of electricity running through me. Something like excitement.
For months, I’ve tried to ignore thoughts of Lilly. It’s been no goddamned use. These Madison girls are intent on haunting me one way or another. But now, I know what needs to be done. I let out a long breath of air as I stand up, feeling a weight lifted off of my shoulders. It’s time. I know what I want. And I’m determined to get it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lilly
I’m still pinching myself. When the call came in, I was totally and unequivocally shocked, bowled over and slack jawed. For a while I was even convinced it was some kind of weird prank. But who would pull such a nasty trick? Then, when the voice on the other end of the line mentioned that Jacques of La Petite Coquette had referred me, I put the pieces together. This was really happening!
“So tell me more about this gig. You’re actually going to be cooking in a real restaurant kitchen?” Deanna asks. She’s sitting on my bed, painting her toenails, and watching me pack my suitcase.
“Not just cooking. I’ll be the head chef.” I concentrate on folding the stack of t-shirts in front of me, avoiding Deanna’s eyes.
“But what does that even mean?” Deanna presses me. I’ve been so nervous about this opportunity since I got the call a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tightlipped about it. I didn’t want to tell everyone how big this could be for me—potentially—and then be embarrassed if it didn’t work out and I had to come back home. I’ve just been telling people that I’m going to see about a job offer. The whole thing seems a bit unreal so I really need to manage my expectations.
“Well, I basically control the entire restaurant.” I try to keep my voice confident. “I can plan the menus, coordinate with suppliers, hire people.”
“And fire them,” Deanna cuts in, raising her eyebrows.
“Ugh, I hadn’t thought of that.” My stomach twists again at the thought. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone,” I say, feeling myself frown—I have to consciously make the effort to wipe the look from my face. I’ve been keeping my fears to myself since I accepted the job offer, but if there’s anybody I can vent to, it’s Deanna.
“You won’t! You can totally do this. You did that cooking degree at the community college. Plus on top of that, you have the business skills thanks to that distance learning degree you did.”
“I know, but school is one thing…actually doing it is another.”
“You’ll be great.” Deanna looks down and furrows her brow, concentrating on her DIY pedicure. “Don't stress yourself. Sure, this Jacques guy knows you through a personal connection. A very personal connection,” she grins, Deanna never misses the opportunity for a joke about David, “but he wouldn’t have recommended you for the job if he didn’t think you could do it. It’s his reputation on the line too.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I mean, he’s seen me in the kitchen. He’s reviewed my book and even tried a few things. He knows what I’m capable of.” And he believes in me, I remind myself silently.
“Well, this guy Jacques is a pro. Clearly the dude who offered you the job trusts him. You just need to trust yourself.
The “dude” that Deanna is referring to is Gerald Mayes, the owner of Ruby Restaurant in the Casino Diamond. It’s a premiere property on the Vegas strip. And I’ll be working there, as of Monday, taking over the role of head chef.
“I definitely owe Jacques big. This job is going to change my life.” I’d already phoned Jacques to thank him personally for his recommendation. Although I didn’t have his number, I’d managed to reach him by calling La Petite Coquette at the Fortuna directly. I smile, remembering how pleased he’d been to hear from me.
“I still think Mr. Millionaire must have had a hand in all of this too,” Deanna surveys her toenails, “not just the French cook.”
“Chef,” I correct her absentmindedly. “I mean, yeah, I assume David pulled some strings.” My voice trails off. “I did try to thank him.”
“You said you sent flowers. What did you send?”
I pause, feeling my face color. “Lilies,” I admit, sheepishly.
Deanna greets my admission with a yelp of laughter. “I knew it. You’re too cute.”
“Well, apparently he didn’t think so.”
“Maybe flowers just aren’t a guy thing. Like, what dude expects to get a bouquet? Especially an alpha dog like Mr. Millionaire.”
I can’t help but giggle. “He’s not