Sinfully shameless chef, p.21
Sinfully Shameless Chef, page 21
“A generous benefactor.”
“Who the hell has that kind of money?” She freezes, and her eyes widen slightly. “Grant and Sylvie?”
I nod and offer a shrug. “They insisted.”
“Oh, my God. I can't accept that.”
“You can, and you will. Grant felt terrible about asking you to move the opening date.”
She scowls at me. “No, he didn’t.”
I chuckle. It's good to see her attitude and ability to call me on my bullshit hasn't changed just because we were apart. “You're right; he didn't, but when Sylvie found out, she was furious. And trust me, you don't want to see that woman angry. She had a talk with Grant, and we got things sorted out.”
“What things?”
“Well…” I scan the restaurant and the bustle around us that I wasn’t so sure would ever get to this point. “As I mentioned, they’re taking care of your medical bills, and they’re also paying the rent here for another six months on top of what you already paid so you have plenty of time to not have to worry about making some massive profit.”
“No, no, no.” She pulls out of my hold and raises her hands. “I don't want any handouts. I can't take their money.”
“What about my money?”
“Excuse me?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Would you take my money?”
She scowls at me again and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don't have any money. It's why you needed Grant as a partner in the first place.”
I grin at her. “That's true. But over the last couple of months, I’ve been hired to be the face of a few culinary brands. It turns out being a celebrity chef pays pretty well if you get the right contracts. I’m going to be filming a few commercials and appearing in some print ads soon.”
“You're serious.”
“I am. I want your restaurant to succeed, and I don't want this little hiccup to stop you.”
She chuckles softly. “You call having a kidney transplant a little hiccup?”
A laugh slips from my lips, and I press my hand to my side against the twinge there. “You know what I meant. You're too good, too driven to let this alter your course. I won't let you fail.”
She watches me with skepticism in her gaze. “Why? It’s none of your business.”
Here she goes again. Trying to push me away.
It wasn’t wholly unexpected, but it still hurts more than I’d like to admit. To have her standing here so close to me yet trying so hard to keep me at arm’s length is a major slam to the ego.
“Ashley kept me updated about what happened with your infections in your recovery. I was worried.”
“So, you were stalking me?”
I shrug and smile at her. “More or less. Why, are you going to take out a restraining order against me now?”
She glances behind her at the restaurant where the employees I’ve scraped together from my place and a few new ones hover and watch us anxiously from near the kitchen. “I might. All this is a little crazy. I don't think you're mentally stable.”
“You've always known I'm not mentally stable.”
“That's true. But I can't do this, Jameson. I can't take your money.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up a hand.
“But…” She releases a resigned breath. “I will take Grant and Sylvie’s just because he was a dick. Only as a loan. One that I will repay.”
It’s better than nothing.
For a second there, I thought I was going to have to really fight to get her to accept the offer.
“I'm sure I can get you a decent interest rate.”
She grins at me. “I'm sure you can.” Her smile falters, and she shifts uneasily from foot to foot. “But I don't get it. Why are you doing all this, especially after what happened between us? It’s been months….”
“You made it pretty clear you didn’t want to hear from me. I didn't want to contact you and interfere if you didn't want me there.”
“No, you didn't contact me because you were pissed.”
I close the tiny distance between us and press my body against hers, capturing her face between my palms. “I'm doing this because I want you to succeed. This is your dream, and you deserve to have it.” I open my mouth to say the words I’ve been holding back for months but snap it closed again. “And you're right. I was angry about what you said that day in the hospital. Because it couldn't have been further from the truth. But I got over it quickly and realized I cared more than I was angry.”
“Really?”
I press my forehead against hers and sigh. “Really.”
Tears trickle down her cheeks, but it takes a moment before she reacts. She throws her arms around my waist and squeezes.
Fuck.
I wince and tighten up my body against the sharp stab of pain.
She jerks back, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I rub at the spot. “I'm just fine now that you are.”
Her gaze dips down to my side. “Another hockey injury?”
I shrug. “Something like that. Now let me show you what else I have set up. But first, there’s something I’ve been dying to do…”
It feels like it’s been forever since I held in her my arms, felt her against me, smelled her heavenly scent. This is a moment to seize, not let pass by in a rush to move forward with my other plans.
I lean in and press my lips to hers gently, taking the kiss I've been dreaming about for the last eight weeks and savoring the taste of the woman who holds my heart. Pouring everything into it. Everything we've been through. All the hatred and attraction and tension and loss all rolled into one action.
When I finally drag my head away, she's breathless, and a flush fills her cheeks. “Wow…”
“Wow, what?”
One of her shoulders rises and falls. “I wasn't expecting that. I guess I just assumed you were angry and wanted nothing to do with me and would never want to be near me again.”
The irony of her statement makes me bark out a laugh which sends a twinge of pain to my side again. I drop my hands from her and instinctively grab it.
