In Good Company: Chapter 11

My stomach twists with nerves—and maybe my hunger—as I put the finishing touches on Cal’s lunch. His assistant told me, as a general rule of thumb, to prepare enough food for four people for lunches and dinners and two for breakfasts. If numbers change, I’ll be told the evening before or early the morning of.

This is the first official meal I’ve cooked for Cal. I want him to love it. I don’t want him to regret hiring me.

When I showed up this morning, I wasn’t expecting to find him home. And I certainly wasn’t expecting him to give me a tour of the house himself. I imagine he’s a very busy man. You don’t get to a place of power like him—and have so much money—without committing yourself to work. But he’d taken his time showing me every room.

It meant more than it should.

Cal’s house is breathtaking from the outside, but it’s even more incredible on the inside. It’s common knowledge that he’s a big deal. But to afford this home as a summer house…he’s beyond rich.

“It smells incredible in here,” a voice calls from somewhere in the house. I smile, recognizing the voice from the club. I’m busy drizzling the top of the salad with dressing when Jude strides into the kitchen. He wears a golf hat with the Pembroke logo on it and a green polo.

“I hope it tastes good,” I remark, using a napkin to wipe the edges of the plate clean.

Cal walks in right after him, the scowl on his face a stark difference from Jude’s wide grin. He’s wearing an all-black outfit, his blue eyes seeming even brighter as he stares at me from under the brim of his hat.

Jude rests his elbows on the counter, putting his focus solely on me. “I have no doubt whatever it is will be delicious. What’d you make me?” He lets out a yelp as Cal’s elbow finds his ribs.

“She didn’t make anything for you. She prepared lunch for me. You just happened to come over.” Cal’s voice is a little tight as he glares at his friend.

Jude doesn’t let Cal’s grumpiness deter him. He rolls his eyes in Cal’s direction before looking at me once again. “So what’d you make me, Lucy?”

This makes me laugh. I take a step back and wipe my hands on my apron. I cast one more look over the food before looking at the men standing across the counter from me. Spending more time with both of them is going to take some getting used to. Before I started working at Pembroke, I’d never really met anyone with extreme wealth and power. The club and working side jobs introduced me to this world of old money and deep pockets, but I’ve still never spent this amount of time with people who hold the power they do. I don’t even want to think about the net worth of the two men standing in front of me. They’re just two normal guys. One who I work for and one who it seems I’ll be cooking for a lot. They both just happen to have money…and both look like they walked out of a Polo Ralph Lauren catalogue.

I clap my hands together and shake my head to rid myself of the distracting thoughts, remembering that Jude had asked me a question. “I marinated chicken thighs all morning and then prepared them on the grill. For the sides, I made thick-cut french fries and a summer salad with fresh berries from the farm stand this morning.”

“That sounds amazing, and I’m starving,” Jude notes. He dramatically rubs at his stomach as if he’s actually been starved.

Cal aims a dirty look in Jude’s direction. “Why are you here again? Get your own private chef. You can afford one.”

Jude snickers. “Maybe I should reach out to your old one. I heard he suddenly has a ton of free time.”

The muscle along Cal’s jaw ticks angrily as he appears to grind his teeth. I stand by quietly, wondering what’s going on between the two of them.

Cal lets out a long sigh, staring at his friend for a few more seconds before looking back at me. His eyes soften ever so slightly. “This all looks—and smells—incredible. Thank you.”

The sincere way he says thank you makes me smile. “Just doing my job, boss.”

Jude whistles. “Boss. Way to butter him up before he eats his meal, Lucy. I knew I liked you.”

Cal rolls his eyes. “Do you really have to comment on every single thing?”

This makes Jude beam. He nods. “Yes. And it’s the reason you stick with me. I do most of the talking while you do the brooding.”

I can’t fight the giggle that escapes from my chest. I try to play it off with a cough, knowing it’s probably unprofessional for me to laugh at a joke that’s at my boss’s expense, but I can’t help it. Jude’s comment took me off guard.

I turn toward the oven range, trying to make it seem like I have to clean something up so I can attempt to wipe the smile from my face. It doesn’t work. I know I’ve been caught by the deep, rumbly growl that comes from Cal.

“Aw…look, Jude,” Cal declares, an unexpected teasing tone to his words. “Someone finally finds you funny.”

My stomach growls loudly at the different smells filling the kitchen, and I hope no one can hear it. I try to ignore my hunger and turn back around, only to find the biggest grin on Jude’s face. He reminds me of a golden retriever—goofy, loyal, and incredibly lovable.

“Lucy, I’m calling it now. We’re going to be best friends.”

I gesture to the plated food in front of us. “Try this and make sure you approve of my cooking first.” I look over at Cal, who, surprisingly, has the smallest whisper of a smile on his lips. “Then you can decide if I’ll take Cal’s spot as your best friend.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jude reaches across the counter and grabs one of the plates. I’d prepared enough food for four people but only plated enough for two. Jude and Cal had popped in earlier for a minute to grab drinks before going to the backyard to talk some kind of business. I didn’t know if anyone else was joining and didn’t want to plate food that wouldn’t get eaten.

I try to clear my throat over the sound of my stomach growling again. Going forward, I really need to be better about making sure I eat in between preparing meals. I got so busy getting familiar with the kitchen and preparing lunch that I completely forgot.

Jude is already seated in the kitchen nook taking his first bite while Cal just stands on the other side of the counter. He stares at the plate that’s left with a frown.

“Does the food not look good? I can prepare something else if⁠—”

Cal’s piercing blue eyes meet mine. “Where’s yours?”

I straighten my back as I look around for a moment, a little confused by his question. “Um…what?”

