“It’s nothing,” I say. “It’s a nice shirt. I’d hate to see it get ruined.” Karl smirks. “I could just buy another. But thanks.” We’re close, too close, and my thoughts betray me, drifting to places they have no business going. Memories flicker through my mind—the feel of his arms around me, the
I’m standing over a steaming pot of ragù, stirring as I listen to the sizzle and pop of ingredients melding together in culinary harmony. The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity, the dinner rush in full swing. But amidst the orchestrated chaos, a discordant note strikes my ears. It's John, my head
I lean back in my chair, my mind racing. The atmosphere in the restaurant, especially the kitchen, is like a finely tuned instrument. Each individual, from the dishwasher to the head chef, plays an important role. Disharmony in one section can disrupt the entire composition, and right now, we’re o
It’s Friday afternoon before the dinner rush, both the best—and worst—time to get this over with. The idea, planted in my head by Ethan, has been rolling around in my head for two days. Finally, I decide to set it into motion. I lean against the door frame of my office, taking a deep breath before
The door to Abby’s office swings shut behind me, and my mind races as I walk back into the kitchen. First, she asks me to make nice with Chloe, and now this? Apprenticing under John, of all people? A guy I can’t even stand to be in the same room with? “Karl, grab the veal from the fridge. Now.” Jo
I’m standing by the stainless steel counter, doing my best to look like I’m occupied with inventory and prepping the dough for our fresh bread in the morning. But my real focus is on the fiery dance unfolding in front of me—Karl and John, circling each other in the kitchen like two alpha wolves in
With a final deep breath to center myself, I tuck my phone back into my pocket. It’s time to return to the battlefield that is my kitchen, to the tensions and trials that still await me there. … The kitchen is bustling with activity, the aroma of sautéed garlic and simmering sauces filling the a
Standing in the alley, the tension between Karl and me is almost palpable, like a living, breathing entity that neither of us can ignore. His eyes search mine, as if trying to excavate the truth from deep within me. “Is it true, Abby? Your wolf is—” I cut him off, not wanting to delve into that