Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Apply the right amount of war paint and rehearse your safewords for Griffin and Tracy’s romance. They may start out as two chefs working awkwardly together, but they share a desire that soon brings them together, forcing them to address the tension between them.
I didn’t know why Griffin hated me so much, but it was wearing me down. I walked on eggshells around him at work, and I hated that I still wanted him. I saw him in my dreams, my fantasies, and…frankly, in some nightmares too. And then I freaking saw him at a munch, and I almost lost it. Just how much did we have in common?! Was there no way for us to coexist? My friend Abel firmly believed Griffin and I belonged together, but I didn’t know what that guy was smoking.
Something had to give, though—and that made me think of what my grandpa used to tell me as a kid. I’d been too young to wield an axe, so he’d chopped wood while I had walked along the tree line to collect kindling. Then when I came across a branch I couldn’t break, he’d say, “It’s just a matter of finding the right pressure point. You can do it, Tracy.”
Maybe that could be applied to Griffin too.
It was just a matter of finding the right pressure point.
This story takes place in Cara Dee’s Camassia Cove Universe, a fictional town where all books stand on their own, unless otherwise stated, and the reader can jump in wherever they want.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Griffin Lawson
It was strange, walking these cobblestone streets again after being away for a year. Not to mention ironic. Charlie and I had ultimately broken up because he wanted the city life, and I’d wanted to stay right here in my little town a couple hours north of Seattle. Then I’d left for Europe, staying in Barcelona, Milan, and Paris, overdosing on crowds and the metropolitan hustle and bustle, whereas Charlie had moved back home to his childhood town of Nowhere, Arkansas.
I’d deleted my Facebook after seeing his announcement.
Goddamn asshole.
I’d long since stopped moping over him; I was mostly bitter about having wasted three years on that relationship. Three years of empty promises and plans that’d never come to fruition. Three years of suppressing that niggling voice at the back of my head saying this wasn’t right. He wasn’t right for me. I’d tried to force a connection that’d never been there. That part was my fault. It was my fault for wanting something more substantial than a two-month fling.
Additionally, it was a bit of a midlife crisis too. At forty-five, I was supposed to have things settled, and now I had to start over. Only to set myself up for more failure and nights at the bottom of a bottle?
I wasn’t sure I could. I didn’t know if I had the energy.
I’d vowed to myself to get back to kink. That was all. Find a play partner or two, keep things casual on the romance front, something I was already an expert at—and instead invest more time in my family. I had a niece I adored. A brother and a sister. A handful of cousins with kids. My ma still ran her sandwich shop in Seattle. Maybe that was enough.
I drew a deep breath and rounded a corner, and then I saw Coho Bar & Grill, my destination for the day.
It would be nice to get back to work. This specific type of work, I should say. It wasn’t like I hadn’t worked my ass off in Europe.
Coho Bar & Grill was a not-so-hidden gem. Owned by Adam, an old buddy from culinary school, and his wife Alessia. Despite its remote location, people traveled from all over the country to eat Adam Grady’s creations. He’d settled down with his passion for steakhouse food after years of working in some of the best restaurants in the US. I’d traveled a similar path, only my passion lay with seafood, and I didn’t do brick-and-mortar. I’d gone the food truck franchise route instead.
But I still loved working in a proper kitchen, hence my return to Coho. It was a lot less pressure. With my own business, I had menus to set and quality-control meetings to attend. Here, I just followed orders and had a good time working with people I cared for.
It was the only place where I followed orders.
The restaurant wasn’t open today, so I knocked on the door, knowing they were around. I peered through the glass, and things looked the same. Exposed brick and weathered floorboards met a cozy setting of small tables, bistro lights and potted herbs in the ceiling, and tealight candles. Old mingled with new, from specials drawn on a chalkboard to the full menu available on iPads.
They had a kitchen in the back, but Adam and I cooked in the open section behind the bar, where flames licked the walls every night, except Mondays.
I knocked again, just as the door to the kitchen swung open, and I spotted Alessia coming out. She saw me and lit up, and she wasn’t alone. Shit, their boy was growing up. When I’d left, he’d been a baby. Now he was, what, nearing two? He bounced happily on his momma’s hip.
I smiled and let out a breath.
Alessia opened the door for me. “Hi! Welcome home, Chef!”
Fuck, that felt good to hear. Home.
“Thanks, hon.” I dipped down and kissed her cheek, and I gave her a quick hug. “It’s good to see you.” I shifted my attention to little Nicky and touched his chubby cheek. “You don’t remember me, but you threw up on my shoulder once.”
The boy babbled, and Alessia laughed softly.
“Make sure to stick around this time,” she chided jokingly. “Adam’s missed you.”
It was mutual. He and I worked great together.
“Same here,” I replied. “So catch me up.” I entered the restaurant and locked the door behind me. “How’s the family, how’s work, any changes in the staff?”
Technically, I knew business was good. Adam popped up here and there in magazines.
“Everything’s great,” she gushed. “We finally opened the dining area upstairs. It’s the same size as this one down here, and the rest of upstairs is reserved for cooking classes.”
Oh right, I remembered that. Which begged the question…
I cleared my throat. “Is Tracy still around?”
I prayed he wasn’t.