“You’re funny,” he says and reaches for a crate of apples, plopping it on my countertop. “Where do we start?”
“I’m going to fill some big bowls with cold water so we can start peeling them without them going brown.” After the bowls are full I set them on my massive island, pull out two cutting boards, and offer him a knife.
“I have my knives in my car,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
There are perks to being with a chef. He knows the importance of keeping his own knives nearby.
No one else would get it.
He returns with what looks like a suitcase that should either have a million dollars in small, unmarked bills, or a bomb in it.
Instead, he opens it and his knives are set in black foam. They gleam in the light from my kitchen.
“Those are gorgeous.”
“They’re good knives. You have good ones, too.”
We each get to work peeling and slicing apples; and when one bowl is full, I set it aside.
“If you don’t mind, you can keep peeling and I’ll start on the crusts.”
He just nods and keeps working on the apples.
“Whose recipe do you use for this?”
“My mother’s. I’ve helped her bake pies since I was a little girl.”
“Is apple pie popular in Italy?”
I smile and shake my head. “When she and Daddy moved here, it was important to her that she fit in. She wanted to cook American meals. She wanted to make friends with her neighbors, and she definitely didn’t want to be an outsider.
“So, she gathered recipes from her neighbors and would even go spend time in their kitchens, watching them. Apple pies are her favorite.”
“Your parents are—”
“Old fashioned? A little odd? Nosy as fuck? Yeah, they’re all those things. And they are wonderful parents. Landon and I were always loved and never went without much. My dad has been a contractor for as long as I can remember. He worked his ass off so Mom could stay home with us, and they made a nice life for themselves here.”
“They love you very much.”
I nod and add some apples to a pot to boil with sugar and cinnamon. “Sometimes they use the we love you so much just so they can intrude. Try to take control. Embarrass their children.”
“I think most parents do that,” he says with a laugh. “That’s not necessarily an Italian trait.”
“I know.” I sigh and glance over my shoulder at him. “And I don’t mean to complain, especially when I’m standing near a man who no longer has his parents. It’s not that I’m ungrateful.”
“I know. It gets frustrating. Do you make pies like this for the restaurant every year?”
“I usually have apple pie on the menu for fall, but I’ve never been able to make them ahead like this. I normally make them every day at Seduction. And we run out after being open for an hour. Even if I bake twenty pies, they’ll be gone in three days.”
“I’m so proud of you, Mia.”
My head whips up in surprise.
“I mean it,” he continues. The apples are all peeled and sliced now, and he’s leaning against the countertop, his arms crossed over his chest. “What you’ve done with your restaurant is beyond impressive.”
“It’s taken a village. There are five of us,” I remind him, but he shakes his head.
“I’m not trying to take anything away from the others. It’s obvious that you all live and breathe that place. But as a chef, I know how much work goes into designing a kitchen, building a menu, and all of the little things that no one else thinks about. You’ve put a lot of yourself into it.”
“I have,” I agree and stir the apples, then get to work on the crusts. “And you’re right. There were plenty of nights when the girls would go home around midnight and I’d stay through the night. Especially in the beginning. I’m not telling you this for sympathy.”
“I know.”
“I just enjoy experimenting, and I really love my job.”
“I know that too.”
“So it’s been a labor of love for all of us. The aphrodisiac element was my idea. I liked the thought of our place being sexy. A place where a newlywed couple could come, or maybe a first date. Anniversaries. People say all the time, my husband took me out on a date, and I wanted us to open a place that catered to date night.
“It’s in every element of the place. Not just the food. Addie designed a wonderful dining room, with rich fabrics. Comfortable colors that relax and stir the senses. The music piped through the place is sexy. It came together better than any of us expected.”
“It’s a sensation,” he says with a nod. “I heard about it not long after you opened. I didn’t know you were one of the owners at the time, but your restaurant made its way through the food grapevine. What you’ve done is remarkable.”
“Thank you.” I smile widely and lay the crust in a pie plate, then fill it with apples. “That means a lot.”
“What can I do now?”
“These two are about to go in the oven. If you want to start more apples in the pot for two more pies, we’ll get them going as well.”
For the next twenty minutes, we work side by side, not needing to talk at all. The quiet is comfortable, and my house is beginning to smell amazing.
“Hello?”
Landon’s voice calls out from my front door just as the next two pies go into the oven. Camden and I walk out of the kitchen to greet him.
“Hey,” Camden says and shakes Landon’s hand. “How are you?”
“Good.” Landon smiles at me and cocks a brow. “How are you?”
“I’m good too,” I reply. He sniffs deeply.
“Pie!”
“It’s still baking,” I inform him, rolling my eyes.
“Great. I’ll stay long enough to have hot pie.” He grins and takes a seat at my dining room table.
“Is that the only reason you’re here? Did your psychic powers tell you that we’re baking today?”
“I don’t have psychic powers,” Landon informs Camden, who only smiles in response. “I just had a few hours free and thought I’d swing by to see you. Cami said you took the day off.”
