It’s irrational, it’s stupid, and I hate it, but I can’t seem to make it go away.
Being trapped makes me a prick and I could tell Isla that, but it would mean I’d have to admit I had been afraid and now was not the time to offer up my vulnerabilities on a platter. If I handed her that ammunition, she’d be locking me in the freezer every chance she got, hoping I’d quit. She looked capable of that, easily.
“Do you mean I’m angry now, or in the elevator?” she asked. “Because when you got in the elevator, I smiled at you. I tried to be nice, and you dismissed me. You didn’t even smile back.”
Oh, so that was it. Her pride had been pricked. The reality had been I had gotten into the elevator against my better judgment. Normally I took the stairs but I had told myself it was only four floors, what were the odds anything would happen? So when I got in the elevator I had barely noticed her. I was concentrating on holding my annoying and irrational fear at bay.
I sipped my drink and eyed her. “I don’t love elevators. It was nothing personal. Besides, I believe you called me an asshole at least once. You made your point.” Right before she had kissed me. Or had I kissed her? It was hard to say. It was more like a mutual meeting of the mouths.
“Fine,” she said shortly. “Why am I here, exactly? What is this supposed to accomplish? Other than treating me to the joy of hearing about your manwhore days.”
Yep. Angry. “I thought we could clear the air about me being sprung on you at the meeting. Like I said, I thought you already knew. The question is how do we work together as a team going forward.”
She made a face and rolled her eyes.
“That’s a reassuring response.” I raised my drink in salute.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked.
The question caught me off guard.
“Because you looked like you wanted me to.”
It was the wrong answer. I knew it the minute the words left my mouth.
It was confirmed when she threw her drink in my face.
Or she would have if she hadn’t been sipping a vodka on the rocks. Mostly what happened when she tried to toss liquid in my direction was the ice shifted around in her glass. One piece slipped out and did hit me in the chest but the bulk of the ice held back until gravity yanked the cubes out and they fell between our legs to the floor. The vodka followed it, mostly landing on Isla’s knee.
“Great talk,” I told her.
Three
Sean was just watching me impassively, the corner of his mouth turning up as he fought a smile. The ice cube that had hit him in the chest bounced off and he had caught it and popped it into his mouth. His teeth crunched into the ice and I seethed.
He hadn’t even had the decency to jump when I’d attempted to throw my drink in his face. It’s like he’d already known it would fail. I was the only one who had gotten wet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just my knee that was damp. What the hell was it about him that turned me on?
I hated it. I hated him.
“I did not want you to kiss me.” It might have been the biggest lie I’d told since claiming I was sneaking back into our apartment at fifteen years old at six in the morning to pick up my forgotten homework and I hadn’t wanted to disturb my grandfather. The look he’d given me could have peeled paint. He’d known I’d been out all night. Just like Sean knew I had kissed him willingly.
“My mistake.” Sean handed me a napkin.
I took it and blotted the knee of my jeans. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. He had asked how we moved forward and I had been unable to resist the urge to bring up the stupid kiss. It had been bugging me that he seemed perfectly content to pretend it had never happened. It was a personality flaw. I was notorious for asking questions when there was no possible way I was going to like the answer.
“As long as you respect me as a professional and peer, we’ll be fine in the kitchen,” I said, answering his previous question a little after the fact.
He glanced down at my empty glass. “Professional. Sure.”
For a second I was speechless, which was unprecedented. Then I opened my mouth to say who the hell even knew what, but it was going to be scathing, when both of our phones buzzed simultaneously.
It was Nico texting me.
Are you sure you want to quit? I’ll give you one shot at taking it back.
My stomach clenched and my throat tightened up. I hadn’t quit. Had Martin told him that I was quitting too?
Then I realized my text bubble sitting above his words said quite clearly, “I quit.”
Oh. My. God. Somehow the text I had typed at Savannah’s just to get my emotions out had been sent. I had never intended to send that. I’d actually thought I’d deleted it.
But right after that I had handed my phone to Sully. Oh, help, a baby had texted my boss telling him I quit. Shit, shit, and shit.
“You’re quitting?” Sean asked, and damn if he didn’t sound happy about that.
“What?” My heart rate was shooting up as I contemplated how to respond to Nico. “No. I’m not quitting. I told you that.”
“Then why is Nico saying you are?” He held his phone up.
“It’s a misunderstanding.” I typed fast.
No, I don’t want to quit. I didn’t mean to send that to you.
It sounded ridiculous but it wasn’t like I could claim the text was meant for someone else. It wasn’t a phrase you tossed at many people in your life.
Are you sure? Because Martin just quit too and if you want out, do it now. I’ll be pissed if you come at me two weeks from now saying you’re out.
I swallowed hard.
No. I don’t want to quit.
Good. No bullshit.
Nope. No bullshit.
I took a deep breath and raised my hand, needing the bartender to replace the drink I’d tried to throw at Sean. I needed a sip to steady my nerves. That had been close.
“Tell Nico you’re with me and I’m insisting I don’t want to quit,” I told Sean.
“What?” he asked, clearly distracted. He was still studying his phone. Finally, he looked up. “Oh, sure. Tell Nico you don’t want to quit. I can do that.”
I frowned, just a little. I was about to answer when I got a response from Nico.
If Chef Kincaid quits, it's on you, Isla. He quits, you’re fired.
Holy shit, was he serious?
Everything about this week was just a dumpster fire. It was tempting to argue with Nico, but I had already accidentally texted him (I couldn’t blame the baby, as much as I wanted to), so I had to just suck it up and comply.
Complying doesn’t come naturally to me.
I swallowed my pride.
Got it. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.
The bartender brought my fresh drink and I took a larger sip than was wise. For a minute both Sean and I sat there in silence.
Then he cleared his throat. “Tell me about the rest of the staff. I’m sure you know them better than Nico and Sid. Then I should probably head out, I have plans later.”
A date? Not that I cared. Much. “I do know the staff really well.” I gave him the lowdown, trying to focus on the positive only. “They’re great people.”
The whole time it was rolling around in my head that I had to keep Sean happy or I was out of a job.