Laura grinned and tilted her glass toward Amelia’s. “That’s my girl.”
FIVE
After practice Thursday, Flynn hustled out of the stadium and headed straight for the restaurant.
He wasn’t surprised at all that Ken and Amelia had everything in order. Staff was already there, tables had been moved, linens were spread out and the settings were in place.
He wasn’t a fancy kind of guy. If you came to his house to hang out or watch sports, he’d cook. He wouldn’t set out paper plates, but he sure as hell wouldn’t fuss, either.
But this was Ninety-Two. This was his dream come true, and it was important to him. Irvin Stokes, the team owner, would be here tonight, as would most of the members of the Sabers. These were his peers. His friends. Having tonight be a success meant something to him.
“Oh, you’re here, good,” Ken said, grasping the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him into the kitchen. “You have got to taste the stuff Amelia and her crew have cooked up. Though she’ll probably kick my butt for entering her territory.”
“Then why are we going into the kitchen?”
“Because the smells are delicious, I’m hungry and you’re the boss. She couldn’t possibly say no to you.”
Flynn cocked a brow. “Wanna bet?”
He’d been on the other side of Amelia’s temper before. She was an amazing cook, but she’d made it very clear before he hired her that in the kitchen, she was the boss.
So when he and Ken walked in, she pointed to the doorway as soon as she spotted them.
“Both of you—out—right now.”
“Oh, come on, Amelia,” Ken said. “Just a sample. You know how I feel about bacon.”
She gave Ken a firm shake of her head. “When they’re ready, you can have some. Until then, get out of my way.”
“I told you.” Flynn held open the door for Ken. After Ken turned to leave, Flynn looked at Amelia, who glared at them with her arms folded. She looked like a Viking warrior defending her castle. Tall, blond and imposing.
And a little bit hot. There was nothing like a woman taking total charge of her turf. And this kitchen was Amelia’s turf.
“You are so mean,” he said to her, but his lips quirked.
“Get out, Flynn,” she said, but her lips curved in a hint of a smile.
A sign that things were going well in the kitchen, which relieved some of his tension about the evening.
He went over the checklist with Ken, who had everything well in hand. Which was why he’d hired Ken in the first place.
“Your organizational skills are on point, as usual, Ken.” He handed the notebook back to the manager, who bustled off to attend to the staff, leaving Flynn with nothing to do.
If Amelia let him in her kitchen he could help her. But he knew better than to go in there again, so he did what he could to assist the staff with their final prep. Once they were finished, though, there was nothing to do but wait. Ken told the staff to take a break before the party started. And Flynn headed home to change clothes and pick up his date. By the time he got back, the team should be arriving.
He hoped like hell tonight went well.
* * *
The party had started and Amelia was pleased so far. The food was made and her staff had everything under control. The one thing she prided herself on was a well-run kitchen, and this one was.
She removed her apron and dashed into the restroom off the kitchen to check her appearance. She undid her ponytail and brushed her hair, applied some lip gloss and straightened her blouse, deciding it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a walk around the room to be sure the guests were enjoying the food. She knew how to do it surreptitiously, hanging back to be sure she wasn’t noticed.
When she stepped out, the first thing she noticed was how big all the guys were. Not surprising considering this was a football team. Not your average men. Plenty of women in attendance as well, which was a good thing.
She grabbed a glass of wine from the bar and wandered the room. Many people were holding a full plate, which was a good sign. As a chef, there was nothing worse than people ignoring your food. Her team was refilling the serving stations and people were still eating. She was satisfied that the food was good. She’d tasted everything and approved it. Still, it was satisfying to see people appreciating it.
She found a nice spot in a dark corner and sipped her wine.
“Are you hiding?”
A beautiful, blond-haired woman found her. She smiled at her. “No, just surveying.”
“Are you here with someone and avoiding them, or just avoiding the crowds in general? Because if it’s the latter, I can totally understand it. These things can be overwhelming. Football players are nothing if not loud and gregarious.”
Amelia laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Amelia Lawrence, head chef of Ninety-Two.”
The woman’s eyes sparked recognition. “Oh. I’m Tara Riley. It’s so nice to meet you, Amelia.”
“Thank you, Tara. Likewise. Are you here with someone?”
“Yes. I’m married to Mick Riley.”
Amelia nodded. “Quarterback of the Sabers. I know him well. I mean, I don’t know him at all. I’ve never met him, but I’m a huge fan of your husband—the entire team, actually. And now my tongue is falling all over itself. How embarrassing.”
Tara laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. Let’s sit down.” Tara motioned to the table in front of them.
Amelia gazed around the room. “I should get back to the kitchen.”