Before I Ever Met You by Karina Halle
He can’t know what those words do to me.
How deep and far they reach. The hope they bring.
But he can know just what his body does to mine. That I don’t mind sharing.
He keeps his eyes on mine, burning with lust and I’m so turned on, that I’m wet to my thighs. “Veronica,” he groans as his fingers find my clit, teasing it, his eyes never breaking from mine. “You’re soaked.”
I give him an anxious smile. Even after last night, I’m still a bit nervous. The day is shining a new light on things, making me feel beautiful and exposed. “What can I say? I’ve been dreaming of you all night.”
“This isn’t a dream, Freckles,” he says gruffly as he grabs my hips and pulls me closer. I hook my leg up around his waist, keeping him against me, as he continues to tease me. I’m starting to get impatient, the ache inside me increasing with each slick stroke of his finger.
“Easy,” he whispers to me as he reaches for his cock and runs the crown of it up and down my clit, pausing to dip it briefly inside before bringing it back up. The sound is so loud in this room, so wet, it’s almost obscene.
My eyes close, surrendering myself to this torturous tease. He’s not pushing in, it’s just a slow slide, back and forth, but I feel myself opening for him anyway, my body hungry for more.
“You like that?” he murmurs, his voice so thick with need that I can’t even answer him. I nod, relaxing back into the pillow. I’m both languid and tense, surrendering and spurring him on as he rubs against me, over and over again.
I swallow hard, making a noise that’s nothing short of begging. My heart is starting to sound in my head, my skin is hot and tight, my nipples are hardened pebbles in the cool air as the sheet brushes against them.
With a slow exhale, he grips my hip as he pushes himself inside me from the side.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Inch by inch.
It feels good, then it feels too much, then I don’t even know what I feel because all I feel is him. I stretch around him, decadently full. This is nothing like last night, where it was hot and wild and rushed. This is a slow dance between us, taking the time to enjoy and worship each other’s bodies, to see how we fit, how good we can make each other feel.
This is nothing but pure indulgence.
“Want me to go faster?’ he asks, groaning through the words.
“No,” I say, licking my lips. I look at him. “This is good. It’s too good.”
He nods and watches me intently as he pushes in further. His lips part as he sucks in his breath and his forehead creases in lust and awe, like he can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how good it feels.
That makes two of us.
“Ronnie,” he moans, his grip tightening on my hips, sliding up to my waist, to my breasts where he pinches my hardened nipples. “Fuck…you’re so fucking perfect.”
And in this moment, I feel perfect. He’s watching me, watching himself, watching us, where his cock sinks into me, his shaft wet with my desire. He’s entranced by the sight, the slow push in, the slow pull out.
So good. God, this is so, so good.
Each rock of my hips, each thrust of his, pushes him in deeper, makes us connect like puzzle pieces. The way his abs clench as he pushes inside, the tiny beads of sweat that gather in the creases, the dampness of his brow. I reach around and tug his ass toward me, wanting more, and he drives in so deep that the air leaves my lungs.
My head goes back again, my eyes pinching closed in shock before I surrender. He’s in me, in so deep, and I don’t ever want him to leave. This feels beyond right.
This is us.
It sets something off inside me, a whirlpool in my core that’s slowly increasing, spreading, heating up. It’s going to take over me, it’s going to pull me under, and I’ve never wanted to come so badly in my life.
“More,” I whisper, my voice choked with my sudden hunger for him.
He responds instantly.
With a throaty growl he starts thrusting faster, one hand at my back to hold me in place, the other in my hair, making a fist. Because we’re fucking on our sides, he’s able to slide in deeper than ever, hitting me where my body is ripe and swollen and dying for him.
He brings my head forward and kisses me, quick and hot, tasting like sweat. My mouth is ravenous against his, the need inside me building and building.
And then we find our rhythm, our bodies coming together in synchronicity. He’s pounding and pounding and pounding me, working up into a frenzy because it is work to fuck like this. I can’t keep my eyes off of him, the muscles in his neck are corded and strained as the sweat rolls off of him, his eyes are lost in a fiery haze. The sounds that come out of his mouth with each thrust are deep, real and raw.
