Come Away with Me: A Misfit Inn Short Story, page 1
COME AWAY WITH ME
A MISFIT INN SHORT STORY
KAIT NOLAN
Copyright © 2022 by Kait Nolan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Invite
Come Away With Me
Other Books By Kait Nolan
About Kait
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COME AWAY WITH ME
“To Moses Lindsey! Best interim sous pastry chef since… well, me.” With a grin, Tennille Sterling lifted their martini glass high. The frothy, orangey-pink liquid inside caught the light.
The man of the hour lifted his own glass to join in the toast with his coworkers from Délicieux. His pint of Deuchars IPA tasted as bittersweet as this last outing. Over the past couple of months, he’d grown attached to all of them. From Tennille, with their wicked sense of humor, spiked blonde hair, and unparalleled skill with caramel, to Antonia Hawthorne, who ran the front of the patisserie with flawless style and service from the wheelchair they all knew perfectly well was her throne, to shy Marcella Creevy, the intern from Manchester, who’d started right before he had and was only just now coming out of her shell.
And then there was her. Zuri Patil. Executive pastry chef and the genius behind Délicieux. Moses had been crushing on her professionally long before they ever met, being absolutely in awe of the confections that emerged from her Edinburgh kitchen. But working side-by-side with her, he’d gotten to know the woman herself. Warm and vivacious, she ran her patisserie like a family, and absolutely nothing could convince him that all that love wasn’t what made her pastries taste so damned good. She sparkled, and it showed in the depths of her espresso-colored eyes and the easy flash of her smile.
Was it any wonder he was half in love with her?
Not that he’d done anything about it. He’d known his time in Scotland was temporary. Just the latest stop in a once-in-a-lifetime, year-long trek around the world, studying with some of the best pastry chefs in the business. And even if it hadn’t been, she deserved better than the likes of him—an ex-con who’d learned the basis of his trade in a prison kitchen.
He’d come a long damned way from that guy, but he understood there were limits to how high he could rise. Because of the second chance he’d been given by Chef Athena Reynolds at her Michelin-starred restaurant, Olympus, in Chicago, he’d already done more and come further than he’d ever dreamed he could, and he was grateful for that every day. She’d become so much more than a boss over the years. She was one of his closest friends. But she’d moved on from Olympus and helped him arrange this tour of kitchens. The tour was coming to an end, so it was time for him to move on, too. Tomorrow. For tonight, he didn’t want to think about his impending flight back to the U.S. He just wanted to enjoy the company and soak up as much of Zuri’s warmth as he could before he returned to his pre-furnished flat for the last time.
Antonia set her empty glass on the table with a thunk and eyed the club. “I’m going back to the bar to convince that very fine lad in the leather vest he wants to buy me a drink. Does anybody need anything?”
“I’m good on libations, but I need to move,” Tennille declared. “C’mon, Marcella. We’re going to dance.” Without waiting for her acquiescence, they pulled her out onto the dance floor, leaving Moses alone with his boss.
Zuri wasn’t sparkling tonight. Those melted chocolate eyes seemed outright sad, which was a nice boost to his ego, even as he wanted to do what he could to make it better.
“You okay?”
She tapped a finger against the copper mug holding her Moscow Mule. “I am not. You’re going home, and I don’t know what we’re going to do without you.”
“We” not “I.” It was a good reminder that theirs was a professional friendship.
“Find another sous chef, I imagine. Délicieux was doing just fine before I stepped into your kitchen. It’ll do just fine without me.”
Zuri scowled, which wrinkled her adorable button nose and made her look like nothing so much as an angry Indian sprite. Did they even have something like sprites in Indian culture? Moses wasn’t sure.
“It won’t be the same. You’re different.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Special.”
Because his heart began to trip, Moses took another sip of his beer. She didn’t mean it like it sounded.
“You’re brilliant. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding someone else who wants to learn from you. I know this has been, by far, my most educational stop on this culinary tour.” And he’d take all those lessons home to his next posting. Whatever that might end up being.
She didn’t seem pleased with the compliment. “That’s not the point. They won’t have your sense of humor or your sense of calm. You showed up, and everything just clicked into place in the kitchen. I didn’t even know anything was missing until you did. And now… I just wish we had more time.”
But they were out of time. He wouldn’t be going back to the patisserie before his flight tomorrow. They only had tonight to say their goodbyes. And if a part of him wished that was somewhere other than a noisy pub in Cowgate, well, he wasn’t gonna go ruin two months of good behavior now.
Moses lifted his glass for another toast. “To an unforgettable experience and an equally unforgettable baker.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, Zuri clinked her drink to his. “Same.” She drained the last of the Moscow Mule and slapped the mug on the table. “Do you want to dance?”
