Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“What would you know about it?” Miss Stiles yelled in outrage. “I’ve been cooking since before you were born and—”
“I trained at the Culinary Institute of America and spent a year at Cordon Bleu in Paris, not to mention cooking my way through some of the best kitchens in Europe and the States. Where did you learn to cook? A roadside diner?”
Savannah, Miss Stiles, and I stared at Finn, all three of us stunned silent.
Finn was a trained chef? And not just trained, but based on the shock on Miss Stiles face, a very well-trained chef. How did we not know that? And if he was, then why did we need a cook? It’s not like he was working.
Savannah narrowed her eyes on Finn. “If that’s all true, then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Asheville? Or working at the Inn with your brothers?”
“I’m here because I have to be. The second I get my money, I’m using it to open my own restaurant. In the meantime, I have to live in this house, but I don’t have to suffer through her mediocre meals.”
Miss Stiles shrieked and threw her syrup coated spoon at Finn’s head. She stormed out, shouting over her shoulder, “I quit, Savannah. I don’t have to work under these conditions.”
Savannah turned furious eyes to Finn, covering a smirk at the sight of the wooden spoon stuck to his thick, dark hair. Maybe Finn had a point. There was an awful lot of syrup on that spoon. Still, we needed a cook, and unless Finn wanted to do it—
“Do you want to take over her job?” Savannah asked with deadly sweetness, already knowing Finn’s answer.
“Hell, no. Do I look like a private chef? It’s bad enough I have to be here in the first place.”
“You don’t have to be here at all,” Savannah pointed out, stabbing her finger through the air at him. “You’re only here because you want the money your father left you. Don’t pretend you’re better than everybody else. You’re just hanging around waiting for your payday, thinking you’re too good to work like the rest of us. You haven’t changed since high school, Finn Sawyer. You were an arrogant snot then, and you’re even worse now.”
“Savannah—” Finn protested, taken aback. He tugged the spoon from his hair and held out his hand, but Savannah pushed past him.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said, “I’m going to go find Miss Stiles and beg her to reconsider. If she quits, you’re in the kitchen until I replace her. And if she doesn’t quit you’re banned from the kitchens and storerooms permanently.”
She stormed out, leaving Finn staring at her retreating back with a bemused smile on his face. Looking at me, he shrugged a shoulder. “She’s right,” he said conversationally, “I was an arrogant snot in high school. But she’s wrong. Now I’m only an arrogant snot in the kitchen. If I cooked for you, you’d know why.”
I watched him stroll out and crossed my fingers in the hopes that we’d still have a cook when Savannah was done working her magic. That had been an interesting little byplay. I had to tell Griffen, but first I had to find him.
It didn’t take that long. I heard the clang of weights in the gym and opened the door to see Griffen on his back on an exercise bench, a loaded metal bar above him. Sweat gleamed on his smooth skin, his muscles corded and bunched with the effort of lifting the heavily-weighted bar.
He was ridiculously, seriously hot. Looking over and seeing me, he shot me a grin that sent my temperature skyrocketing. My head felt light as I crossed the padded floor to his side. Maybe it was the heat in the room, but I was pretty sure it was all Griffen. His sweaty skin, those muscles, that mischievous grin…
He racked the weights and peeled himself off the bench, holding me off with one hand. “I’m sweaty, Buttercup.”
“I like you sweaty,” I said, my head buzzing as he leaned in to press my lips against his. Everything went gray for a second, and I stumbled against him.
Griffen’s arm caught me and he pulled me close, kissing me again, murmuring against my lips, my cheek, “You okay baby? Did you get dizzy?”
I straightened, taking a deep breath and liking the salty scent of Griffen more than the musty smell of the basement gym. “I don’t know, I think it was just hot in here. Maybe I didn’t eat enough lunch. My stomach was off. I’m okay now. It’s snowing and I was ready for a break, then I couldn’t find you. And on the way here I found out something funny. Well, maybe not funny, I guess we’ll see.”
Griffen grabbed a towel and wiped off his face and chest. “You sure you’re okay?”