Page 11 of Go Cook Yourself
I grab gum from my station to stop my teeth from breaking from all my grinding, but Kath sidles up to me before I can shove it in my mouth.
“She’s doing well, don’t you think?” Kath says, looking in Ruby’s direction.
I shrug. “So no one is leaving me alone today, then.”
“Don’t be so surly,” Kath replies, and a smile tickles my lips. “I know you’re tired. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Sorry.” I drop my eyes and slide the gum into my back pocket. “Is Amber okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine but won’t return before Christmas. It’s the twins. So you two should find a way to get along.”
Together, we watch Ruby move from counter to counter, offering advice and bringing more smiles than when she arrived. Her fingers pick at the plaster that’s keeping her bandage on. I could redress it for her as an apology.
“Ruby is a baker. She used to work in a cooperative bakery and run her own business, and I heard she was very good at it. You might learn something from her,” Kath explains.
I snort, which draws Kath’s glare.
“I meant learn something about how you treat people. You may have charmed the women here today, but you’ve upset someone who has the same goal as you—to make this cookery school work.” Her hand rests on my shoulder. “And maybe take a moment to consider that you’re not the only one having a bad week. She might be smiling, but a lot is going on in that head of hers.”
Kath walks away, leaving me with a tight chest and a thickness in my throat. She’s right. I don’t know what’s going on with Ruby, and ostracising my team and treating them like crap may have been the way I worked in the kitchen, but it’s not going to work here.
I’ve acted today like Clive used to act. I drop my head, shaking it slowly.
Chapter Seven
Garett
Ruby’s laugh, as she stands at Betty’s counter, is a tinkling melody, and I stop everything to listen as if it’s my favourite song on the radio.
I should apologise for my earlier behaviour, but one of the rules of running a kitchen is that you never say sorry. Your staff shouldn’t learn you’re weak. It invites questions and uncertainty that don’t fit a fraught kitchen environment. Boss it at all times. There’s a reason why panicked people shout, “Yes, Chef.”
I rub my sore jaw.
My career as a restaurant chef is still ruined, Clive is starting a baking competition, and I haven’t got my dog, but if Ruby hadn’t been here, seeing Cookie would have left me in agony for the entire day. She’s made me smile even though I’ve tried to fight her happiness and kindness. That mixture of joy and beauty has excited me in ways I refuse to voice. I don’t want to be another Wicksy.
As I watch her demonstrate fondant shapes to Betty, the flyer for Clive’s competition lies on the counter. It churns my stomach. I bet it’s an attempt to steal a contestant’s recipes.
But there’s nothing I can do about that.
I step towards the workstation where Ruby instructs Betty about an icing technique, fingering the packet of gum in my pocket, but then Ruby does that thing that makes me lick my lipsas my body fires hotter. She pulls the elastic that keeps her bun in place. Her hair falls like flour blown across a countertop. It’s like waves of spun sugar as it rests below her shoulders before her fingers twist and tease it into a simple yet elegant bun. She’s missed a few strands each of the three times she’s wrapped her hair, and this time is no different. It must be a nervous habit, but it’s quickly becoming a highlight of my day.
I shouldn’t butt in, and I certainly shouldn’t go against one of my chef mantras and apologise.
A dusting of freckles cover her nose and cheeks, like icing sugar on a Victoria sponge. I steel myself and focus on unwrapping the gum, but I can’t resist speaking to her as I do it. “So you’re a baker rather than a cookery school manager?”
Betty replies for her, “Yes, she is. She was telling me about the business she ran before she moved here. It was called Naughty Bits.”
“Treats,” Ruby splutters. “Naughty Treats.”
I pat her on the back.Don’t linger. You don’t want to be creeping her out after you’ve already pissed her off.The brief touch leaves my hand warm.
“And what does Naughty Treats involve? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Ruby’s laugh is stilted, and pink tinges her ear lobes. “Oh, nothing in particular. Just fun shapes.”
I slowly roll my shirt sleeves to reveal my forearms. She’s staring at them like they’re the secret to eternal youth. I flex my muscles like a peacock with a praise kink. “Why don’t you show me the sorts of designs you did? I want to see what you’re really capable of.”
She smiles at Betty. “Keep doing what you’re doing. The fondant shapes look great.”