"I think that's right," I say, slotting the cup under the portafilter and starting the pull. The machine hisses and espresso drips dark and thick into the ceramic. "Yuzu has that perfumy quality lemon doesn't. It'll add complexity without competing with the butter."
"That's the theory." She reaches for a small brown bottle, tips two drops into the pan, and whisks them in with quick, efficient strokes.
I finish pulling my espresso and lean against the counter a few feet from her station, watching her work over the rim of my cup. Sofia and Martinez are both deep in their prep, heads down, and the prep cook has moved to the walk-in for something. Isabelle turns to face me, glancing around the kitchen.
"So," she says in a low voice. "Last night."
"Last night," I say, matching her quiet tone, and take a sip of espresso.
"I had a really good time," she says, meeting my eyes.
"So did I."
"But I meant what I said." She holds my gaze, her expressionserious. "About keeping it simple. You're really great, but I'm focused on New York. You've got the deal with my father. Neither of us needs the complication, so I think keeping it to just last night would be wise."
I set my espresso down on the counter and lean back, amused by this whole conversation. "Chef, are you giving me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech right now? The classic one-night-stand brush-off?"
She rolls her eyes but her cheeks go pinker. "I'm trying to be mature about this. I just want to make sure we're on the same page, because you seem like someone who could get confused about..." She drops her voice even lower, glancing around the room again to make sure no one's listening. "Sex and emotions, you know? Like you might catch feelings or something."
I laugh at that, and the sound carries across the kitchen louder than I intended. Martinez glances up briefly, and I wave at him casually. He nods back and returns to portioning his duck breast.
"Be quiet!" Isabelle hisses, her eyes going huge with alarm.
"No one can hear what we're saying," I say, keeping my voice low but unable to stop smiling. "And don't worry, I heard you loud and clear last night. You said you only wanted it to be one time, and I completely understand. I mean, I don't believe you for a second, but I will absolutely respect your wishes."
Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Excuse me? How dare you presume to know what I want better than I do? I already told you, you're not my type. I like my guys stable and predictable and boring. You're one step away from being clinically insane."
"Clinically insane seems harsh." I take another sip of espresso, thoroughly enjoying this. "I prefer 'charmingly impulsive.’ Much better ring to it. And I think webothknow you like your men to be a bit more unpredictable than stable and boring. Otherwise you wouldn't have spent half of last night?—"
"Donotfinish that sentence," she cuts me off, and she's blushing hard now. "I'm serious, Alex."
"I know you are," I say, taking pity on her. "Which is why, in the name of keeping things professional and casual and very mature, I will honorably refrain from bringing up last night again."
"You’re so not honorable," she mutters, crossing her arms.
"How do you know?"
"Because you don't follow rules," she says, glowering at me. It would be more effective if I didn't see the ghost of a smile too.
"Fair point," I concede anyway. "Terrible at rules. Always have been. Just ask any of my brothers." I finish my espresso and set the cup down. "Anyway, speaking of brothers, you're heading to San Francisco on Monday for that interview, right?"
She blinks at me. "See? This is what I mean. Insane random segue. Absolutely mental. And yes, I have that whole interview thing."
"Well, my brother Jack and his wife Lark are flying in Monday morning," I say. "They're visiting me for the day before they head down to LA. Since there's no service Monday night, I figured I'd drive into the city and spend the day with them, probably stay over since we’ll be out late. You and I are both heading to the same place anyway. We should carpool."
She studies me for a long moment, suspicious. "Is this some kind of ploy to spend more time with me?"
"Would it work?"
"Absolutely not," she says firmly.
"Then it's not a ploy. I just think it would be fun. You could do your interview, then come hang out with us after. Jack and Lark are great, you'd like them. Plus, carpooling is good for the environment. Think of the carbon footprint we'd be saving. The polar bears, Isabelle. Think of the polar bears."
"You're using environmental responsibility and polar bears as a pickup line," she says flatly and I smile. "Fine. But just ascolleagues blowing off a bit of steam. Coworkers carpooling together for practical, environmental, polar-bear-saving reasons. Nothing more."
"Of course," I say, keeping my face perfectly innocent. "I'll be the perfect gentleman."
She points the whisk she’s holding at me like a weapon. "Be ready at nine Monday morning.Sharp. I want time to find parking before the shoot."