“I did. Camden and I went to the orchard for apples.”
“So I take it the new chef is working out?”
“He’s really great,” I reply with a nod. “And I trust him, so I can take more days off.”
“I’m glad. You worried me.”
“Oh please.” I roll my eyes and stand when I hear the timer in the kitchen. “The first two are done.”
I rush back to pull them out of the oven, set them on cooling racks, and return to the dining room.
“You saying that you’re worried about me is ridiculous,” I say, carrying on where I left off.
“Why?” Landon asks.
“Because you used to fly fighter jets in enemy territory. That is worth being worried over.”
“Did you really?” Camden asks.
“Mia never told you?” Landon asks. Camden shakes his head.
“No, if I remember right, she just said that her brother was in the navy.”
“I was, but she left out the best part.” He glares at me, and I know it’s all in fun. Landon isn’t one to brag. “I flew jets. I was stationed on aircraft carriers for years.”
“What made you decide to get out?”
“I had an accident,” he says and shakes his head. “I had to eject, and once you do that, your career is over.”
“I had no idea.”
Landon nods. “Most guys, if they walk away from an ejection, suffer from head or spinal injuries. But even if you don’t, you can never be released to fly again. I didn’t want to ride a desk, so I got out.”
“How have you been feeling?” I ask him.
“I’m fit as a fiddle. And I want pie.”
“It’s still cooling.”
“That’s when it’s best.” He turns on his pouty face and bats his eyelashes at me, and I roll my eyes and
stand. “Fine, I’ll cut you some. Would you like a piece, Camden?”
“Sure. Thanks, sweetheart.”
I walk back into the kitchen and cut us each a slice, then scoop out vanilla ice cream to go with it. I use my pretty dessert plates because it makes me happy.
The guys probably won’t even notice.
Just as I’ve loaded up my tray and am about to return to the dining room, I can hear Landon speaking in a low, serious tone.
So of course I stop and listen.
“I know you care about her,” Landon says. “I can see that, and from what I can see, you’re a decent guy. She has it bad for you and I’m happy for her. I really am. But just be gentle with her. I don’t think she’s had a lot of gentle in her life, especially from men.”
“I have no intentions to hurt her,” Camden says, also in a hushed tone.
“I should hope not,” Landon says. “I know she comes off as being really badass and tough, and trust me when I say that most of the time she is those things. But she also has one of the kindest hearts I know. Once she lets someone into her life, she doesn’t half-ass it. She loves big, Camden. And if she trusts you, you’d best make damn sure you don’t fuck that up; because with Mia, once the trust is gone, you’re toast. She may forgive, but she never forgets.”
“I know that too,” Camden says. “I don’t know how or why I’ve been given this second opportunity to have her in my life, but here it is all the same, and I am not going to fuck it up.”
“Glad to hear it, man.”
I have to clear my throat and will the tears to stay at bay. Two of the most important men in my life just had a come-to-Jesus conversation for me.
I think that’s a first.
I’ve had plenty of them with other people, but I don’t think that Landon or Dad have ever tried to warn off a guy I was interested in.
Not that I brought many of them around.
I walk back into the dining room and pass around the dessert. The ice cream has just barely started to melt.
“Vanilla ice cream too?” Camden asks and digs in.
“I’m no beginner. My dessert game is strong.”
“It’s early for dessert,” Landon says with a frown, checking the clock on the wall.
“It’s never too early for dessert,” I reply and take a bite. “You can take the rest of this pie home to share with Cami.”
“Thanks.”
“And I mean share with Cami. She told me what happened the last time I sent that cake home with you.”
“What happened?” Camden asks.
“I put it in the microwave,” Landon says defensively.
“And you forgot to tell Cami that it was there.”
He cringes. “So, I’d go into the kitchen and think, Oh, there’s cake. And I’d cut myself a piece, eat it, and go about my day. That happened every day until the cake was gone.”
“And then a few days later, I asked Cami if she liked the cake. And she was like, What cake?”
“Not a smart move, man,” Camden says, laughing.
“Trust me, I’ve been reminded over and over to never do it again.”
“Especially now that she’s pregnant,” I say and feel my heart soften. “I haven’t seen much of you since Cami told us. How are you doing?”
“I’m nervous,” he admits and turns to Camden. “We lost a baby when we first got married. We weren’t sure if she could have children after that.”
“But here we are,” I say and reach over to squeeze his hand. “Cami’s healthy, and that’s going to be one spoiled little baby.”
“Yeah.” He grins and takes another bite of pie. “And if I forget to tell her that we have pie, she’ll cut my dick off.”
“That seems harsh,” Camden says.
“Well, I put the toilet paper on the roll backwards, and she threatened my manhood over that, and this would be much worse.”
“Maybe I should send her a pie just for her.”
“Not a bad idea,” Landon says.
Chapter Fourteen
~Camden~
“Hey Camden,” Addie says in greeting when I walk through the front door of Seduction two weeks later.