The bed slams back against the wall, the sheets are pulled loose, my breasts are jostling. The whirlpool inside me is now at a roar and I have seconds to hold on.
But why would I want to?
“I’m coming,” I cry out, my voice raw and raspy and drowning with desire, trying to hold his gaze. He holds mine back, his eyes burning in victory.
Then I’m twisted, sucked under, as the orgasm washes over me. My body jolts and shudders and I’m high above this world, fading into the stars, into the black. Only warmth and joy remain as I’m washed up on shore.
I never want anything else but this.
Ever.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Logan grunts, bringing me out of the haze. His growling, animalistic noises, the slap of his sweat-soaked skin against mine, the creak of the bed, all fill the air, becoming a deliciously lewd symphony.
Then he lets out a long, primal moan, shoulders shaking as he comes.
The pumping slows. His grip loosens.
He collapses against the pillow, his hair damp and dark and sticking to his brow. His eyes take me in, his breath heavy and hard. “Good morning,” he manages to say. He’s still inside me and I’m still pulsing around him, the torrent inside me slowing.
“Good morning,” I tell him, breaking into one stupid, happy grin.
15
By the time we finally get out of bed it’s nearly eleven a.m., and I need to get going so I can get an early start helping Johnny. With the restaurant closed yesterday and Charlie still gone, we have extra work to make up for.
Unfortunately, this means I’ll have to do the walk of shame.
“All right, let’s go,” Logan says, grabbing his keys as we walk out of his door. He locks it, then grabs my hand, the movement seeming automatic.
It takes me by surprise, even though my first instinct is to pull away, which I do once we get to the street. This is what I want but it’s going to take some getting used to.
“I’m going to head back by the beach,” I tell him.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’m wearing the same dress I wore last night – sans underwear – and it’s going to look pretty obvious if we both show up together like this.”
I expect him to be a bit insulted that I won’t go back with him but a wry smile tugs at his lips. “You’re really going to take this sneaking around thing to another level, aren’t you?”
I just give him a levelling gaze.
“All right,” he says. Then he grabs me by the waist and pulls me to him, kissing me passionately. “But I’m not letting you walk off without giving you one of these,” he says against my mouth.
I’m smiling through the kiss. I can’t help it. One moment I think I can keep my head on straight, the next I’m absolutely giddy that this man is kissing me, holding me. That we can do that now, even if just in private.
Which means we probably shouldn’t be doing it on the public street where any of his neighbors could see, but he obviously doesn’t care about that.
He pulls away slowly, resting his forehead against mine, noses touching, while is hand slips down to my ass. “This isn’t going to be easy,” he says softly.
“I know.”
“Don’t forg
et about me.” He kisses me on the forehead.
“Don’t stop being an asshole,” I remind him. “Or people will think something’s up.”
He grins at me and smacks my ass. “That can be arranged. I’ll see you, Freckles.”
I watch as he walks down the road, past the rooster strutting parallel to him in the red dirt between the asphalt of the road and the stiff grass of the bordering properties. Large banana leaves and palm trees sway in the humid breeze, the hazy mountains rising high in front of him. I feel like the moment is going to be ingrained in my head forever, the moment where I realized that Logan has a big, big piece of my heart.
And I’m pretty sure he always did.
I literally can’t stop smiling. I turn and cut through a narrow path, bright green leaves and blooms in purple, red and yellow, pulling at my hair until I spill out onto the beach. With the golden white sand and the crystal clear waves crashing feet away onto the lava rocks, I throw my hands up into the air and grin at the sky, breathing in deep.
All this time. All this waiting. And now Logan wants to be mine in the way I always wanted to be his.
Almost.
But I shut that thought down. It has no place in today and it shouldn’t have any place in the days after this. I’ve spent too long worrying and caring about what everyone else thinks of me. What we have is worth more than that.