He should say no. Dancing with her was just going to fuel fantasies about something he couldn’t have. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than rise and hold out his hand. The slim fingers that slid into his were cold. Moses fought the urge to warm them and instead led her out on the dance floor, using his bigger bulk to weave a path through the crowd. The song changed as they found an open spot, the up-tempo dance beats giving way to something slow and sensual.
Zuri didn’t balk, just moved into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Moses swallowed hard. They’d worked shoulder-to-shoulder often. He’d learned from her, talked to her, and laughed with her. But he’d never held her before. She topped out at his shoulder, so she had to tip her head back to look up at him. Those eyes snared him, and his fingers itched to comb through all that thick, black, curly hair she so rarely wore down. Instead, he held on, struggling to be respectful, while still painfully aware that she was a woman, with softness and curves in all the right places.
They swayed to the beat. Her mammoth sigh pressed her breasts against his chest, and Moses began to count backward from a thousand in increments of seven. If Zuri noticed she didn’t let on.
“I’m going to miss the hell out of you. You’ve really become a part of the shop and part of our team over the past couple of months.”
“I’m gonna miss y’all, too.” That truth was easy to admit. He’d loved every minute of his time at Délicieux.
A dimple fluttered in one cheek. “Everybody?”
“Sure. Everybody.” And in the false intimacy of the dance, he admitted, “Especially you.”
Relief and pleasure lit her gaze for an instant before hardening into something that looked a hell of a lot like resolve. The hand on his shoulder slid around to cup his nape, and she rose to her toes, pressing her lips to his in a soft, questioning kiss. Ignoring every alarm bell clanging in his brain, Moses curved around her, pulling her body flush to his. This was all they could have, but God, it was worth it to satisfy his curiosity. Angling his head, he answered by tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened for him. She tasted of ginger and lime and an indefinable sweetness that had to just be her. Complex and lovely, as all her confections were.
The moment and the kiss spun out until someone bumped into him, jostling him out of his stupor. Moses lifted his head, realizing the music had changed back to something fast and rowdy. They stood in the middle of the dance floor, breathing hard, staring at each other. Zuri’s lips were pink and a little swollen from his. Her fingers flexed at his nape before she slowly dropped back to her feet.
“I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but I had to know.”
“Know what?” His voice came out like gravel.
“If it would be as good as I imagined between us.”
Her answer didn’t matter, but he couldn’t resist asking the question. “And?”
Regret tinged the smile he loved. “Better.”
Moses indulged himself, skimming his fingers across her cheek and through that thick mass of silky hair, committing the textures to memory. “You’re amazing, and you deserve a lot better than me.”
A furrow dug in between her brows. She opened her mouth, clearly prepared to argue the point, but he stepped back.
“I think I should go.” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles. “Thank you for everything. I’ll never forget it. Or you.”
Trailing his thumb over her fingers one last time, he released her and walked away, regretting every step.
As the mirror glaze on h
The kitchen door swung open, and Antonia rolled in. “Okay, look, you’ve really got to do something about this.”
“About what?” In an ill-tempered huff, Zuri slid the entire cake into the bin.
Antonia just arched one perfectly tweezed auburn brow above her black-framed glasses. “Really?”
“What?” She didn’t need this. She had to start all over on this opera cake because she’d made careless mistakes. She never made careless mistakes. Or hadn’t before the last few weeks.
“You’re seriously going to deny that you still have a thing for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome who went home to the U.S. a month ago?”
Heat bloomed in Zuri’s cheeks. She’d said nothing to her staff about her interest in Moses. But as she’d known it would, the kitchen felt different without him in it. And she hated it. “What does Moses have to do with anything?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’ve been a bear since he left? And I don’t mean the adorable teddy kind.”
From her prep station, Marcella lifted her head. “We all miss him.”
Zuri lifted her hands and dropped them again in defeat. She had been in a shite mood since he’d walked away from her that last night. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she kissed him. Maybe that he’d be so overwhelmed by their chemistry that he couldn’t help but change his mind and all his plans and stay.
Of course, he hadn’t done that. And that’s what she got for waiting until the absolute last minute to do anything about the attraction that had simmered during their time together. But she’d been his boss. There were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.
And you didn’t ask him to stay.
That thought had haunted her every freaking night. But how could she ask that of him when he’d so quickly shut anything down? It was the nicest rejection she’d ever experienced. Damn him. Now he was gone, and she was afraid she couldn’t look at her beloved kitchen the same.
But her staff didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of that poor decision.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be brave,” Antonia insisted.
