Kristin Hardy - The Chef's Choice - The Chef's Choice

“If you’re not going to buy anything then what, exactly, are we doing here?"

“Recon.” He gave her an amused glance. “I want to see what’s out there, what I can get around here. If I can find something for tonight’s special, so much the better. Like these.” He picked up a different mushroom.

“What are they?” She stared suspiciously at the pointy, honeycombed fungus.

“Morels. Unbelievable flavor and texture.”

She watched as he sifted through the pile, hands quick, picking some mushrooms for his bag, leaving others. “I’ll take your word for it."

“What I need now are some ramps,” he said after he’d finished with the cashier. “I’ll sauté them up in a little ragout and put it over a poached haddock."

“I’m sure they’ll all come running. What are ramps, anyway?”

“Wild baby leeks that grow in the woods this time of year. They taste like a cross between onions and garlic. I can’t believe nobody’s got any here. We’ll have to hunt some down.” He started walking again.

She trailed along after him. “Not we, you. I’ve got a job, remember?"

“How about you quit and come be my forager? You grow stuff, you’d be good at it."

“I brought you to the market. Wasn’t that enough?”

“It would be if it was a real market.” He shook his head. “This is pathetic. Most of it’s from last year."

The criticism had her raising her chin. “I told you, it’s too early for fresh produce here. It won’t really get going until July."

“The green market in Manhattan had ramps and asparagus and squash blossoms last week."

“And it’s four temperature zones away from us,” she defended. “This is Maine. We have snow until April. We grow what we can. If you want more of a choice, feel free to drive down to Boston. In fact, feel free to keep going."

He studied her. “You don’t want me here, do you?”

Cady opened her mouth, closed it. “It’s not a matter of what I want. It’s my parents’ business and they think you’re the right guy for the job."

“You’re evading the question.”

“Okay, how about this? I’ve seen the headlines. I know your style. You don’t fit here."

He smiled. “You don’t believe in soft-pedaling things, do you?”

“Why waste the time?”

“And you think you know all about me.”

“Given all the press you’ve generated, it’s kind of hard not to.”

“Now who’s wasting time?” he countered. “Half of those stories are exaggerations, the other half are outright lies."

She folded her arms. “So, what, you didn’t throw people out of your restaurant?"

“Okay, I might have asked one or two people to leave early on,” he admitted. “You’ve got a restaurant, you know how they can be. In fact, I’d be a little shocked if you’ve never thrown someone out yourself."

“The customer is always right,” she reminded him, not bothering to add that she’d never had the choice.

“That’s funny coming from someone whose operating assumption seems to be that everyone else in the world is wrong but them.”

Her cheeks tinted. “We’re not talking about me.”

“I am.”

“Stop changing the subject. This is about you. Maybe I didn’t see you punch your sous chef but I know you yelled at him because I saw it."

“You saw it?”

She could have bitten her tongue. “My girlfriend was watching Chef’s Challenge.” “You don’t say.”

“And I know the story of the woman in your office is true because the husband named you in the divorce proceedings."

“Well, well. You have been studying up,” he said and something flickered in the depths of his eyes.

“What, are you trying to say it didn’t happen?” she challenged.

“I think that’s between her and me.” He reached out to catch the hood strings of the jacket she wore. “The same way it would be between you and me if anything happened."

“Nothing’s going to happen with us,” Cady returned, but suddenly it was hard to catch a breath.

“Mmm, careful what you say,” Damon murmured, tugging her forward a bit. “That sounds like a dare."

She should have been smacking his hand away. She should have been turning on her heel to go. She couldn’t understand why all she was doing was looking into those eyes as he leaned closer and wondering what it would be like if—

“Hey, Cady!” A shout came from behind her, releasing her from the spell.

She did move to smack Damon’s hand away then, but he’d already released her. She turned away without another word, not trusting herself.

“Pete,” she called and crossed over to the booth where a burly man with a graying close-trimmed beard waved at her.

“Hey, good to see you. Howya doing?” he asked from behind a table covered with baskets of tomatoes.

“Good. How’s Jenny?” she asked, thinking of his neat, compact wife.

“Good, thanks.”

Damon walked up to the stand to look at the tomatoes gleaming ruby red in the sun.

“Nice.” He picked one up, nodding to Pete. “Hothouse?”

“Yep.” Pete adjusted the NAPA cap on his grizzled hair. “Early Girl beefsteaks."

Damon sniffed the tomato he held and put it down in favor of another, turning it over in his hands. “How many greenhouses?” he asked.

“Two. Careful how you handle that.”

“What’s the square footage?”

Pete’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You lookin’ to buy my tomatoes or my greenhouse?"

“Pete.” Cady stepped forward. “I want you to meet our new chef at the Sextant, Damon Hurst. Damon, meet Pete Tebeau."

“The new chef? Why didn’t you say so? Pleased to meetcha.” Damon found his hand enveloped by a hand the approximate size of an oven mitt. “Does that mean we’re not going to see you here anymore, Cady?"

“If I’ve got anything to say about it. Not that seeing you isn’t the highlight of my day, Pete.” She grinned at the guy and suddenly she looked young, mischievous and downright pretty.

And Damon kept his jaw from dropping, only just. She was flirting with the guy. This scratchy-tongued woman who had turned being a curmudgeon into a holy calling was joking around, chatting up a guy old enough to be her father.

“The highlight of your day? You’d be amazed at how many women tell me that.” Pete didn’t miss a beat.

Cady snorted. “You better hope Jenny doesn’t get wind of it.”

“She’s the one who says it most of all.”

It had all the hallmarks of an old game between them. It had all the signs of a long friendship. And he couldn’t stop watching her.

“So, how are the plans for the big weekend?” Cady asked.

Pete’s eyes gleamed. “Great, thanks to you. We’re in one of your cabins, harbor view, they said."

“I’ll make sure Lynne puts you in guesthouse two,” Cady said. “It’s got the prettiest view of the water. You can sit out on the deck in the morning with your coffee. Jenny’s going to love it."

“I hope so. I want her to be happy.”

“After twenty-five years, Pete, I think you can be pretty sure she’s happy."

“Yeah, but she’s had a rough time lately, what with losing her dad and all.” He took his cap off and turned it around in his hands. “I want to give her a special anniversary, something she’ll remember."

Like a weekend at the Compass Rose, Damon translated. “You’re coming to the inn for your anniversary?” he asked.

Tebeau nodded. “This weekend. Usually I just take her out and buy her a lobster. I figured twenty-five years deserved something more, though. This young lady helped."

The young lady in question flushed and looked away.

“Tell you what,” Damon said. “Come to the restaurant for dinner while you’re there. I’ll make you a special meal. Off the menu, I mean, just for you two. What does your wife like to eat?"