So I do something relatively crazy. Though the waves are strong at the reef, I come to the spot where I had my surfing lesson with Charlie before Logan took over. It feels so long ago and that feeling, that pure joy of riding my first waves, feels like nothing now compared to what Logan and I shared last night.
I can’t help but laugh, gleeful and childish, like I’m a little girl again, then I run straight for the water, jumping in with my dress on. The water feels like a bath tub, such a vivid aquamarine that even a painter couldn’t duplicate it. I swim out a little bit, enough so that my feet are still touching the bottom, and stare back at the resort, my home, a place I never ever want to leave.
I’m buoyant – in the water, in spirit, in my heart.
But I don’t push my luck. You never do with the ocean, I know that by now. As quickly as I splashed in, I trudge out of the water and head over to the hotel, passing Nikki as I do so who gives me the once over, a mug of coffee in her hand.
“Did you go swimming in your dress?” she asks, looking me over.
I shrug. “The ocean called to me, what can I say.”
“Did you see the whales this morning?”
“Whales?” Humpback whales arrived this month to the islands and its always been a dream of mine to see them. In fact, it was the one thing that Juliet and I bonded over as children. When she was ten, she was obsessed with becoming a marine biologist. That was the last that I remember her really being a kid – after that she seemed to grow up so quick. And naturally, wanting to be just like her, I started loving whales and other marine mammals too. But by the time I graduated onto sharks, Juliet had moved onto something else, leaving me in the cold.
“Yeah they were just out there,” she nods at the shore, “breaching and everything.” She adjusts the brim of her bright pink trucker hat and looks at me. “By the way, what happened to you last night? You just disappeared.”
I try not to smile. “I went to bed early. Turkey coma.”
She seems to buy that and pushes out her belly in a vain effort to be relatable. “I feel you on that. It was awesome though,” she adds quickly. “Your mashed yams are a million times better than my grandma’s mashed potatoes that’s for sure.”
I take the compliment with thanks and hurry back to my room to take a proper shower, all the while my eyes going over the grounds, looking to see if I can spot Logan already. Even though we’ve been apart for, oh, I don’t know, twenty-minutes, I already have that itching need to see him again, like a junkie seeking her high. It’s ridiculous and I don’t even care that it’s ridiculous.
Luckily I have work to distract me and I head into the kitchen earlier than I should, an hour before Johnny is supposed to show up.
Since I started working at Moonwater, I’ve had some creative input in the dishes and a few of them have really taken off. But I haven’t had that kind of urge that used to plague me when I was a struggling chef-to-be. There’s something to be said about the monotony of being a line cook that really gets your mind and heart wandering, dreaming about what kind of dishes you’d be serving and making if the restaurant was yours.
Here, I have the freedom and yet, until today, I haven’t really felt the urge. Maybe because moving here has been such a distraction, maybe because I just haven’t felt that creative push. After all, it’s taken me nearly two months now to really get into the swing of things and know the job and the food and the people.
But with knowledge comes confidence. And with happiness comes creativity. As I stand in the kitchen, taking a look at all our ingredients, glancing over the menu, I can feel everything come together with one jab of inspiration.
I’m thinking about Logan and how hard he’s had to work to get this hotel up and running. I’m thinking about the hardships he’s had to face with Juliet gone. I’m thinking about Juliet and the pride she must have taken in Moonwater, even if she took none in her marriage. I’m thinking about the way Logan looked at me last night, the way he looked at me this morning, the way it felt to have him inside me, wanting me in every single way. I’m thinking about my family here, how people have my back for maybe the first time ever.
All of those feelings are boiling to the surface and there’s only one way for me to express it. I need to create something that would please everyone, that would bring us all together. I need to make Moonwater’s signature dish, something a bit salty, spicy, sweet. Something that tickles all the senses and makes eating the pleasure that it should be.
