No Funny Business (The Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy)

“And that’s my menu.”
“It’s a terrible menu! You deep fry everything!”
“Whoa. Stop right there.” He flicked his annoying bangs back to reveal shocked eyes, as though I’d finally gone too far. “Who doesn’t like fried food?”
I put my fists on my hips. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe adults who want to survive into old age? The same kind of people who know you go off your rocker, not lose your rocking chair.”
He huffed. “You’re off your meds, lady. I’ll come back when you’ve stopped freaking out.”
“Listen very closely, Lee. What I’m saying is that I don’t want you to come back. That’s why I’m firing you!”
“But you’ll never find another chef with my talent.”
I snorted. “Your talent for dunking everything in hot oil could be unique and special, or maybe any idiot could do it. Either way, I guess I’ll find out.”
“Then go ahead and dig your own funeral.” He shoved the door back open. “Get ready to see my smug face when you figure out what a mistake you made.”
I curled my hands into fists and yelled after him. “The whole point of firing you is so I never have to see your face again, you insufferable knuckle dragger!”
But the door was already closing behind him.
Then I was left by myself in an empty café, with a caustic stench of chemicals in the air and my tsunami of rage giving way to an ebbing tide of defeat.
I took off my glasses to wipe tears of frustration from my eyes and blinked up at the heavens. “What am I going to do now?” I asked out loud.
With my anger fading, I was already starting to regret firing Lee. If I couldn’t keep the café operating, my chances of selling it got even slimmer, let alone paying off the loan I’d taken out to get Dad an apartment in an assisted living center.
My eyes were burning, and I wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the pungent fumes or my overwhelming urge to curl up in the corner and sob.
Through the serving hatch I could see a strip of bacon stuck to the wall behind the oven, glued by a thick layer of grease. Another strip was on the floor, floating in a puddle of oily water with a fly buzzing around it.
But I couldn’t let this get the better of me. Falling apart was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Instead, I turned all the kitchen extract fans on and rooted around in the storage cupboard until I found rubber gloves, a face mask and protective coveralls. I didn’t have the money to call in professional cleaners, so after suiting up, I got to work.
I was cleaning the kitchen counters when my phone rang. Seeing my best friend’s name on the screen filled me with relief, and I dragged off my gloves to answer.
“Carlotta,” I croaked. “I’m so glad you called.”
“Are you okay Nat? You sound upset.”
“I did something I shouldn’t have. I fired Lee.”
“Okay,” Carlotta said cautiously. “But is that a bad thing? We didn’t like Lee, remember?”
“But now I don’t have a chef for tomorrow, and I’m supposed to be hosting a special event. A really sweet man proposed to his wife here in the café thirty-five years ago, and they’ve booked lunch for all their family and friends for their wedding anniversary.”
“Can you postpone their lunch to another day?”
“Thirty-five years. How can I mess that up for them?”
“What are you going to do? Can you find another chef?”
“There’s no time.” I dragged in a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “I’ll have to cook the meals myself. I’ll stay open for breakfast as usual, and handle the table of twenty-eight people booked for the special lunch.”
“You? Cook for twenty-eight people?” Carlotta sounded so incredulous I huffed.
“If Lee could do it, how hard could it really be? All I have to do is try not to accidentally poison anyone.”
Carlotta was silent for a long time.
“Don’t do anything. I’m coming over,” she finally said. And the note of barely-contained panic in her voice told me exactly what she thought about my chances of not messing it up.

Chapter Two


Kade
Apparently, I’d become a chef who couldn’t cook.
Standing in front of the stove, I was grimacing at the disgusting taste of the quinoa I’d managed to turn into gloop when my twin brother Asher emerged from the room he was using as his office. He stopped on the other side of the kitchen island and swept his gaze across the plates, food scraps, and cooking utensils piled up on the counter.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“No, it doesn’t.” I lowered my fork. “And if it does, it’s a lie. Because this...” I used the fork to point at the quinoa. “Is anything but good. If this dish were music, it’d be a beginner’s bagpipe recital. If it were an insect, it’d be pubic lice. If it were email, it’d be trying to sell you a penis enlargement. If it—”
“Let me taste it,” interrupted Asher. He held out his hand for the fork. “Maybe it’s not that bad.”
“It’s terrible.” Ignoring his hand, I dropped the fork into the sink. “Only good for the trash. Unless you’d like to invite a mortal enemy for dinner?”
Asher leaned against one of the kitchen bar stools and folded his arms. My twin, who sometimes liked to remind me he was precisely fourteen minutes older than me, had darker hair and eyes than I did, the lines of his face were sharper, and he wore black jeans and dark shirts, while I preferred lighter colors. He was also very happily shacked up with his girlfriend Iola, while I was just as happy being a bachelor.
Scratch that, I was happier. Being a bachelor meant being free to date lots of beautiful, interesting women, with no potential for heartbreak. Why would anyone want anything else?
“I take it you won’t be including this recipe in your show?” Asher asked.
“If I did, I’d have to change the show’s name. Instead of Kade Cooks,