In Good Company: Chapter 14

The moment I open the back door to the house, I’m met with the sweet aroma of banana and something else.

“Good morning,” I call as I enter the kitchen, giving Lucy a genuine smile after not seeing her over the weekend. It was her first weekend off, and the house felt a little empty without her here.

She looks up from where she places a waffle on a plate. Her smile is warm and genuine. “Morning.”

“Have a good weekend?” I ask, fighting the urge to ask her everything she did.

She nods before turning around and grabbing a pan from the stove. “I did. What about you?”

I frown, wishing she’d give me more details. What did she do? Did she take time for herself and rest? Do something she enjoyed? Maybe even film some videos of herself cooking? I happened upon her Instagram account and her blog where she posts her recipes, but so far, I haven’t seen any videos from her.

Lucy looks up from where she scoops some kind of banana mixture on top of the waffles. Her eyes roam over me, reminding me that she asked me a question.

I clear my throat, stopping at the edge of the counter. “Yeah. It was a busy weekend. The Sinclairs hosted a dinner Saturday night. Their chef was talented but nowhere near as good as you.”

This earns me a smile as she moves to pour the banana mixture on the next plated waffle. “I do like the Sinclairs. They were always polite at the club. Great tippers.”

I round the counter and open the fridge, grabbing a glass water bottle from it and unscrewing the top. “Considering how hefty the membership and annual fees are for Pembroke, everyone should be good tippers.”

Lucy lets out a sarcastic laugh as she places the pan back on the stove. She wipes her hands on the apron she’s always wearing. “You’d be surprised. I’ve had some not even tip at all.”

I pull the water bottle from my lips before wiping them with the back of my hand. “Are you serious? Who?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not telling you. Charlotte calls them the wannabes. She secretly flips them off from the kitchen every time.”

This makes me laugh. “They deserve much more than that. I can’t imagine paying two hundred thousand dollars for a membership fee, and fifty thousand every year to stay a member, to not tip the staff at the club you so desperately want to be a part of.”

Lucy looks at me wide-eyed. She grabs the countertop to steady herself. “I’m sorry…it’s that much to be a member at Pembroke?”

I set the glass water bottle down on the counter. “I figured you’d know the cost since you worked there.”

“Nope. I knew it was expensive, but I didn’t realize it was that high.” Her eyes roam over my body for a moment. She stares like she’s looking at me through a whole new lens. “I knew you had money but didn’t realize it was that kind of money. That membership price is worth as much as my childhood home.” Her voice breaks at the end from shock.

“I haven’t tried to hide from you that I make a lot of money. Why do you think I was insistent on doubling whatever Thomas offered you? If I remember correctly, my exact words were, ‘I could more than afford to.’”

I don’t know how I feel about the uneasy way she looks at me. She stares at me like I’m a whole new, different person to her. I don’t like it. She just started to warm up to me.

I take a step closer to her, hoping to get her attention. “Lucy?” I say her name slowly. When she still stares at me with a lost look in her eyes, I reach out and grab her arm. “You okay?”

Finally, she snaps out of it. She blinks a few times before nodding her head. “Totally fine. Just having that kind of money is hard for me to process, so I spaced out a little. I grew up with kitchen-table bills, coupons, and only eating at restaurants where kids under ten ate for free. It’s just a little jarring to learn how differently other people live.”

My fingers twitch against her skin. I should probably let go, but I don’t want to. Maybe it wasn’t just her cooking or her presence I missed over the weekend…maybe I missed her.

A boss can miss his employee, I convince myself. It can be absolutely professional to have a personal connection with someone on your staff.

Totally.

“Now you understand why it infuriates me to know there are members at Pembroke not tipping. Every staff member should get tips.”

Lucy’s eyes focus on my grip on her arm. The moment her gaze lands on it, I pull away, realizing how unprofessional it was to keep hold of her far longer than necessary.

“Anyway,” Lucy begins, turning to face the stove. She stares at it, her body still.

“Anyway…” I finish, taking a step back. I lift the bottom of my shirt to my forehead, wiping off the dampness along my hairline from my morning run.

