Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [128]
“And better than ever,” Frankie shouted back.
“Hells yeah,” Milo said, bouncing over like a short, Italian Tigger. “You’re working the bad-boy action now, man, you’ve got a scar to back it up.”
Quentin followed more sedately, his teeth shockingly white in his dark, handsome face. “Chicks dig scars,” he said in his slow, deep voice.
“He ought to know.” Milo laughed. “He scores more than any of us. Apparently, chicks dig the strong, silent type, too.”
“That lets you out then, Milo,” Violet said, joining the throng. Happiness like Adam hadn’t seen for days was clear on her round face.
“All right, all right,” he jumped in, forestalling Milo’s heated defense. Billy Perez and Wes Murphy came up the stairs, their conversation halted by the sight of the knot of jubilant cooks surrounding Frankie.
“Gang’s all here,” Adam said. “We’re stoked to have Frankie back, but we still have a restaurant to open in, hmmm, less than two hours. So get to work. Wes, come talk to me a minute.”
Looking wary, the new guy approached while everyone else scattered slowly to their corners of the kitchen. The vibe was better than it had been in days, not completely back, but they’d get there.
Adam was painfully aware that the rest of it was his own fault. The kitchen would stay noticeably out of whack until he could figure some way to get over Miranda.
Shaking himself out of it, he said, “Wes, now that Frankie’s back—”
“I know, I know,” Wes interrupted. “I’m off the grill. Where do you want me?”
Adam paused. There wasn’t nearly as much of the long-suffering martyr about the guy as he’d expected.
“I want to be clear,” Adam said, “you saved my ass last week. Seriously, man, I don’t know how we woulda gotten along without you. I’d have had to run a station and the hot plate, both, which might have killed me. You did good on meats, really good.”
“But Frankie’s better,” Wes said simply, his hazel eyes steady on Adam’s face. “For the moment.”
There it was, that arrogance Adam had come to associate with their extern. But it was arrogance that Wes backed up with a shitload of talent and an unswerving dedication to being the best.
“Best way to improve is to watch Frankie work the grill.”
Wes lit up like a power burner. “You mean it? That would rock. I know I could be faster, more precise with the meat temperatures.”
“Frankie’s a good teacher, when he’s not goofing off.” Adam yelled that last part, catching Frankie out of the corner of his eye involved in what looked like a pitched battle with Milo, using wooden spoons as weapons.
Lowering his voice amid the giggles as Frankie and Milo got back to work, Adam added, “And it would really help me out if you could keep an eye on Frankie tonight.”
“Is he still in pain?”
Adam shrugged. “Probably, but you’ll never get a straight answer out of him about it. Which is why I need a pair of eyes on him. Let me know if he starts to flag, if you can tell his shoulder is bothering him, whatever.”
“I can do that,” Wes said. He glanced up at Adam, then down at his own black kitchen clogs. “Look. I know I come across kind of strong sometimes. But I wanted this externship. Nobody will work harder for you, because nobody wants to learn as badly as I do.”
Adam saw the stubborn flame of ambition in the kid’s eyes, but he also saw the hidden, flickering hope he’d seen in so many others who’d passed through the kitchens he’d worked in. Hope for friends, an extended family of sorts, people to accept him for who he was.
The combination of desires was invaluable, would bind this kid to Adam for life if he could provide both the opportunity for greatness and a family to cheer him on.
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” Adam told Wes. “I’ve watched you work; we both know you’re good. But I also watched you stand with us a week ago, and I watched you pitch in and do what needed to be done by helping Grant get the customers out. Point is, Wes, I see you. And there’s a place here for you beyond the externship, if you want it.”
Wes simply nodded. But Adam read the sheer relief in him as easily as reading a recipe.