Chapter 7: Let’s Talk About Marmalade

The tension was thick in the air, not yet impermeable with a knife, but definitely noticeable. So when Selene realized that the chef wasn't going to start the conversation first, she took a step closer to him and tried to master enough charm for a smile.

"Everyone is going out," she started slowly, trying to breach the topic of the party but still doubtful if it was a good idea, considering their previous encounters.

She also couldn't help but stare at the expense of his forearms since his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the paleness of his previously hidden skin. The bartender saw lines of bluish veins, and her mouth watered as if she was in the Renaissance era when the barest hint of exposed flesh was arousing.

Maybe it wasn't the skin itself, but the reminder of how closed off the chef normally was or the fact that he possessed strength even with that slender body of his.

The chef only hummed in response, returning to check on what Selene now could identify as a signature "Braised Brisket Marmalade", but with a few much newer undertones - hop, citrus, and…lemongrass.

"Would you like to join us?" Selene knew that the invite was even worse than shooting in the dark or getting drunk and trying to recite Shakespeare to the local alcoholics. Not that she’s done that before. No.

Carter turned once more, looking at her as if she managed to grow an extra pair of hands within the last minute, or maybe or maybe even the third eye appeared somewhere on her forehead. The bartender even unconsciously reached to scratch her middle finger across the crease just above her nose to check.

But then he pulled a spoon out of one of the pockets carefully hidden in the creases of his apron and dipped it into the boiling liquid before approaching the starstruck bartender.

"Tell me what you think."

It was hardly a request but a firm command from someone who was often placed in this particular position of power. So Selene did.

She leaned towards the offered sample only to realize that the chef wasn’t probably offering to actually feed her. Instead, she changed her mind and reached for the spoon, noticing that the chef didn't flinch or try to avoid the contact when her warm fingers met his slightly colder ones. It’s a wonder that they remained this cold when he was standing near the stove.

Grasping the spoon, the young woman carefully prodded the contents, poking her tongue with caution to sample the offering and trusting it enough to finally try it.

It was sweet, a bit bitter because of the citrus, and something that reminded her of ale but pleasant. Not fiery or agitatedly new. She found it delicious but lacking the final touch.

"It reminds me of orange marmalade and onion jam," she thought a bit more, trying to figure out what else bothered her. "But the lemongrass might be a bit too…" The bartender normally considered herself to be well-spoken, but whatever was in the sample was clearly messing with her mind. And, no, it was definitely not the handsome chef who was making everything hazy. "Oriental. It works with the citrus but not the rest."

Selene stopped herself, catching raised eyebrows and slightly more ajar lips of the chef in front of her. Perhaps criticizing his work wasn't the best ice-breaker. But then again, was it a criticism, saying what you believe is true?

"I…"

But whatever the chef was going to say was dropped when another voice, much higher and even gaily, pierced through the quiet hum of the stove and an otherwise void kitchen.

"Hey, oaf, chop, chop!" The voice was clearly coming from the door leading to the main hall. "We're leaving and getting drunk."

Selene parched up, searching for the source of the interruption, and finally found a small woman with bright yellow hair and pink strands. She was wearing an even brighter green dress with what looked like a hybrid between a tie and a scarf. It was red with orange polka dots carelessly dropped around the edges and closer to the knot.

She was grinning from ear to ear and practically skipping because that walk was overly enthusiastic. Selene side-eyed the chef, who was now looking beyond irritation and closer to 'I will glare until you calm down.' His lips pressed in a thin line, and eyes slightly squinted.

The woman finally reached the spot where the two of them were standing and found a place on Selene's right, a bit closer to the chef, still grinning and ignoring the sullen look.

"That sauce can wait for your next shift," the woman pointedly looked at the pan before looking at the chef through her brows, head lowered to add an intimidating effect. But the former hardly worked on her; that smile was still distracting from anything else.

"It is a new marmalade, Elizabeth," the chef addressed her like one would do with a small child who asked too many "why" questions in a row. "And no. It will not escape.” He slightly popped the last 'p' for effect before adding: "But it will also not cook itself."

"You're not fun, sulkman," the woman, Elizabeth, whose name Selene recognized as the PR manager Rose mentioned not too long ago, finally registered that there was another person in the room.

"Oh!" If Selene thought that her smile wouldn't stretch any wider, she was clearly mistaken. "You must be Selene! I'm Elizabeth. Doing all the ads and PR stuff for this place."

She starched a hand to Selene, and the bartender quickly clasped it with hers, trying to erase any awkwardness from her posture.