Before Zuri could ask what the hell Antonia thought she should do about it, the back door swung open and Tennille strode in. Excited energy practically crackled around them as they hung up their messenger bag and snagged their chef’s jacket off a peg on the wall.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Zuri observed.
“Did your date with that rugby player turn into a long weekend?” Antonia waggled her eyebrows.
Tennille clutched their chest in a mock swoon. “Yes. And it was glorious. But that’s not what has me excited.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense.” Marcella perched on a stool, assuming the position for the spilling of the tea.
Swinging toward Zuri, Tennille pressed their lips together, as if bracing themselves. “Darling, I’m going to need you to sit down.”
And Zuri knew. Her stomach pitched and everything in her revolted. She gripped a kitchen towel in both hands. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving, too.”
Tennille gently extracted the towel from her death grip and took her hands, tugging her into a hug. “You knew this was coming. That I’ve been interviewing. This is an opportunity for my own kitchen. Head pastry chef at a five-star hotel. It’s my dream.”
It was what Zuri had been training them for. But she hadn’t expected things to change this fast. “I know. God, I know. And of course you should take it. But I just—” She sniffed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, too.”
As one, her entire staff chorused, “You’re going to call him.”
Zuri gave Tennille the side eye. “You weren’t even here for that discussion.”
“I’m not blind. You’re utterly miserable without him. When I go, you’ll have a free position and the money to bring someone else in. I think you know very well who that should be.”
Her heart began to pound as she considered it. Her sous chef wasn’t wrong. Them leaving gave her staffing budget the latitude it hadn’t had. And bringing on another pastry chef as talented as the one she was losing could open up additional business opportunities. She could see how it might work. But would Moses be willing to come back? It was one thing to take a deliberate year off to travel and train. Would he want to pick up and leave everything he knew of his life in the States and truly move to Scotland?
“We haven’t even texted or emailed since he left.”
“And whose fault is that?” Antonia demanded.
Zuri opened her mouth and closed it again. She’d been waiting for him to contact her. Hoping for some sign that he missed her. But maybe he’d been waiting for the same. Or maybe he’d determined that cutting off contact entirely would be easier to handle than the reminders of what he clearly believed they couldn’t have.
“What would I even say?”
“‘Tennille got a new job. We miss you. Please come back to work with us and so I can jump your bones,’” Marcella declared.
Zuri’s mouth dropped open, and Tennille and Antonia all but brayed with laughter.
“Oh ho! Our shy girl isn’t so shy anymore. I approve.” Antonia rolled over and gave her a high five.
Marcella jerked her shoulders. “We were all thinking it. Especially since we all saw that kiss the night he left.”
Tennille nodded. “True story.”
Zuri’s mouth fell open. None of them had said a word about seeing the kiss. But she had chosen the middle of a crowded dance floor to do it, so what did she expect?
“Okay, okay, fine. But I can’t just dump that in a text.”
“Email. Phone call. Zoom. There are options. Just say you’ll do something. I’m begging you, Z.” Antonia folded her hands in supplication.
Zuri checked the clock and did some quick math. Nine in the morning in the States. Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up her phone and scrolled to a familiar contact. It rang twice before a distracted voice picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Zuri. I need a favor.”
Moses stepped through the automatic doors at the McGhee Tyson Airport in Knoxville, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden glare of the Southern sun. A piercing whistle drew his attention down the curb to a familiar figure with long brown hair and a mile-wide smile.
“You are a sight for sore eyes!” Chef Athena Reynolds Maxwell opened her arms wide.
Moses walked straight into them, giving her a big squeeze. “It’s good to see you, Chef.”
“Oh, come on now. We’re not in a kitchen, and you don’t work for me anymore.”
“Old habits.” He stepped back to take her in.
The soft, plaid flannel shirt was rolled to her elbows, and faded, well-worn jeans covered her long legs. The boots she wore looked comfortable and broken-in and were so far from how she’d dressed in Chicago, he almost laughed.
“Your Tennessee is showing.”
“As well it should. You forget, underneath all the training, I’m a farm girl at heart.”
“It looks good on you.” She was put together and comfortable in her skin in a way she hadn’t been all those years in Chicago.
“Let’s get your bag in the trunk and get out of here before somebody starts honking that I’m taking up space at the curb.”
She led him over to a massive SUV and popped the liftgate.
Moses stared. “You have a mom car now.”
“Necessary evil between the dogs and the kids. Gotta have room tote people and stuff.”
He loaded his carry-on and settled in the front passenger seat. “How are the boys?”
“Growing like weeds. Dylan’s already taller than me, and Jesse’s not far behind. They wanted to come with me to pick you up, but I wanted you all to myself, so Logan’s keeping them occupied on the farm.”
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