Episode 12: Sour Apple
“I like wine and cocktails,” Sugar answered.
“Then I’ll get you somethin’ more to your likin’,” Chef said, putting a rumbly emphasis on the last word that made her knees weak. He reached down to retrieve her half-empty mug.
She quickly shook her head and grabbed the cup’s other side, but his strong grip wouldn’t release the handle.
“That’s quite alright,” she insisted, giving a little tug for him to let it go.
“I insist,” he replied, his grasp still firm.
Georgette gently plucked her daughter’s hand from the mug and chuckled embarrassedly. “My daughter tends to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’ll gladly try whatever you have in mind.”
“Excuse me while I go whip up somethin’ special for our Magnolia,” Chef said before sauntering off.
Sugar couldn’t help but watch him as he walked away. He wore a short-sleeved plaid button-down shirt—tucked into his dark jeans—that did his muscular, tattooed arms great justice. His shoulders were broad and strong, with a military tattoo inked on the nape of his neck. Her eyes trailed down to his rear end, and she bit her lower lip as she accidentally admired it.
“Magnolia,” Georgette hissed in a whisper.
Sugar jerked her attention back to her mother, startled.
“What in the world is your problem? Where are your manners? I know I taught you better than that,” her mother demanded, to which Sugar blinked, feigning innocence.
“He wouldn’t let the mug go,” Sugar answered defensively.
Georgette crossed her arms. “He was trying to make a friendly gesture, but you were being extraordinarily rude. And don’t think I didn’t notice you ignoring him earlier.”
“I like him. Your father likes him. We both like coming here, and we want to keep coming here. You will not disrespect that man in his own restaurant, especially when the drinks and food are on the house, and he’s been nothing but kind.” Her mother jabbed a thumb toward the bar where Chef was working. “Go apologize now, Sugar Magnolia.”
Sugar clenched her jaw and slipped out of the booth, taking a slow funeral march to the bar. Chef collected various bottles off the shelves behind him, pouring different amounts of liquor into a stainless-steel cocktail shaker before resealing it and shaking it expertly.
“Somethin’ else not to your likin’?” he teased.
“I’m being forced to apologize to you,” Sugar replied, lowering her voice to keep her mother from hearing her displeasure.
Chef arched an eyebrow, his subtle grin widening. He stopped shaking the cocktail shaker and placed it down, leaning slightly forward—just skirting the edge of her personal space.
“I’m ready when you are, darlin’.”
That smug motherfucking bastard.
A tight smile of irritation stretched across her lips.
“I’m sorry,” she said through clenched teeth.
His grin inched a little wider. “For?”
Sugar narrowed her eyes.
“For being,” she forced out, “rude.”
Chef unscrewed the cap from the cocktail shaker and poured a bright green liquid into a cocktail glass.
He then placed the glass on the bar counter. “Apology accepted.”
Sugar reluctantly picked it up, taking a ginger sip. Immediately, her eyelids fluttered shut, and she bit back a tiny moan. A sweet explosion overwhelmed her tastebuds. The cocktail tasted like a green apple Jolly Rancher with a smooth, underlying burn of top-shelf liquor.
She took another sip, more appreciative this time.
Noticing his gray eyes fixed on her, her heart skipped a beat.
“Verdict?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“It’s...okay,” she lied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“What’s so funny?” Sugar frowned.
“It must be killin’ you on the inside to want to hate somethin’ but can’t.”
Sugar scoffed. “I meant what I said. My brother’s cocktails are much more impressive than this.”
Chef stroked his clean-cut, salt-and-pepper beard for a moment.
A pondering expression oozed from his face. “Maybe, I should come by to check out the competition. I’ve been known to make a mean cocktail, but if you claim your brother is better, I need to taste it to believe it.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. The one time you were in my restaurant is one time too many,” Sugar countered.
He leaned in a little closer, still respecting the edge of her personal space. “I’m nothin’ like the villain you’ve painted me to be in your head.”
“Then why did I find you the way I did?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I think I deserve that much. I think I deserve to know if the man my parents are friends with is involved in shady, illegal activities,” Sugar stated.
He tossed a crisp white hand towel over his shoulder. “I’ll gladly tell you over dinner tonight.”
Sugar snorted out a laugh before she could stop herself. “Wow, you’re bold. You have the actual nerve to try to coerce me into a date just to clear your name.”
“I’m not a villain, but I’m definitely not a saint,” he replied. “I think you’re curious enough to accept my offer. But I’ll sweeten the deal for my sanity—it’ll be in a public place with plenty of witnesses and no funny business. I’ll try to have you back at a reasonable hour.”
Sugar blinked in confusion, still stuck on something he said earlier. “...your sanity?”
“My mind’s been runnin’ wild with what-ifs and wants since you rejected my courtin’. I want to know what your genuine laughter sounds like. I want to hear your voice when you talk about somethin’ you love. I want to take you on a dance floor just to feel how you feel in my arms,” Chef clarified. “There must be some divine intervention at play for us to meet again against all odds, and I’m not one to sit idly by when presented with a blessin’.”
Her resolve chipped away like a melting glacier with every word he spoke. Her jaw slowly dropped open into a perfect O. An intense heat flashed through her, and she had to steady herself by gripping a nearby barstool.
She recovered as best she could, clearing her throat to shake away quavers. “That’s a tall order from a man who doesn’t have much to bargain with. It’ll take more than sweet talk to get everything you want.”
“The one thing you need to know about me, Sugar, is that I love being put to work. Being a hard worker is a part of who I am. I keep going until the job gets done, but maybe my words don’t do me justice. Say yes for tonight, and I’ll gladly let you see my work ethic firsthand.”
Her breath hitched a little at his words.
This was too much.
He was too much.
She needed to end this conversation now.
Sugar plucked the glass from the bar counter.
“Thanks for the drink,” she replied before spinning on her heels and hurrying away, guzzling down the delicious cocktail to cool herself off.
She could’ve sworn she heard him chuckling lightly behind her.
Now, she had to survive lunch with her mother while he stood nearby.