She narrows her eyes on my hand for the second time. When her gaze reconnects with mine, I can see all the dominoes fall into place in her head. “Oh, no, Jameson. You didn't….”
22
JAMESON
I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide it from her for long, and it had never been my intention to. If she had wanted to see me, if she had asked Ashley to get in contact with me at any point, I would have been there as soon as was humanly possible.
But what I said to her was true—I never wanted to interfere if she didn’t want me there. Plus, I was never quite sure how to say, “Hey, by the way, I gave you my kidney.”
Now that she's figured it out on her own—a little earlier than I had thought she would—it kind of saves me from having to figure out how to broach the subject.
As soon as I winced and grabbed my side, I knew she would understand. She would instantly recognize the tell-tale location of my pain because she’s undoubtedly still feeling it, too. Two months out, I’m mostly healed, but certain things still send those little reminders that my body isn’t complete anymore.
I lock eyes with her confused ones and nod. “I did.”
She jerks out of my hold, grasps the hem of my shirt, and tugs it up. The fresh scar across my side stands pink against my skin under the florescent lighting of the restaurant. “You…” She glances up and back down and tenderly brushes her fingers across the scar. “But how?”
I grab my shirt from her hand and yank it back down. “You are right about what you said before. I was pissed at what you said that day. More than pissed, actually. It felt like you had stabbed me in the fucking heart. Especially because I had come that day to tell you that I was falling in love with you.”
A gasp spills from her lips, and she presses her hand over her mouth.
“I was coming to tell you that I would be with you no matter what happened. That I would support you. I was prepared to never leave your damn side until they found you a fucking donor and I could bring you home. But then, you tossed me away like I was week-old leftovers and accused me of wanting you to be sick.”
Even saying the words now brings back all those old feelings and raises the temperature of my blood. I forgave her a long time ago for what she did and said, but the hurt is still there and maybe always will be.
Tears fall from her eyes now, and she shakes her head. “I'm so sorry—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “I don't need you to apologize. Really. You don't have to. Because like I said, I was pissed…until I talked to Rachel again.”
“Rachel?”
“She told me what a fucking moron I was. Something she likes to remind me of often, by the way. She said you were clearly pushing me away because of what you were going through and that you definitely didn't mean anything you said.”
A tiny smile plays on her lips. “Well, I did mean some of it.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I know you did.”
“But not that really bad stuff.” She sniffles and clings to my shirt. “You have no idea how much it hurt for me to say those things to you. To push you away.”
“If it was anything like how much it hurt me to hear it, then I do.”
It had been an awful few days after, drowning my sorrows in booze and carbs and avoiding calls from a frantic Grant worried about our impending opening I didn’t give a fuck about anymore. All I wanted to do was cry and curse the woman who had broken me.
“But the kidney?”
“Well, Rachel being Rachel asked me what your blood type was. And when I told her, I practically went deaf with her screaming through the phone. Because it turns out all three of us are also O negative.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I never knew my own blood type. Probably pretty stupid on my part not to. But Rach knew from dealing with the hospitals when Mom and Dad were sick. Turns out they were both O, so we had to be. Anyway, once I knew I was the right blood type, it wasn't even a question I was going to find out if I could donate.”
Tears flow down her cheeks, and I reach out and brush them away with my thumbs. The last thing I ever want to see again is tears from this woman.
She hiccups through a sob. “But why didn't you tell me?”
I release a big sigh and prepare myself to say the words I’ve been holding in for weeks. “Because even though I believed what Rachel told me. Even though I wanted to believe you didn't mean what you said to me, even if you had meant every single word, it wouldn't have mattered. I would've donated anyway. Even if you never wanted to see me again, even if you thought I was the biggest asshole in the world.” I grin at her. “Which, deep down, I know you still do. It wouldn't have mattered.” It couldn’t have mattered. “I didn't want to tell you and have you feel obligated to be with me or forgive me the same way you didn't want me to feel obligated to stay with you.”
“Oh, Jameson.” She leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. This one is sweet and slow and full of all the love I feel for her reflected back at me. She pulls away slightly and brushes her fingertips over my heart. “I love you. I did even when I fucking hated you.”
I grin at her and squeeze her as tightly as I dare to not cause her or myself any discomfort. “Ditto.”
“But God…all of this is too much. My medical bills, the rent, and now a fucking kidney.”
It is a lot. But not really. Not when you love someone.
What I said was true. Once I knew it was a possibility that I could be the one to save Isabella’s life, nothing else mattered. The pain was irrelevant. The fact that FURY was going to have to be put on hold was pushed so far to the back of my mind that it wasn’t even a consideration.
My priorities changed so fast, it almost gave me whiplash.
I chuckle and press a playful kiss to her lips. “I guess you're going to have to think of something really big you can offer in return.”