“Hi. Is Mia in the kitchen?”
“She is.” She bites her lip and looks back toward Mia’s domain. “You may not want to go back there.”
“Why? Is she okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine.” Addie nods, but her face has uncertainty written all over it. “But she’s in a mood.”
“I brought coffee,” I reply confidently, and saunter through the dining room to the kitchen. I open the door and stop dead, taking in the scene before me.
There are two sous chefs on staff today, and they’re both scurrying around as if they’ve just had a fire lit under them.
Mia is nowhere to be seen.
“Excuse me.”
No one looks up from their task, and Mia hurries out of the walk-in freezer.
“Hi,” I say and walk over to her. I hold the coffee out, suddenly very unsure of myself.
“Hello yourself,” she says.
“I brought coffee.”
“Thank you.” She offers me a quick smile then gestures to the countertop beside her. “You can set it down.”
She hurries away again, but before I can turn around, she’s back.
“Do you need something, Camden?” she asks. She’s clearly busy, and maybe a bit pissed off, so I do what I know to do with Mia.
I wrap my arms around her from behind and hug her. She stiffens. “I’m at work.”
“So you are.”
“Seriously, Camden.” She wiggles away and turns to face me now, no humor anywhere on her face. “What’s up?”
“I was just thinking about you, so I thought I’d stop in and bring you something. See if I can help out.”
“I don’t need any help today,” she says and turns away. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“It’s gonna get cold if you don’t drink it.”
She stops what she’s doing, sighs, picks up the cup, and takes a sip.
“Yum. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I smile brightly, but she doesn’t return it. “What’s going on, Mia?”
“I’m just trying to catch up here. These two yayhoos were supposed to come in early today to prep for later, and neither of them remembered.” She says remembered with finger quotation marks. “So here we are, busting ass to be ready on time.”
“I told you, I can help.”
“I don’t need your help. I need the people I pay good money to to show up on fucking time.” She glares at the others. Neither is brave enough to look up. “So, thanks for the coffee, but I don’t have time to stand here and entertain you.”
“Must be about to start her period,” I mumble and turn away. I don’t reach the door before I hear one of the sous chefs say, “Dumbass.”
“What did you just say?” Mia demands. I turn around to find her standing with her hands fisted on her hips and her blue eyes shooting fire.
She’s gorgeous when she’s pissed off.
“I was just making an observation,” I reply. “You weren’t this moody this morning, which was literally two hours ago. And now I can’t seem to do anything right.”
“God grant me the strength to not beat the shit out of the people around me today,” she says as she scrubs her hands over her face. “You know what, Camden, I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t even deal with you right now. Or later.”
“I can meet you at your place—”
“Tomorrow,” she repeats, eyes narrowed.
“Fine.”
I turn and march out of the kitchen, but rather than leave, I walk into the bar. Kat’s behind it, rotating liquor bottles.
“Hey Camden, what can I do for you?” she asks with a smile. I don’t know Kat well, but from what I’ve seen of her, I like her. She has a style all of her own, with her flaming red hair and interesting outfits. Today she’s in a red shirt with white polka dots. It’s tied at
her waist, and she’s wearing short denim shorts.
It works for her.
“Hi, Kat.” I sit on a stool and sigh. “I need a drink.”
“It’s not even noon yet.”
“And yet, here I am. Don’t make me beg.”
She smirks. “What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
“Wow.” She pulls a glass down and pours two fingers of whiskey in it, then slides it over.
I swallow it, then pass it back for more.
This time, when she hands it back to me, I sip it.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re drinking straight whiskey this early in the day?”
“Maybe I just like to drink a lot.”
“Do you like to drink a lot?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” She smiles and sets her work aside so she can listen to me. “What’s up?”
“You seem oddly easy to talk to.”
“I have a psychology degree.”
“Should I call you Doc?”
“Nah. Just Kat.”
I nod and sip my drink. “Mia’s pissed at me.”
“Yeah, I heard she was on a tear this morning. That hasn’t happened in a while. Since you got here, actually.”
“I have no idea why she’s pissed.”
“It probably has nothing at all to do with you,” she says reasonably.
“Then why is she taking it out on me?”
“Because you’re the person who means the most to her. Of course she’s going to take it out on you. How old are you, Camden?”
“Thirty-two.”
“And you’re just now finding out that women can take out their frustration and anger on you even if it’s not your fault? I would think this is something you’d have experience in far sooner than this.”
“I don’t think I really cared before,” I answer truthfully. “Most of my previous relationships have been casual. I work a lot of hours. I don’t have time to invest in a relationship.”
“I hope you’re about to say until now.”
“Until now,” I reply with a smile and sip my whiskey. “She has quite the temper.”
“Oh, this is nothing. She’s a pussycat this morning.” Kat laughs and takes a drink of her own coffee. Suddenly, I can hear Mia yelling, but I can’t make out the words. “Okay, now it’s moved into pissed off territory.”