I get to work. I don’t even think, I just run off of this creative juice that’s replaced my blood. I think of plumeria flowers and creamy sand beaches and salty-breezes and the freshest fish. I think of eating fruit; fresh mango from the stands in Hanalei, the juices running down my arms and pulling over in Charlie’s truck to buy green coconuts that you drink from the shell. I think of humpback whales frolicking off shore, happy to be alive in these warm waters, thriving under the sun.
By the time Johnny comes in for his shift, I’m done and staring at the plate with a discerning eye, not sure if what I created is total garbage or not.
“Aye, Ronnie,” Johnny says, grabbing his apron off the wall. “You’re here early. What are you doing?”
“Honestly I don’t know,” I answer absently, still searching the dish for some sign that it’s edible.
“Is that Mahi Mahi?” he asks, bending down to sniff it. “My god, that smells amazing. What did you do?” He’s practically salivating.
“Try it,” I tell him.
He purses his lips together, frowning. “Is it laced with arsenic?”
“Just do it. I haven’t tried it yet. I have no idea if any of it works.”
He shrugs. “Well if it tastes even a fraction as good as it smells,” he says, grabbing a fork. He eats like a tasting judge would, getting a little bit of the fish, a little bit of the rice and a little bit of the sauce and flowers.
I hold my breath as he puts it in his mouth and after one chew, his eyes are shutting and the most orgasmic noise comes out of him. I never thought I’d see Big J’s O-face and it’s mildly disconcerting.
“What the hell is this?” he asks incredulously and when he opens his eyes, they’re dancing.
I try not to get giddy. “I wanted to create Ohana Lounge’s signature dish. So this is it, the aptly named, Ohana Mahi Mahi.”
“Is that a macadamia nut sauce and…?” His eyes close again as he tries to place it. “Cinnamon? What? Nutmeg.”
“I crusted the Mahi Mahi with red salt and a bit of nutmeg-laced panko for the salty, crunchy aspect, then created a macadamia nut sauce spiced with cinnamon for a nice mo
uthfeel and creaminess, then the mango and lilikoi sauce is the tart component. The flowers are just for show, though perhaps we could use orchids so they’re edible. The rice I figured we would leave plain or maybe add some spice for added heat or furikame. Whichever works.”
By now I’m not even sure Johnny’s listening, he’s nodding and has practically cleaned the plate. “This is perfect the way it is. Logan is going to flip out.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, beaming at the sound of his name.
“Oh yeah. He’s been wanting a signature dish for a long time, a reason for people to come here.” Johnny starts licking his fingers. “This will be pricey, the macadamias are going to drive up the food costs and the Mahi Mahi is market price…”
“Then we won’t give it a set price, we’ll go on the market price of the Mahi, and then raise it a few from there. That way customers are liable to spend a bit more if they know it’s not really us raising the price. Plus, we can adjust it that way.”
“I like the way you think,” Johnny says. “Veronica, I knew you had it in you. Those calzones you made were just the tip of the iceberg. Keep them coming. All the time. You have an idea, don’t even ask, just do it. At the very least, I’ll be here to eat it.”
I’ve honestly never felt prouder. Now I want, need, Logan to come in here and try it. I want him to see just what I can do, not just in general, but for his restaurant. This is nothing compared to whatever I cooked for him at Piccolo.
“Hey where were you last night anyway?” Johnny asks as he switches on the radio. Low and behold, “Purple Rain” comes on, which gets another smile out of me. Logan’s favorite song.
“Decided to head in early,” I tell him, swaying slightly to the song.
“I saw you at the bar. Looked like you had a pretty heated argument with Daniel,” he says innocently.
“We weren’t arguing.” I’m quick to shoot that down.
“Well you were talking about something that looked very important.”
I shrug. “Just discussing Juliet.”
“Oh really?”
“Yup,” I tell him. I smack him on the shoulder. “Stop being so nosy Johnny and get to work.”
How deep and far they reach. The hope they bring.
But he can know just what his body does to mine. That I don’t mind sharing.
He keeps his eyes on mine, burning with lust and I’m so turned on, that I’m wet to my thighs. “Veronica,” he groans as his fingers find my clit, teasing it, his eyes never breaking from mine. “You’re soaked.”
