Page 35 of Stolen Dreams
With a shake of my head, I say, “You’re perfect.” And then, I mentally slap myself and try again. “Still have another ten to fifteen minutes before we get started.” Not trusting myself, I clasp my hands behind my back. “Let me show you where we’re hosting the classes.”
I lead Kaya to one of the event spaces in the back.
Most of the sizable rooms are set up for large gatherings and celebrations. Several tables, chairs, and couches with softlylit sconces and chandeliers. A personal bar stocked with all the essentials, a grand fireplace with tall wine racks lining either side and a large window overlooking the bay.
Thankfully, my grandfather and his business partners, Ray Sr. and Roger Kemp, opted to furnish one of the restaurant’s event spaces with a colossal kitchen and enough seating for thirty. The space has only been reserved a few times since I’ve worked at Calhoun’s Bistro. Different occasions when the party wanted a personal chef and set menu or to cook for their significant other with our guidance.
“Here we are.” I open the door and am hit with excited chatter.
Tucker glances our way and lights up. Scrambling out of his seat, he rushes across the room. “Miss Kaya.” Before I can stop him, he slams into her and wraps his arms around her middle.
My cheeks heat as I wince. “Tucker…”
Kaya chuckles. “Hi, Tucker.” She gently wraps him in her arms, then releases him. “I wondered if I’d see you today.”
I tap Tucker’s shoulder. “How about we let Miss Kaya come in.”
He drops his arms and shuffles back. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” A soft smile plumps her cheeks. “I’m happy you’re here, too.”
For a moment, I’m struck speechless. Bewildered. A little thrown off at how easily Tucker and Kaya interact with one another. How comfortable they are in each other’s company.
What did she say her title was at the school?Behavioral specialist.
The way they smile and chat tells me Tucker is at ease with her. Delighted. Glad he has someone familiar here.
She told me over breakfast she’d met Tucker. But why? At the time, I was too enamored with her to ask.
I would know if something happened at school, wouldn’t I? If Tucker caused trouble and was sent to the office, someone would call or email. I flashback to him talking to the toy a couple weeks ago. If someone bullied him and he spoke with Kaya, she would reach out. Right? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I stop myself. Resist the urge to question why the school’s behavioral specialist is acquainted with my son. This isn’t the place.
Another time.
Tucker bounds off to hover near Fin and the other kids.
“Once everyone’s here, I’ll give a more eloquent speech about your role,” I say as I inch closer to Kaya. “But all we’re asking is that you help keep the kids focused. We expect them to be boisterous and a little loud, but we don’t want to detract from why we’re all here.”
Smile still on her face, Kaya stares at the kids and nods. “If you need me to do more or less at any time, just let me know.”
I shuffle back to see her in more than my periphery. And for a moment, I simply breathe her in. The delicate slope of her nose and plump bottom lip. The subtle curve of her brows and the way her thick, long lashes fan out. A light blush highlights her soft cheekbones, a hue darker dusted on her eyelids.
From the corner of my eye, Fin glances at us, a wicked smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. It’s enough to snap me out of my Kaya-induced haze.
“Chef Beaulieu wanted me to ask if you’d mind taking pictures or videos occasionally. Otherwise, we’re good for now.”
André comes in with the rest of the students. Everyone finds their designated seat and we go around the room and introduce ourselves. The class is a good mix of ages ranging from eight to sixteen. We let the kids know that Kaya, as well as some parents, are here to help make the class fun.
While Fin and I go over the basic outlined schedule, André retrieves the chef’s coats we got for everyone. We pass out thecoats and help the kids put them on. Rather than hand Kaya hers to put it on herself, I offer to help.
“I’m quite capable,” she teases as I hold the coat open for her.
“Don’t doubt it. Just thought I’d help.”
Before she spins around, I spot the heat coloring her neck and cheeks. “Thank you.”
Guiding her arms into the sleeves, I step closer as I set the coat on her shoulders. An earthy, rose scent wafts up my nose, and my gaze drops to the nape of her neck.
Does she dab perfume there? The spot just beneath her hair.