She joins my laugh, the carefree humor on her face such a welcome change from the last time I saw her. “I guess so, but I'm not sure what I have to offer.”
“Oh, I have something in mind.”
IZZY
Given all the shocking information I'm trying to process at this moment and everything that is being revealed, Jameson having something in mind is a little disconcerting. The man is obviously insane.
“Should I be worried?”
He pulls away from me, grabs my hand, and drags me toward the wall that separates our two places. “Well, because of my surgery and recovery, we had to push back the opening date of FURY.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. “Oh, shit. I hadn't even thought of that. I'm so sorry. Grant must be pissed.”
Jameson chuckles and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Don't worry about Grant. Sylvie handled him. Anyway, I didn't want to interfere with your opening. So, we haven't picked a date yet. But…”
He glances at me, waiting to gauge my reaction, but I have no idea where he's going with this.
“But what?”
“But I'm wondering if we’re missing a huge opportunity here.”
“An opportunity for what?”
“We already share body parts. Maybe we should share a restaurant space.”
I practically choke on my own breath and turn to face him. “You're joking.”
He shrugs slightly. “I'm not. I've been thinking about it a lot. The two of us together would be unstoppable.”
Clearly insane.
What he’s suggesting makes absolutely no sense. None at all. From day one, the differences between us have been glaringly obvious. “But we have totally different styles. Totally different foods.” I motion around the restaurant. “Totally different décor.”
“You bring something incredible to the table I don’t have. Something you can offer that I’ve never been able to and probably never can.”
Absolutely nothing comes to mind. “What’s that?”
He presses his hand over my chest. “Heart.”
My tears blur the room around us, and I choke back a sob.
In the past, I’ve been accused of being overly emotional at times. Grams used to always say I wore my heart on my sleeve and that’s why I got hurt so easily. Maybe that’s true, or maybe I just had shitty luck with friends and in relationships. Either way, it always left me feeling like it was some sort of insult to think with my heart instead of my head.
But that single word from Jameson has changed my entire perspective on it. The way it hung on his lips, mixed with a hint of regret and longing for it.
“You have heart, too, Jameson.”
He shakes his head. “Not like you do.” His fingers curl slightly into my chest, emphasizing his point. “You have more heart than anyone I know, and you have your Grandmother’s recipes, which overflow with it. Can you imagine what I could do with them if I got my hands on them and what you could do with mine?”
I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him. “You think I’d let you mess with Grams’ recipes?”
He waggles his eyebrows right back at me. “I think we can mess with them together. It could be a fun idea. One new menu with two different dining experiences. Or maybe we keep our separate menus and offer two different options for people when they walk in the door. We can figure it out.” He shrugs and grins. “Maybe we call the place Grandma's Fury since she’d be so pissed about it.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat, and I drop my head back and release it into the space, ignoring the tiny pinch of pain it brings. “Shit. Grams would love that name. But I'm not so sure it's a good idea. Would we even have time to do something like that if you’ve already started plans for opening next Friday over here?”
He nods. “I talked to my contractor, and he assured me he could get all the approvals we need and an opening between our two spaces done in the next few days. Grant is willing to flat out purchase this building from the current owner to give us free rein with any changes and resolve any rent issues. And I ensured we both have full staffs. It would just be the question of the menus.” He narrows his eyes on me. “Which I don't particularly trust you to handle, so I’ll be taking any final ones to the printer.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough. What about Grant and Sylvie?”
“I bounced the idea off them, and they love it.”
I scowl at him. “I have a hard time believing Grant loves it.”
“After I told him how incredible your chili was and how much confidence I have in your ability, he came around to the idea. I also threatened to walk if he wouldn't at least consider it. And then when I explained that we wouldn't be a pigeonholed restaurant, and we could offer fine dining items as well as things that are a little more approachable for the neighborhood—people could come in with their kids or with clients—he came around.”
When he explains it that way, the idea does have promise. Though I never anticipated running a restaurant with a partner, there isn’t anyone I would want to do it more with than Jameson. Plus, we’d have Grant and Sylvie backing us.
“You really think we can pull it off in such a short amount of time, or would we have to push back the date?”
“As long as the inspector can get us approved, my contractor says he can get it done. And Grant can have the paperwork handled by his attorney the same day we decide on final terms for everything.” He looks around again. “We’ll be busting our asses the next two weeks, but I think we can do it. I think we should do it.”
“Wow.” I run a shaking hand back through my hair and glance around the restaurant I thought I was coming to say goodbye to. “This is definitely not how I had expected my day to go.”
“I bet not.”
“I'm just a little…overwhelmed right now.”
He grabs my shoulders, holding me steady in front of him and locking gazes. “You don't have to do everything by yourself anymore, Iz. You have me. You have Ashley. We have rich financial backers who have faith in both of us. There's no way we can fail.”
Oh, God, Grams would have a field day with this.
