Don't Touch

“It's perfect. The seasoning is spot on, the flavors are bold, the pancetta is crisp, and the rice is cooked beautifully. Very good, Arisa. I had my doubts when you told me what you made, but you hit it right.”

“Thanks,” I say, blushing slightly as his eyes land on mine.

“But which one is better? Which one of us gets to be your sous chef for the Flavor magazine guy?” Cheryl asks. She's annoyed and she isn't even trying to hide it at all. “Just say it already. Tell her it's me so we can move on, and finish getting ready to open.”

“Arisa,” Monroe says, tapping the edge of the bowl with the spoon. “This really is good, I'm impressed. And Cheryl, your salad, well, it's not hitting the mark. Arisa, you're my chef.”

“What?” Cheryl balks, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“I'm sorry, Cheryl, but Arisa wins. I know you've been here longer, but that doesn't give you an automatic edge. It's about taste, and hers is spot on.”

“Oh wow, thank you,” I say. My smile is huge, and my heart is hammering inside my chest. “I won't let you down.”

“I know you won't.” He gives me a light smile. “Okay ladies, back to it, let's finish getting ready,” he says, turning and walking away.

Cheryl looks livid. Her eyes are slits, and her entire face is red as a chili pepper. Her lips thin into a tight frown as she growls under her breath and tosses the rest of her salad into the trash.

I can't wipe the smile from my face. My entire goal is to become the best. The best employee. The best cook. The best chef. I want to own a restaurant one day. A place that people will talk about, with a waiting list so long you need to call months ahead.

This opportunity is going to give me that. A renowned food critic will know my name and taste my cooking.

Today just made up for every bad thing that happened yesterday.

And I'm not going to let Cheryl ruin my day because she lost.

5

Arisa

“Great service guys,” Monroe says. “Just finish cleaning up your stations and then you can go home for the night.”

“Thanks,” Cheryl says. She sounds a little less pissed than earlier. I think she's finally letting go of the cooking competition this morning and knows Monroe doesn't mean to hurt her feelings. This is his business, and his reputation. That's what's important at the end of the day.

I scrub down the counter and stove, then help put away the condiments. Cheryl's still staying as far away from me as she can. If I'm coming one way, she goes the opposite. It feels petty, but in all honesty, it's probably best for both of us.

“I'm done, Monroe. I'll see you in the morning,” Cheryl says as she grabs her bag and throws it over her shoulder.

“See you tomorrow,” he answers blindly, keeping his head down as he writes on a small white board.

She doesn't say goodbye to me. I get an angry glare and then she's gone.

“How you doing over there?” he asks me.

“Almost done. I'm just finishing up this counter.”

“You know,” he says, capping his marker and standing up straight. He turns to face me and leans back. “I was really impressed with your dish this morning. I didn't expect it.”

“I'm full of surprises.” I look up at him and wink. “But really, thank you for giving me this opportunity. It means a lot.”

He licks his lips slowly as he takes long sweeping steps across the kitchen. “I like surprises almost as much as I like cooking.”

His toes hit mine. I have to crane my neck back as I look up at him. Monroe lifts his hand to my face and brushes loose pieces of hair away from my face. He smiles, his lids lowering to half-mast.

“You know what else I really like?” he asks.

“What?” I choke out.

All my nerves are going wild. Goosebumps bristle my skin as the tips of his fingers tickle across my face.

“Last night. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I haven't been able to get you off my mind.” His fingers work their way into my hair, softly pulling against the strands as he massages my scalp.

“Me too.” I can barely get the words out as his fingers become more intense. They move deeper into my hair, caressing harder, and tugging lightly. “I—”

He crushes his lips against mine, stealing my voice. His tongue spears through my lips, tangling around mine. I moan, unable to contain the desire that's been building inside me all day. I've wanted this so bad. To feel his lips on mine again. To taste his tongue and be in his arms, it's all I've been thinking about.

Monroe frees his hand from my hair. His hands slip down my sides and around to my ass. With such strength, he easily lifts me off my feet and spins me around to sit me on the counter.