Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [36]
The boy, for he couldn’t have been much older than Jess, stood at rigid attention, mouth clamped shut like a private awaiting his drill sergeant’s orders. Miranda caught the wry twist to Adam’s mouth before he said gravely, “Oh, Rob, here, is a degree candidate at the Academy of Culinary Arts, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Chef!”
The shouted reply was less startling this time, but Miranda had to stifle a laugh at the mischief in Adam’s eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was laughing at Meeks’s overzealous adherence to Academy rules—and letting Miranda in on the joke. Maybe he was glad to see her, after all.
She gave Adam a tiny smile, testing the waters, and he let one corner of his mouth kick up, exposing that dimple in his cheek. “Rob,” he said. “Run down to the office and grab one of the extra white jackets hanging on the back of the door. Quick like a bunny, Rob.”
“Yes, Chef!” The boy appeared embarrassingly happy to be given the task; Miranda wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d licked Adam’s hand like a puppy as he passed by on his way downstairs.
“So here you are,” Adam said.
“Couldn’t stay away,” she returned, and caught herself up short. That sounded a little too flirtatious, under the circumstances.
The circumstances being that Adam hated her guts, and was probably cursing her presence in his kitchen at this very moment.
Only, he didn’t look too murderous right now. More contemplative than anything else.
“I meant what I said,” he told her, his face serious. “You’re in my kitchen, you’re cooking. There’s no room in here for anybody to be standing around with their thumb up their ass. You’re going to be on stocks and family meal with Rob. Rob’ll show you the ropes; just listen to him and don’t mess anything up or get in anyone’s way, and we’ll be okay. I’m going to be working the pass; I won’t have time to bail you out. Ditto everyone else. If you fuck up, you’re out of here, I don’t care what anyone says.”
“I understand.”
And she did. This was her chance to prove herself. She wouldn’t put it past him to defy his financial backer and cancel the whole deal if Miranda gave him the slightest excuse. He was obviously no more resigned to her presence in his kitchen than he had been three days ago at the Union Square Greenmarket.
Failure was simply unacceptable. She wouldn’t have it.
Adam must have read something of her determination in her stance or her face, because he gave her a sharp nod and strode back to the front of the kitchen where he’d spend the rest of the night expediting. Miranda had done her research; she knew what the head chef’s job was.
During actual service, the executive chef of a restaurant as large and ambitious as this one didn’t do much cooking. Instead, he was like the conductor of an orchestra—he called out the orders, kept the cooks at different stations moving and working toward the goal of having plates ready for each customer at a table simultaneously. He would inspect every piece of food before it went out, tasting for seasoning where possible, because it was his name and reputation on the line if something wasn’t prepared properly.
At least, that was the role a good head chef took in the kitchen. Miranda eagerly anticipated the opportunity to observe Adam Temple in action, in his element.
And speaking of eager anticipation . . . Rob Meeks, her guide for the evening, came panting up, red-faced and clutching a white jacket.
As soon as he saw that Adam was at the pass, his manner changed. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “Guess I shouldn’t have bothered to sprint on the stairs. I almost broke my neck. Here.”
He thrust the jacket at her. Miranda fumbled her way into it. She had to turn the sleeves back several times, and it engulfed her completely, but she still felt slightly less like a fish out of water with it on. It was like donning a costume for a play; she put it on and instantly felt more like a cook.
Interesting.
Wishing she could take notes, but not wanting to flout Adam’s “kitchen time is my time” edict quite this early in the game, Miranda turned to her companion with