like he’d already known it would fail. I was the only one who had gotten wet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just my knee that was damp. What the hell was it about him that turned me on?
I hated it. I hated him.
“I did not want you to kiss me.” It might have been the biggest lie I’d told since claiming I was sneaking back into our apartment at fifteen years old at six in the morning to pick up my forgotten homework and I hadn’t wanted to disturb my grandfather. The look he’d given me could have peeled paint. He’d known I’d been out all night. Just like Sean knew I had kissed him willingly.
“My mistake.” Sean handed me a napkin.
I took it and blotted the knee of my jeans. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. He had asked how we moved forward and I had been unable to resist the urge to bring up the stupid kiss. It had been bugging me that he seemed perfectly content to pretend it had never happened. It was a personality flaw. I was notorious for asking questions when there was no possible way I was going to like the answer.
“As long as you respect me as a professional and peer, we’ll be fine in the kitchen,” I said, answering his previous question a little after the fact.
He glanced down at my empty glass. “Professional. Sure.”
For a second I was speechless, which was unprecedented. Then I opened my mouth to say who the hell even knew what, but it was going to be scathing, when both of our phones buzzed simultaneously.
It was Nico texting me.
Are you sure you want to quit? I’ll give you one shot at taking it back.
My stomach clenched and my throat tightened up. I hadn’t quit. Had Martin told him that I was quitting too?
Then I realized my text bubble sitting above his words said quite clearly, “I quit.”
Oh. My. God. Somehow the text I had typed at Savannah’s just to get my emotions out had been sent. I had never intended to send that. I’d actually thought I’d deleted it.
But right after that I had handed my phone to Sully. Oh, help, a baby had texted my boss telling him I quit. Shit, shit, and shit.
“You’re quitting?” Sean asked, and damn if he didn’t sound happy about that.
“What?” My heart rate was shooting up as I contemplated how to respond to Nico. “No. I’m not quitting. I told you that.”
“Then why is Nico saying you are?” He held his phone up.
“It’s a misunderstanding.” I typed fast.
No, I don’t want to quit. I didn’t mean to send that to you.
It sounded ridiculous but it wasn’t like I could claim the text was meant for someone else. It wasn’t a phrase you tossed at many people in your life.
Are you sure? Because Martin just quit too and if you want out, do it now. I’ll be pissed if you come at me two weeks from now saying you’re out.
I swallowed hard.
No. I don’t want to quit.
Good. No bullshit.
Nope. No bullshit.
I took a deep breath and raised my hand, needing the bartender to replace the drink I’d tried to throw at Sean. I needed a sip to steady my nerves. That had been close.
“Tell Nico you’re with me and I’m insisting I don’t want to quit,” I told Sean.
“What?” he asked, clearly distracted. He was still studying his phone. Finally, he looked up. “Oh, sure. Tell Nico you don’t want to quit. I can do that.”
I frowned, just a little. I was about to answer when I got a response from Nico.
If Chef Kincaid quits, it's on you, Isla. He quits, you’re fired.
Holy shit, was he serious?
Everything about this week was just a dumpster fire. It was tempting to argue with Nico, but I had already accidentally texted him (I couldn’t blame the baby, as much as I wanted to), so I had to just suck it up and comply.
Complying doesn’t come naturally to me.
I swallowed my pride.
Got it. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.
The bartender brought my fresh drink and I took a larger sip than was wise. For a minute both Sean and I sat there in silence.
Then he cleared his throat. “Tell me about the rest of the staff. I’m sure you know them better than Nico and Sid. Then I should probably head out, I have plans later.”
A date? Not that I cared. Much. “I do know the staff really well.” I gave him the lowdown,