Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,68
We’d gone from sex, to sex with dating, to sex with love. Someone had to know, right? I felt like it was radiating out of me like the neon lights in Vegas.
Middle school had been less awkward than I felt at the restaurant since Sean and I had started dating. If I suddenly sprouted acne I was really going to get pissed.
“Will you relax?” Sean said, bending down to try to kiss me.
I pulled away. “We’re surrounded by people in the food industry!”
“Being a dirty little secret is more fun in theory than actuality,” he said. “This really isn’t enjoyable. I want a kiss.”
That made me roll my eyes. “No pouting.”
“I don’t pout. I’m not seven.”
“You act like it sometimes.”
“And you’re stubborn.” Sean nudged my shoulder. “And very sexy, beautiful, and intelligent.”
“Go on,” I said, because I was willing to be appeased with compliments.
Glancing around, I tried to get the lay of the land. There were fifteen restaurants in the competition and it was bustling. The weather had cooperated and the sun was shining, the temperature a pleasant sixty-five degrees, no rain in the forecast. Perfect for working outside overnight.
I was on edge though. I wanted to win. I wanted to prove myself, that I deserved not just to be sous chef, but to eventually be an executive chef.
Yet my emotions were all muddled because of my relationship with Sean.
“I’ll write you a list of compliments later. Can we just come clean with everyone?” he asked for about the fifth time. “Let’s just tell Sid and Nico and get it over with. Then we don’t have to pretend like we’re not together and I can inappropriately touch you at work without anyone thinking it’s harassment.”
I adjusted my shoulder bag. “That must have sounded better in your head than it did out loud because that was not romantic. Just an FYI. And no, you know we can’t tell anyone. One, or both of us, will get fired.”
The refrain felt tired and Sean clearly thought so do. “What are we supposed to do? Pretend for the rest of our lives?”
Did it make me feel giddy and squealy inside to hear him imply we were in this for the long haul? Yes. Did that make me want to confess to everyone? No.
“We have to keep our mouths shut until you’re ready to leave and open Sadie’s.” That was our best option, in my opinion, but Sean wasn’t on board with it.
He shook his head. “That’s going to be in two years, Isla. Two years. That’s insane.”
“I know, but neither one of us wants to be out of a job.” The thought of having everyone know I was dating Sean gave me a pit in my stomach. Not only did I not want to be fired, I didn’t want to be the woman who dated her boss. I had worked too hard to be labeled as Chef’s girlfriend.
Besides, if we told everyone we were dating and then it didn’t work out, what would they think of me? I hated that my thoughts went there, but they did.
“Are you one hundred percent certain they would even care?” Sean asked, sounding frustrated. “They might not.”
I was pretty damn certain they would. “When Courtney the bartender started making googly eyes at the former executive chef, I believe Nico’s exact words were ‘get naked with him and you’re fired.’”
Sean’s hand was on the small of my back as I walked in front of him. I walked faster, stressed about everything and baffled that he wasn’t even close to being as stressed about it as I was.
Of course, that was totally selfish. I mentally shook my head at myself. It was a good thing we weren’t both freaking out. That would be a disaster.
“Maybe that was because Courtney is married,” he said.
“She wasn’t at the time.” I glanced back at Sean. “By the way, before we run into anyone, I met with Martin. You were right. It was pointless. He was a douche-face and accused me of sleeping with you.”
“You are sleeping with me,” Sean said, giving me a casual smile.
Why did it feel like he was deliberately misunderstanding me today? Or maybe it was me. I felt on edge about the competition, I felt on edge about someone finding out about us. I felt on edge about what it felt to love someone and be this vulnerable. Afraid to lose it all.
My job, my future. Him.
“Well, yes, I am. But not to get ahead, like he suggested,” I