Last Olive Bistro ✓

Chapter 28: Enemies

*Disclaimer: This chapter contains mature content intended only for adult readers.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in my knowing him, I saw Jacob wearing clothes other than his usual business-wear. For our hike, he donned navy track pants and a white t-shirt—plain and simple, yet he looked just like all the money he had, and the fit was just perfect on his body.

"So, your life is basically a Martin Scorsese film?" I asked, half joking as we walked along the pebbled trail lined with a forest of lush greenery and flowers.

He shook his head. "If only it were all fiction," he said. "I would edit out the long history Angela and I have."

A headache throbbed in my brain while I processed the load of information he buried me with. "They're not after her anymore?"

"No. A lot of those mafia guys are dead now and the few who are left are too old to give a damn. Their kids didn't care about keeping up the family business and I don't blame them." He paused and slipped his hands in his pockets. "I knew she left Philly after what her family did to my father's store, but I had no idea she was in New York."

I proceeded with my next question with a sliver of caution. "Did you ever want to go after her yourself?"

"Things got complicated when her fiancé came after my restaurants. He was ruthless; he wanted to obliterate any trace of us after we offed her father."

The mood dropped significantly and I could sense Jacob was bothered by his memories. I reran his history in my head and it even brought me down. Now he had to revisit the nightmares by communicating with her once again—trying to nicely get her to leave town and making up a bogus story, warning her she needs to go. I was standing in the middle of a dormant volcano by working with her and dating her enemy.

We wandered away from the trail and maneuvered through a thicket of trees. The view opened up to the ocean and we sat on a couple of flat-top boulders. The surface was hot from the sun beating down and it took me a second for my exposed legs to adjust to the heat.

The high-noon sun shined across the water and the ripples emulated a sea of glitter. Jacob admired the natural beauty but his eyes were distant and sad. There was no sparkle in them like there usually was.

"That's when I went from being their top chef to their captain," he said, finishing his story.

Speedboats zipped by on the water, one with a parasailer hanging on for dear life in the sky behind it. From the sound of their screams, it was probably the first time they did it, or they were just having fun. Their mood was lighter than down on the shore among the rocks.

"Why not just talk it out with her? It's like fate brought you back together, so maybe now is your chance to make things right."

He glanced at me, twisting his mouth into an uncertain smirk. "It's never that simple, Chloe. Once someone like that messes with the people you care about, you'll do anything to never let it happen again. I should've done what was right when I had the chance."

~ ~ ~

I peaked under the damp cloth and was surprised by how large the dough had risen. "Is this done?"

Jacob flicked water off his hands and stooped his head low to see under the towel. "What do you think?" He popped back over to the range where he was searing meat.

"I think it's ready," I answered with hesitance.

He speedily retracted his hand from the pan and shook off the pain. "Good. Now what do you do?"

I slipped the cloth off and folded it neatly beside the bowl. I stared at the risen dough and bit the inside of my cheek. "Um, knead it?" I directed my attention at Jacob who scrambled to get the meat out of the pan quickly. He chuckled once under his breath.

"You did that already. What do you do now that it's risen the second time?"

I looked back at the dough and it took half a second for the answer to hit me. "We can bake it, finally?"

"Yes," he said, with a laugh. He yanked off a piece of aluminum foil and covered the meat, then stepped towards me, leaning over. "Where's your baking sheet?"

It wasn't where I initially placed it, and it took a moment to find it. Somehow it ended up on the countertop across the kitchen. I scurried to retrieve it and return to my spot.

"Do I need to flour this too?" I asked, running my hand over the sheet's metal surface.

Jacob raised an eyebrow at me, suggesting that I knew the answer. I scrunched my face in a goofy smile and grabbed the bag of flour. "How much?"

"Just a dusting," he said, observing closely.

I sprinkled the flour all over the baking sheet and spread it out evenly with a light touch. I added a little extra to my hands in order to shape the dough into a loaf. I pulled it out gently and plopped it on the sheet. Jacob began to laugh.

"What?" I questioned, worried I was at fault for messing it all up.

He reached his hand down to almost between my legs, slow and methodical. My face blushed bright pink, but I was able to let go of the breath I was holding when all he did was open a drawer. I laughed, embarrassed, and he revealed a stainless steel dough scraper.

"You can separate the dough into at least two loaves. This batch might make three, but we'll keep it simple for your first time," he explained and handed over the scraper.

Uncertain, I pressed the sharp edge into the middle of the dough, but wasn't sure if it went all the way through. My free hand tugged at the dough on one side, but it ripped unevenly. I scoffed.

"Here, I'll show you." Jacob stepped even closer so that our bodies were barely touching. He placed one hand over mine on the scraper and pushed down harder into the dough. "You can be a little rough with it," he said.

He took hold of my other hand and wrapped my fingers around the dough tighter, all while pulling the scraper away to separate it. It worked without tearing it any worse. Jacob pulled back his hands but remained close to watch as I reshaped the two pieces into what were almost perfect ovals.

"How's that?" I asked.

"Perfect. You can put those in their pans and into the oven. Congratulations, you made bread!"

An alleviated laugh snuck out from behind my lips as I completed one of Jacob's impromptu cooking lessons. "Duly noted that a bit of roughness is a good thing."

He shot me a side glance but I ended up laughing too loud at my own innuendo.

"Don't forget I told you to do it that way," he remarked. He unraveled the seared meat then clicked the heat on for the built-in range grill. "Come here."

I shuffled over to him and stood just as close as he did. He found it amusing and struggled not to break a grin. "Now I'll teach you how to properly grill a steak, so listen closely."

"You have a thing for bossing people around?" I asked, teasing.

"Am I bossing you around?" he asked. "I've ordered around some of the most hard-bitten guys on the planet; bossing you around would be too easy."

I watched as he placed each steak gently onto the heated grill top, with smoke immediately rising from underneath.

"But you said you like it rough," I said, then lowered my voice to barely above a whisper. "I can make it rough." While I was simply playing around, and that I fully intended on granting his wish, I was pleased with myself that I took the leap and was more confident in moving the relationship to the next level.

I adjusted the gleaming Bulgari watch on his wrist and admired its unblemished craftsmanship. My fingers lingered on the steel band, then coolly caressed his arm.

"Just keep thinking about all the things I'm doing to you tonight," he said, his voice sultry. "But before I become too tempted to bend you over this countertop, let's finish our cooking lesson and eat, shall we?"