“What’s for breakfast this morning?”

Her shoulders loosen as her lips turn up in a smile. Her eyes rake over the plates lined up on the counter. “I made bananas Foster waffles.”

“Did Jude request these?” I ask with a laugh.

Her perfect, plump lips part as her hand flies to her chest. “And why would you think that?”

“Jude would do questionable things for waffles. He used to beg our cooks at boarding school to put them on the menu every week.”

“Did he?” She’s a terrible actress. It’s obvious Jude got to her. She made bananas Foster waffles for him.

I scoff as I shake my head at her. “I can’t believe you made waffles for Jude.”

“Did you say my name?” Jude asks, strolling in from the side entrance.

I point at my best friend. “Your pockets are almost as deep as mine. Get your own private chef, and stop telling mine what you want to eat.”

The asshole snickers. He ignores my comment and walks straight to Lucy. “Did you really make me waffles, Luce?”

“Luce?” I don’t even bother to hide the jealousy in my voice at the nickname. Are they really to the point of using nicknames?

Jude wiggles his eyebrows at me before reaching across the counter and swiping a piece of banana from on top of one of the waffles.

“Hey!” Lucy scolds, playfully slapping Jude’s hand. “That one’s now yours.”

“I wanted that one. It’s the biggest.” He winks at her, and shockingly, for the first time in my life, I consider hitting my best friend.

“What’s going on here?” I ask accusingly. My gaze travels between my best friend and my private chef.

“We’re about to eat breakfast,” Lucy points out, my jealous tone going right over her head.

“Yeah, Cal, we’re about to eat breakfast.” Jude looks me up and down with a lifted brow. “You sure you don’t want to shower before eating?”

And leave the two of them alone together? Hell no.

“The food’s already done. I’ll shower after.”

“Do you want whipped cream?” Lucy asks, her doe eyes focusing on me. The question is asked so innocently. I really don’t think she even notices that the thing between her and Jude is rubbing me the wrong way.

“Uh, sure,” I stammer.

She walks to the fridge and pulls out a bowl before setting it on the counter. No one talks as she grabs a spoon from the utensil drawer and scoops a large dollop of what must be homemade whipped cream onto the waffle.

“I’d love some too,” Jude pipes up.

I toss an angry look his way, only making him grin harder.

“Is that enough?” Lucy asks me, gesturing to the large clump of whipped cream sitting on top of my waffle.

While she waits for me to answer, she spoons the whipped cream onto Jude’s waffle and what must be hers.

“Shoot,” she hisses, accidentally bumping her elbow against a discarded pan. The movement makes the heaping dollop of whipped cream splatter.

“I’ll clean it up, I promise,” she assures me anxiously, even though most of it is already covering her fingers holding the spoon.

Before I can say anything, she lifts her hand to her mouth and sucks the whipped cream from her finger. It feels like the air is sucked from my lungs, and I can’t breathe as I watch her tongue peek out to lick more of the whipped cream off her hand.

A strangled noise comes from my throat.

Lucy’s eyes go wide as her eyes meet mine. Her hand immediately drops to her side. “Oh my God. That was so unprofessional. I’m sorry. I’ll wash my hands.”

She steps closer to me to reach the sink.

I can’t move.

I’m replaying the image of her pink tongue flattening against her skin and lapping up the whipped cream.

My body heats. My pulse spikes.

And what’s highly unprofessional are the thoughts running through my head.

Her tongue.

My body.

My tongue.

Her body.

“Say something,” Lucy pleads, finishing washing her hands and wiping them on her apron. It’s obvious she’s taken my silence as anger when it’s the opposite.

I’m having very dirty thoughts about a woman on my payroll. A woman who’s also my brother’s ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, Cal, say something,” Jude chimes in from the kitchen table. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d already taken his breakfast to the table and was busy shoveling it into his mouth.

Instead of saying anything, I turn on my heel and rush out of the kitchen like a bat out of hell.

I need a cold shower. Immediately.