I give him an anxious smile. Even after last night, I’m still a bit nervous. The day is shining a new light on things, making me feel beautiful and exposed. “What can I say? I’ve been dreaming of you all night.”
“This isn’t a dream, Freckles,” he says gruffly as he grabs my hips and pulls me closer. I hook my leg up around his waist, keeping him against me, as he continues to tease me. I’m starting to get impatient, the ache inside me increasing with each slick stroke of his finger.
“Easy,” he whispers to me as he reaches for his cock and runs the crown of it up and down my clit, pausing to dip it briefly inside before bringing it back up. The sound is so loud in this room, so wet, it’s almost obscene.
My eyes close, surrendering myself to this torturous tease. He’s not pushing in, it’s just a slow slide, back and forth, but I feel myself opening for him anyway, my body hungry for more.
“You like that?” he murmurs, his voice so thick with need that I can’t even answer him. I nod, relaxing back into the pillow. I’m both languid and tense, surrendering and spurring him on as he rubs against me, over and over again.
I swallow hard, making a noise that’s nothing short of begging. My heart is starting to sound in my head, my skin is hot and tight, my nipples are hardened pebbles in the cool air as the sheet brushes against them.
With a slow exhale, he grips my hip as he pushes himself inside me from the side.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Inch by inch.
It feels good, then it feels too much, then I don’t even know what I feel because all I feel is him. I stretch around him, decadently full. This is nothing like last night, where it was hot and wild and rushed. This is a slow dance between us, taking the time to enjoy and worship each other’s bodies, to see how we fit, how good we can make each other feel.
This is nothing but pure indulgence.
“Want me to go faster?’ he asks, groaning through the words.
“No,” I say, licking my lips. I look at him. “This is good. It’s too good.”
He nods and watches me intently as he pushes in further. His lips part as he sucks in his breath and his forehead creases in lust and awe, like he can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how good it feels.
That makes two of us.
“Ronnie,” he moans, his grip tightening on my hips, sliding up to my waist, to my breasts where he pinches my hardened nipples. “Fuck…you’re so fucking perfect.”
And in this moment, I feel perfect. He’s watching me, watching himself, watching us, where his cock sinks into me, his shaft wet with my desire. He’s entranced by the sight, the slow push in, the slow pull out.
So good. God, this is so, so good.
Each rock of my hips, each thrust of his, pushes him in deeper, makes us connect like puzzle pieces. The way his abs clench as he pushes inside, the tiny beads of sweat that gather in the creases, the dampness of his brow. I reach around and tug his ass toward me, wanting more, and he drives in so deep that the air leaves my lungs.
My head goes back again, my eyes pinching closed in shock before I surrender. He’s in me, in so deep, and I don’t ever want him to leave. This feels beyond right.
This is us.
It sets something off inside me, a whirlpool in my core that’s slowly increasing, spreading, heating up. It’s going to take over me, it’s going to pull me under, and I’ve never wanted to come so badly in my life.
“More,” I whisper, my voice choked with my sudden hunger for him.
He responds instantly.
With a throaty growl he starts thrusting faster, one hand at my back to hold me in place, the other in my hair, making a fist. Because we’re fucking on our sides, he’s able to slide in deeper than ever, hitting me where my body is ripe and swollen and dying for him.
He brings my head forward and kisses me, quick and hot, tasting like sweat. My mouth is ravenous against his, the need inside me building and building.
And then we find our rhythm, our bodies coming together in synchronicity. He’s pounding and pounding and pounding me, working up into a frenzy because it is work to fuck like this. I can’t keep my eyes off of him, the muscles in his neck are corded and strained as the sweat rolls off of him, his eyes are lost in a fiery haze. The sounds that come out of his mouth with each thrust are deep, real and raw.
The bed slams back against the wall, the sheets are pulled loose, my breasts are jostling. The whirlpool inside me is now at a roar and I have seconds to hold on.
But why would I want to?
