The Christmas Wedding Swap. Allyson Charles
sashayed into the kitchen. Okay, it was probably a normal walk, not a sashay, but pretty much any way she moved in those jeans was going to look sexy. And she wasn’t engaged. There was no way a woman with her own wedding to plan would agree to cater someone else’s, no matter how good a friend.
Luke drummed his feet against the floor. That opened up a whole bonanza of possibilities. He had a week to turn bag lady’s snark into something a lot sweeter. Pineville was suddenly looking anything but boring.
A shriek and a slew of heated Spanish came from the kitchen. An angry man yelled that he quit. A pan crashed into a sink, and a door slammed before the kitchen quieted. Aside from Sadie, who was chewing her lip like it was made out of chocolate, no one else seemed to take notice of the shouting in the kitchen. As kitchen fights went, it had been tame.
Allison stepped through the swing door, a towel wrapped tightly between her two hands. She shuffled over to her friend. “Uh, Sadie?” She cleared her throat. “We may have hit a little snag. Nothing that I can’t fix.” She was quick to add, “But a temporary problem.”
Rubbing her temples, Sadie closed her eyes and took deep breaths. After a couple of moments she clasped her hands in front of her and said, “Okay. What’s the problem?”
“Ramon just quit. He wasn’t going to be doing most of the cooking for your wedding reception—I am—but…”
“But without your head cook here, you’ll have to take over and won’t have time to cater my wedding.” Sadie nodded her head twice, as if answering a question only she could hear. “I should have listened to Colt. He wanted to fly to the Bahamas, get married on the beach, and have our honeymoon all together. One easy package. But I had to plan and organize this—”
Allison grabbed Sadie’s hands. “Everything will be fine. I promise. I’ll figure it out.” Her eyes told a different story. She was worried.
Luke glanced through the order window into the kitchen, pursing his lips. An idea formed. He had at least a week with nothing to do…
“Why’d he quit? Can you get him back?” A thread of desperation wound through Sadie’s words.
“No.” Allison’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “He got another job, and I guess decided to wait until the most inconvenient moment to walk out. He and I have had some fights before about his smoking. And it wasn’t cigarettes. He wasn’t a fan of my meddling.”
Luke stood. “I can help.” Both women turned to look at him, twin expressions of surprise crossing their faces. “I’ve got nothing to do for a couple days, so I can help in the kitchen, at least until you find a new cook.”
Allison rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got it covered.” She turned her back on him, dismissive.
His back tensed. Little Miss Bag Lady didn’t think he was good enough for a diner? “I can cook.” He put his hands on his hips. He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend his culinary chops or why he was determined to see that smile from the blonde again, the one she’d given him yesterday, the one that had been tentative, resolute, and hopeful, all at once. But he wanted it. And he did have a week with nothing else to do.
Actually, he had two months to waste, two months until the statute of limitations ran out on the breach-of-contract lawsuit a vendor was trying to nail him with. When he’d heard a process server was looking for him two days ago, he’d taken off on his motorcycle, determined to avoid the summons that had his name stamped across it. Two months was a long time to be away from his restaurant, but he had great managers and sous chefs who could follow his recipes to the last teaspoon. The drop off in business that might occur with his absence was a necessary gamble. If he got served and lost the lawsuit, his restaurant would be gone.
Maybe a road trip across America wasn’t the way to go. As a hideout, Pineville, Michigan, would be close to perfect. Who the hell would think to look for him here? The charm factor of the town had just doubled.
He stepped to Sadie’s side and reached a hand across the counter to his sexy bag lady. “Hi, I’m Luke.”
She sighed and took his hand. “Allison.” They stood there for a beat, hands and eyes locked. “And thanks for the offer, but I need someone with at least line-cook experience. Just because you can fry bacon for breakfast doesn’t mean you can cook in a diner.”
He tightened his smile and his hand. “I can cook more than bacon. You’re short a cook today. Let me fill in, and I’ll show you what I can do.” He’d cook the best damned food this greasy spoon had ever seen.
Tugging her hand from his, she rubbed her palm along the hip of her jeans. “I don’t—”
“That sounds like a great offer. Don’t you think, Allison?” Sadie turned wide, pleading eyes on her friend. “At least until you can find someone else.” Spinning her stool around, she gave him a grateful smile. “My wedding is on Christmas Eve, and it’s really too late for me to hire another caterer, so you are doing us a huge favor. Isn’t he, Allison?” Silent communication passed between the two women.
Allison took a deep breath, the white cotton of her shirt stretching across her generous breasts. “Yeah, yeah.” Shrugging, she lifted one side of her mouth, giving him half a smile. “Thanks for your offer. As long as you can follow my recipes and my orders, you’ve got yourself a job.”
The triumph of getting Allison to agree faded. What had he done? It had been a long time since he’d taken orders in a kitchen, and the thought made his eye twitch.
Allison leaned over the counter, and stared at his feet. Her shoulders sagged, and she muttered, “Crap,” under her breath.
Luke glanced down at his boots and back at Allison, for the first time wondering if maybe her quirkiness bordered more on crazy. And what did that make him? He had convinced the woman to hire him for a job he was supremely overqualified for and had at least the next week to look forward to taking orders from a ballbuster with a foot fixation. Not his smartest move. Being a competitive guy, he looked forward to making her eat her words about his abilities right after she ate his cooking. But that satisfaction was hardly worth working in a greasy spoon. He could only guess that the lack of sleep from months of worrying about his restaurant had clouded his judgment. Rocking back on his heels, he blew out a deep breath.
There was nothing for it. He’d made the offer. And truly had nothing better to do.
Luke Hamilton, voted one of the top ten chefs in America for two years’ running, was now a fry cook at a nothing diner sitting smack-dab in the middle of nowhere.
Chapter Three
Allison sat in a corner booth in The Pantry, feet up on the opposite bench. The lunch rush had ended, and she needed a break. Sipping a cup of coffee, she scrolled through her latest possible matches. Nothing interesting. Switching to another site, she scanned those prospects.
In a two-hour radius, there were about three thousand men of appropriate age looking for love. More, if you counted the prison population. Why was it she couldn’t find even one possibility who gave her a spark of excitement?
She sniffed. Allison didn’t think she was particularly picky when it came to men. She swiped right on everyone whose profile didn’t scream hookup. Slumping in her seat, she checked her text messages. There were six guys she’d given her number to, and the messages had been flying back and forth. But none of the men ever pulled the trigger and asked her out.
There was a new message from Joaquin, and Allison tried to muster the enthusiasm to respond.
Her coffee mug was taken from her hand. “Hey!” She glared at Luke. “Has no one ever taught you not to take caffeine away from a woman?”
Luke placed a new cup down, steam drifting off the brown brew, and slid it toward her. “Try this.”
Allison sniffed but couldn’t detect anything besides coffee. She inhaled deeply. Good coffee. A complex aroma with a slight floral note teased her nose and made her mouth