"Hi."

Elizabeth shook her hand and, with a final firm squeeze, seemed satisfied with whatever she saw or felt.

"Don't mind our chef here," Elizabeth said as she put her hand towards her face, shielding the movement of her lips from Carter, and staging the gesture to irritate him even more. "Fun wasn't part of his education."

Selene looked at Carter, whose face was still compressed into what the bartender would only describe as a pout, and decided to roll with the teasing.

"Maybe the marmalade was a bit too sour," Selene winked at Elizabeth. "It spoiled the mood."

"Oh!" the PT manager turned to the chef, comically widening her eyes, "I like her! Can we keep her?"

Carter shook his head slightly, "You already hired her. I think that's quite enough for now."

Elizabeth nodded, approaching Carter and hooked her arm around his. She pulled slightly, but not strong enough to actually unglue him from the stove. "And you know that I'm never wrong." She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, ignoring Carter's attempt to lean away from it.

"So, party. C'mon!" the manager groaned, lightly stomping her left foot a bit. "You've been gone for a month."

"Hardly a few weeks. Perhaps," Carter paused to consider something, "Once I'm done here."

Elizabeth shrugged and let him have his hand back before repeating the same maneuver with Selene.

"Well, Selene and I are planning to down a couple of shots and show you how it's done," she smiled conspicuously at the bartender.

"We are…?"

"Yes, and I refuse to hear your excuses. I wanted to meet you properly right after your interview, but Mr. A**hole was keeping me busy."

"It's his job, Elizabeth," reminded Carter, still stirring his experiment.

"Whatever." The manager pulled at Selene's hand, ushering her towards the exit. "Don't be too late. We still had a few plans."

"I won't. Have fun, Elizabeth." He considered them for a moment and supplied as an afterthought, "Selene."

If she had to suffer through several awkward moments and secondhand embarrassment to hear him say her name again, she definitely would. She would tell him how wonderful that marmalade smelled, how it blended with his slightly rougher undertones of sandalwood perfume. Or how he could always ask her to try whatever he was cooking…

But instead of saying anything, she only smiled and stared. It might have been her imagination, but the chef's features looked smoother than before; not flaccid, but content.

Elizabeth said something else, but Selene's head was already stuck at that moment a few minutes ago, replaying it in her mind over and over again. What would have happened if not for the intrusion…

***

The bar was even more packed than it was the last time. Elizabeth made it clear that she really wanted to get to know Selene because the manager never left her side. She even got her a couple of cocktails after complaining about Carter spoiling her plans for 'getting properly drunk.'

"...and once I graduated, I decided to travel a bit and live on my own," Selene stated, retelling a well-rehearsed and practiced story of her move. "My parents own a little antique shop and a liquor store downtown. I figured bartending was fitting."

Elizabeth hummed in response, getting the attention of the local bartender, waving for another drink.

From what Selene managed to gather, they knew each other pretty well, being on the first name basis and all.

"Ladies." The bartender was a young man with curly hair and the smallest dimple on his right cheek, visible only upon close inspection. "Margarita and another shitty beer."

"You are a charmer," Selene laughed, accepting her beer.

"I am here to please, my lady."

"That's why I had to fire you after two weeks," a voice Selene already came to recognize too well suddenly emerged behind her.

The chef was standing just a couple of steps away from her, looking surprisingly at home. He changed his uniform into a classy black shirt, slightly sheer and sparkling around the cuffs with a moderate amount of glitter. In the darkly lit room, his eyes looked almost inhumanly bewitching, reflecting one of the projectors. Jeans remained the same, though; still tight, black, and never changing.

"Look who decided to show up," the bartender said as he extended his arm for a handshake.

"It is nice to see you too, Tony." Selene could have sworn there was even a smile shyly playing on the chef's lips.

"And for the record," Tony said as he turned to Selene and Elizabeth. "I was a crowd favorite. I pleased every patron."

"If by pleasing you mean sleeping with half of our clientele, then sure."

Tony gasped, putting his hand on his heart and swaying slightly as if he was about to faint.

"You wound me, sir." But he clearly was amused by managing to get a joke out of Carter. "Wine?"

"Please. And put all the drinks for my staff on my tab."

Carter sits on the empty chair near Selene, leaving her in the middle.

"Fancy another drink then?" Carter was looking between Selene and Elizabeth, slightly smirking. For the strangers, his smirk would not seem anything but a small lift of the left corner of his lips. But Selene was positively and utterly f…