Page 74 of Go Cook Yourself
“They’ll understand. The business is growing, and there’s enough skill there as it is. They’ll be able to get different chefs for different types of classes. Having me there as their regular chef limits them.”
Flora guffaws. “Sure, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. It’s not only about the school, though. They’ve all welcomed you in as part of their family.”
“It’s just a job,” I lie. My forehead wrinkles again. Kath checking in on me every morning, Wicksy coming to me for relationship advice, the window to Iain and Liz’s life—it’s like the family I never knew I needed.
“And Ruby? Is she another co-worker?”
I focus on Cookie’s ears flapping as he sprints back.
“She likes you,” Flora adds, gripping my shoulders and turning me to face her. “Don’t play games with her if it doesn’t mean anything.”
I toy with the idea of telling Flora about my arrangement with Ruby, but I promised I wouldn’t. “She’s a friend. That’s how we both see it,” I reply brusquely, gritting my teeth.
“I’m not sure that’s how she sees it. Based on something she said to Kath.”
My heart jumps with hope, but it’s like a firework, and as it hits a high, it quickly turns and crashes back down. In a month, she’ll be deciding whether she works with Clive because I’ll have told her the truth. I’ll be away, and that’s precisely how it should be. It’s for the best. Yet it feels like I’m destroying myself from the inside out.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know what she said.” Yet curiosity controls every fibre of my being. “Tell me about the plans you’re making with Iain and Liz. What’s happening?”
As she talks, I bury my face in Cookie’s fur and attempt to control my feelings before I hurt anyone else or send myself into a spiralling pain I can’t escape.
.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ruby
Another day at the cookery school is another opportunity to get as close to Garett as I can.
A group of women have chatted him up all day. It was a hen do cocktail-making and cake-baking class, and they arrived drunk and moaning about how cold it was. What did they expect in mid-December? They heckled me through my cocktail demonstrations, and now they’re finding ways to touch Garett as he walks around their benches. He stifles a yawn. He’s done that throughout this class. His hair is messy from how many times he’s shoved his hand through it.
One lady sips her cocktail while staring at Garett over her glass. She flutters her eyelashes. I’ve put up with it all day, and this is the last ten minutes of the class while they decorate their cakes. “So tell me, Chef Garett, do you give instructions in other places, too?”
Garett furrows his brows. “I often tell my dog what to do.”
“Is your dog a good girl for you, Garett?”
I let out my hair before retying it. He likes it when I do that but is too busy to notice. My blood boils as I rip into the chocolate bar he left for me when he came in this morning. He keeps bringing me treats. He probably got it because he was latetoday. He hasn’t explained why he was late or tired, and not knowing kills me.
“Well, he’s a boy, so no.”
“I have a dog, too. If she’s well-behaved, what would you say?”
“I’d tell her she was a good girl for me.” His head wrinkles because his eyebrows are so knotted. I know he’s not flirting back, but the fucking jealousy monster is jabbing me.
Within seconds, I’ve destroyed the chocolate bar. It’s given me no comfort. Garett and the woman continue chatting. I huff loudly. I’m being unfair, as he’s not into whatever that woman is doing.
My knuckles are white where I grip the countertop. Since he pretended to be my fake boyfriend, he’s been distracted when we’re together. We’ve laughed and baked, but he’s hiding something. We haven’t had sex since that last night, and as much I know it was incredible for both of us, a voice still niggles me that maybe he doesn’t want to repeat it because I was terrible. Spending time with him has lessened my anxiety about Clive Macdonald’s competition, even though there are ten days to go, but I’m anxious about Garett instead.
“Say good girl again.”
Now she’s stroking his forearms. They’re my forearms.
I storm over. Everyone’s staring at me, including Wicksy and Kath. I yank Garett down to my level by grabbing his shirt collar. “You only use those words on me,” I grunt before kissing him with every ounce of neediness that’s brewed in me since our night together.
At first, his hands falter, but then one hand presses against my back while the other thrusts into my hair, pulling the elastic out. His tongue presses my lips open, and I taste the spiced orange from the mocktail I gave him. Orange and cinnamon with a rosemary fizz. He tastes of all the best Christmases, and I takethe kiss deeper. His hand on my back presses me closer, and it’s all I can do not to grind against him.
The woman flirting with him huffs and moans about unprofessionalism, making me pull back. “That’s my good girl,” he growls in my ear as I push away from his chest.