“I’m coming,” I cry out, my voice raw and raspy and drowning with desire, trying to hold his gaze. He holds mine back, his eyes burning in victory.
Then I’m twisted, sucked under, as the orgasm washes over me. My body jolts and shudders and I’m high above this world, fading into the stars, into the black. Only warmth and joy remain as I’m washed up on shore.
I never want anything else but this.
Ever.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Logan grunts, bringing me out of the haze. His growling, animalistic noises, the slap of his sweat-soaked skin against mine, the creak of the bed, all fill the air, becoming a deliciously lewd symphony.
Then he lets out a long, primal moan, shoulders shaking as he comes.
The pumping slows. His grip loosens.
He collapses against the pillow, his hair damp and dark and sticking to his brow. His eyes take me in, his breath heavy and hard. “Good morning,” he manages to say. He’s still inside me and I’m still pulsing around him, the torrent inside me slowing.
“Good morning,” I tell him, breaking into one stupid, happy grin.
15
By the time we finally get out of bed it’s nearly eleven a.m., and I need to get going so I can get an early start helping Johnny. With the restaurant closed yesterday and Charlie still gone, we have extra work to make up for.
Unfortunately, this means I’ll have to do the walk of shame.
“All right, let’s go,” Logan says, grabbing his keys as we walk out of his door. He locks it, then grabs my hand, the movement seeming automatic.
It takes me by surprise, even though my first instinct is to pull away, which I do once we get to the street. This is what I want but it’s going to take some getting used to.
“I’m going to head back by the beach,” I tell him.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’m wearing the same dress I wore last night – sans underwear – and it’s going to look pretty obvious if we both show up together like this.”
I expect him to be a bit insulted that I won’t go back with him but a wry smile tugs at his lips. “You’re really going to take this sneaking around thing to another level, aren’t you?”
I just give him a levelling gaze.
“All right,” he says. Then he grabs me by the waist and pulls me to him, kissing me passionately. “But I’m not letting you walk off without giving you one of these,” he says against my mouth.
I’m smiling through the kiss. I can’t help it. One moment I think I can keep my head on straight, the next I’m absolutely giddy that this man is kissing me, holding me. That we can do that now, even if just in private.
Which means we probably shouldn’t be doing it on the public street where any of his neighbors could see, but he obviously doesn’t care about that.
He pulls away slowly, resting his forehead against mine, noses touching, while is hand slips down to my ass. “This isn’t going to be easy,” he says softly.
“I know.”
“Don’t forg
“Don’t stop being an asshole,” I remind him. “Or people will think something’s up.”
He grins at me and smacks my ass. “That can be arranged. I’ll see you, Freckles.”
I watch as he walks down the road, past the rooster strutting parallel to him in the red dirt between the asphalt of the road and the stiff grass of the bordering properties. Large banana leaves and palm trees sway in the humid breeze, the hazy mountains rising high in front of him. I feel like the moment is going to be ingrained in my head forever, the moment where I realized that Logan has a big, big piece of my heart.
And I’m pretty sure he always did.
I literally can’t stop smiling. I turn and cut through a narrow path, bright green leaves and blooms in purple, red and yellow, pulling at my hair until I spill out onto the beach. With the golden white sand and the crystal clear waves crashing feet away onto the lava rocks, I throw my hands up into the air and grin at the sky, breathing in deep.
All this time. All this waiting. And now Logan wants to be mine in the way I always wanted to be his.
Almost.
But I shut that thought down. It has no place in today and it shouldn’t have any place in the days after this. I’ve spent too long worrying and caring about what everyone else thinks of me. What we have is worth more than that.
So I do something relatively crazy. Though the waves are strong at the reef, I come to the spot where I had my surfing lesson with Charlie before Logan took over. It feels so long ago and that feeling, that pure joy of riding my first waves, feels like nothing now compared to what Logan and I shared last night.