He sighs as he angrily folds his arms across his chest. The position brings way too much attention to his tan, defined forearms and the way his polo shirt fits his frame perfectly. “You didn’t make yourself a plate?” he pushes, his voice tight.

I shake my head. “No. I don’t typically eat the food I prepare. Sometimes my clients let me if there’s a lot of food left over and…” My words trail off when he rounds the counter and wraps his large fingers around my wrist.

“Come,” he demands, pulling me toward where Jude sits.

I try not to stumble over my feet as he leads us across the kitchen. “Cal,” I scold, trying to pull my arm free but failing. “What are you doing?”

He sets the plate down in the spot next to Jude. He thinks about it for a moment before sliding it to the other side of the table, away from where Jude sits. “Sit down and eat. Your stomach has been growling like a damn bear since we walked into the kitchen.”

My mouth falls open as I look at him in shock. “I made that plate for you, Cal. This is my job. I’m going to eat as soon as you both are d⁠—”

Air hisses through his teeth angrily as he loudly and dramatically pulls out the chair in front of the food. “Are we really going to argue about this? Eat. Now.”

“No.”

Jude chuckles through a mouthful of food. “Might as well just listen to him, Lucy.”

I know Jude’s right. It’s not like I’ve had the chance to get to know Cal really well, but the little I do know about him tells me there’s no way I’ll win this battle. Right now, I don’t care if he’ll win. I have to at least try to prove to him how crazy he sounds.

“You know you pay me to cook for you, right?” I throw out, trying to take a step back. His fingers gently tightening around my wrist reminds me that he’s still got a hold on me.

His eyes darken underneath his furrowed eyebrows. “I’m aware.”

Jude continues to shovel the food into his mouth, completely unbothered by the battle happening between Cal and me. I nod my head toward the plate. “Then it should be obvious that I made the food for you to eat, not me. Eat it.”

He smirks and lifts his chin before sticking his tongue out to wet his parted lips. “It’s kind of cute you’re still arguing with me when it’s useless. I’ll make myself a plate as soon as you do as you’re told and sit down and start eating.”

A choking sound comes from my throat. I shake my head, trying to rack my brain over whether he was this stubborn the few times I met him while dating Oliver. I think I was too busy doing whatever Oliver asked of me to pay much attention to Cal.

I stare at the stubborn man in front of me in disbelief, wondering if he was like this with his last chef. Maybe that’s why his last chef no longer works for him. “You making yourself a plate while I eat the one I prepared for you makes absolutely no sense,” I argue, my last-ditch effort to get him to see reason.

He drops my hand to pull out the chair in front of the plate even farther. His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the chair, giving away his frustration with me. “It doesn’t have to make sense to you,” he grits.

“This food is to die for, Lucy,” Jude interrupts, his demeanor still carefree despite the bickering happening between Cal and me. “Just listen to him. Sit down and eat this amazing food you made.”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes but finally concede. I angrily fall into the chair Cal had pulled out, keeping my mouth shut as he pushes me back toward the table.

I almost jump out of the chair I just sat down in when Cal’s hot breath tickles the back of my neck. I stare straight ahead as he lines his mouth up right next to my ear. “Careful,” he warns, his voice deep and throaty. “It might hurt my feelings that you listen to Jude and not me.”

I snort. “Some might wonder if you even have feelings.”

He laughs, his breath caressing the back of my neck in a way that sends tingles down my spine. “Everyone has feelings. I’m just good at hiding mine. Wasn’t it you who pointed out my cold demeanor might just be a front? Did you change your mind about me already?”

Before I can respond, he backs away, cold air hitting my back immediately. My cheeks feel warm as my eyes meet Jude’s. He stares at me from across the table with the biggest smile on his face. I’m starting to wonder if he’s ever not smiling.

“I thought we were best friends now?” I mumble, picking up my fork. My stomach growls again as I look at the plate of food that was supposed to be Cal’s but is now mine. “You were supposed to be on my side,” I finish.

Jude laughs. “Trust me. I’m absolutely Team Lucy. I was helping you by telling you to not waste your breath.”

I take a bite, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment because the chicken turned out perfectly. I quietly take a few more bites, not bothering to argue with either of them anymore. It’s my first day, and I’ve already learned my lesson.

Glimpsing over my shoulder, I find Cal making his own plate of food. It feels weird to sit here eating while he does it, but I don’t say anything. I know it’s no use. It doesn’t take him long to load up his plate and take a seat between Jude and me.

I watch him nervously as he takes his first bite. As if he can feel me watching him, his eyes find mine immediately. His chiseled jaw moves up and down as he finishes the bite.

My heart sinks when he sets down his fork, his eyes never leaving mine.

Does he hate it? Oh God, he hates it.

“Is it okay?” I muster up the courage to ask, forgetting all about my own plate.

It’s almost like he can read my mind because his gaze flickers to my plate before meeting my eyes once again. “The food is perfect—just like I knew it’d be.” He reaches across the space between us and taps his knuckles against the table by my plate. “Now, keep eating. And from here on out, when you prepare a plate for me or any of my guests, you will prepare one for yourself to eat too. Got it?”

I blink a few times, not knowing what to say. I have no idea why he’s so insistent on me eating. With this job, a normal eating schedule during a workday isn’t typical. You fit in snacks when you can. Never have I had a client insist I make myself a plate at the same time I make theirs.

But of course, Cal is different. I shouldn’t even bother trying to figure him out or understand his reason behind things.

He stares at me with a lifted brow. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know he’s waiting for me to agree with him before he eats anything else.

I let out a loud sigh that earns me the slightest of smirks from him. “Got it,” I mutter under my breath before stabbing a piece of spinach and strawberry with my fork and aggressively putting it into my mouth.

He chuckles, picking his own fork back up. “She does listen to me after all. Good girl.”