came to a stop behind us and bent down to kiss the top of Isla’s head. “I’ll suffer in silence, I suppose. As long as you’re comfortable.”

“Excellent answer,” Isla whispered with a cheeky smile.

They were so adorable together. Isla was significantly younger than Jack, and when I met her the first time, they’d only just started dating. But even then, I could see the impact she had on him. She’d brought him back to life. Jack was no longer the frowning, broody Grady brother.

“I thought I’d get us some lunch,” Jack said. “What are you two in the mood for?”

Isla sighed heavily. She was all belly at this point. It’d been a week since the false alarm, and we were all waiting. “What I want is irrelevant, because some dipshit decided sushi isn’t good when you’re pregnant.”

I offered a look of sympathy, then glanced up at Jack. “I had lunch before I came here, so don’t worry about me.”

“Got it.” He nodded and slid his gaze back to Isla. “What about the chicken you loved last week? Are we still on that kick?”

Isla made a face of disgust.