And if that’s what the super-secret special event is, then that means that the guy I just hooked up is probably a Covington. Holy shit. I feel my cheeks heat when I remember the crack about Scrooge McDuck. Oh yeah, and I nicknamed him Jellybean. I fight a wave of nausea as the realization of it all washes over me.
How was I supposed to know he was a Covington? I thought he was just like every other semi-rich trust fund guy that comes through here on a regular basis. In my defense, we get a lot of them.
I decide to continue with my inner freak-out while Ralph rambles on and on about instructions for new French recipes, slightly altered dinner hours, and increased security at the resort.
Then I remember the negotiation in the bathroom of his suite this morning. Fuck. Am I really fake engaged to a Covington? I gave him a bunch of shit about it too.
That being said, I don’t have regrets about our night together. He’s hot as hell and great in the sack and exactly what I needed.
Well, until I tried to sneak out. Except for all of that. This was not what I signed up for at all. There wasn’t a clean break for me, just an insane verbal proposal in a resort bathroom after a one-night stand.
What if I spend the whole weekend pulling his ass out of the fire and he just walks away without holding up his end of the bargain?
In the end, it would be my word against his. And the dozens of lawyers that he could afford to hire. I would be screwed. No way they’d believe me. How could I have been so stupid and naïve?
The whole situation makes me want to break into hysterical laughter, but I choke it down and try to concentrate. Breathe, Kaylee. In and out. In and out.
That’s when I realize everybody is looking at me. What now?
Ralph’s eyes are locked onto mine. “Got something to add, Kaylee?” he asks.
I shake my head violently. “Nope.”
“Okay then,” he says, his voice booming across the massive room. “Ken and Lisa, you take point on the new recipes, the rest of you look alive and stay on your feet.” There was a pause. “And Kaylee, we better double the dessert prep. I hear these billionaires have a sweet tooth.”
Yeah, yeah. As usual, it’s Kaylee the afterthought. Being a pastry chef, even at one of the best restaurants at one of the most exclusive resorts in the country, still feels like being at the kids table. I sigh and trudge to my kitchen. Luckily, having my own space is one of the few perks I have.
It sure beats bumping into fellow chefs every five minutes or having to slalom my way from one end of a busy kitchen to the other.
I am especially thankful for the solitude today. I have a lot to process and I might as well do it while making delicious pastries.
There’s plenty of time before the lunch rush. And since people don’t usually eat desert for breakfast, I have several hours to prepare. I dive in, throwing myself into my work.
The whole time, I’m thinking about Jellybean. The conversation this morning was so rushed that when I agreed to be his fake fiancé, I didn’t even ask what that meant exactly.
A dinner here, a walk on the beach there, meeting his parents? Or his real name. You could have asked for his real name, Kaylee. The only thing I know for sure is that I am unprepared.
As I begin to process everything, it seems so unreal and unlikely that I start wondering if I dreamed the whole thing. It’s really nice to daydream about opening up my own shop. Maybe that will happen. If any of the events of this morning turn out to be true and I’m not actually losing my mind.
I finish putting a chocolate glaze over some eclairs and then head to the freezer to get more frosting. I nearly run over Vivian in the process. I turn the corner right into her, colliding chest to chest with a woman I am already trying to avoid. What are the odds? We bounce off of each other, and her face looks just as surprised as mine to find me here.
I’m here every morning. This is my space. The question is what the hell is she doing here? This is my turf, it’s supposed to be my quiet corner of the kitchen. Twice in one day running into the resort’s biggest gossip seems to be too much of a coincidence. “Vivian,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of looking annoyed, Vivian’s face bursts into excited glee when she sees me. Oh, this is not going to be good at all.
“Kaylee,” she says, breathless. Then she stops to take a few breaths.
I wait, arms crossed.
“There’s a guy in the hallway outside of the Bakery asking for you. Right now. I think he’s one of those Covingtons.”
At the mention of the word Covington, her eyes get two times larger than normal. It’s disturbing. “Did I mention he asked for you by name?” She raises an eyebrow at me, like that’s going to make me tell her everything.
Back off, lady. You don’t know me like that. “No,” I answer sarcastically, “you didn’t mention that part.”
My first thought is so what if he asked for me by name, what business is it of yours? But my second thought is I can’t give any more ammunition to the resort rumor mill.
This is the perfect opportunity to calmly stop her in her tracks. I lean in closer to her, as if we’re sharing a secret. “Vivian. My name is on the directory as the head of