I can’t help but laugh, gleeful and childish, like I’m a little girl again, then I run straight for the water, jumping in with my dress on. The water feels like a bath tub, such a vivid aquamarine that even a painter couldn’t duplicate it. I swim out a little bit, enough so that my feet are still touching the bottom, and stare back at the resort, my home, a place I never ever want to leave.
I’m buoyant – in the water, in spirit, in my heart.
But I don’t push my luck. You never do with the ocean, I know that by now. As quickly as I splashed in, I trudge out of the water and head over to the hotel, passing Nikki as I do so who gives me the once over, a mug of coffee in her hand.
“Did you go swimming in your dress?” she asks, looking me over.
I shrug. “The ocean called to me, what can I say.”
“Did you see the whales this morning?”
“Whales?” Humpback whales arrived this month to the islands and its always been a dream of mine to see them. In fact, it was the one thing that Juliet and I bonded over as children. When she was ten, she was obsessed with becoming a marine biologist. That was the last that I remember her really being a kid – after that she seemed to grow up so quick. And naturally, wanting to be just like her, I started loving whales and other marine mammals too. But by the time I graduated onto sharks, Juliet had moved onto something else, leaving me in the cold.
“Yeah they were just out there,” she nods at the shore, “breaching and everything.” She adjusts the brim of her bright pink trucker hat and looks at me. “By the way, what happened to you last night? You just disappeared.”
I try not to smile. “I went to bed early. Turkey coma.”
She seems to buy that and pushes out her belly in a vain effort to be relatable. “I feel you on that. It was awesome though,” she adds quickly. “Your mashed yams are a million times better than my grandma’s mashed potatoes that’s for sure.”
I take the compliment with thanks and hurry back to my room to take a proper shower, all the while my eyes going over the grounds, looking to see if I can spot Logan already. Even though we’ve been apart for, oh, I don’t know, twenty-minutes, I already have that itching need to see him again, like a junkie seeking her high. It’s ridiculous and I don’t even care that it’s ridiculous.
Luckily I have work to distract me and I head into the kitchen earlier than I should, an hour before Johnny is supposed to show up.
Since I started working at Moonwater, I’ve had some creative input in the dishes and a few of them have really taken off. But I haven’t had that kind of urge that used to plague me when I was a struggling chef-to-be. There’s something to be said about the monotony of being a line cook that really gets your mind and heart wandering, dreaming about what kind of dishes you’d be serving and making if the restaurant was yours.
Here, I have the freedom and yet, until today, I haven’t really felt the urge. Maybe because moving here has been such a distraction, maybe because I just haven’t felt that creative push. After all, it’s taken me nearly two months now to really get into the swing of things and know the job and the food and the people.
But with knowledge comes confidence. And with happiness comes creativity. As I stand in the kitchen, taking a look at all our ingredients, glancing over the menu, I can feel everything come together with one jab of inspiration.
I’m thinking about Logan and how hard he’s had to work to get this hotel up and running. I’m thinking about the hardships he’s had to face with Juliet gone. I’m thinking about Juliet and the pride she must have taken in Moonwater, even if she took none in her marriage. I’m thinking about the way Logan looked at me last night, the way he looked at me this morning, the way it felt to have him inside me, wanting me in every single way. I’m thinking about my family here, how people have my back for maybe the first time ever.
All of those feelings are boiling to the surface and there’s only one way for me to express it. I need to create something that would please everyone, that would bring us all together. I need to make Moonwater’s signature dish, something a bit salty, spicy, sweet. Something that tickles all the senses and makes eating the pleasure that it should be.
I get to work. I don’t even think, I just run off of this creative juice that’s replaced my blood. I think of plumeria flowers and creamy sand beaches and salty-breezes and the freshest fish. I think of eating fruit; fresh mango from the stands in Hanalei, the juices running down my arms and pulling over in Charlie’s truck to buy green coconuts that you drink from the shell. I think of humpback whales frolicking off shore, happy to be alive in these warm waters, thriving under the sun.
By the time Johnny comes in for his shift, I’m done and staring at the plate with a discerning eye, not sure if what I created is total garbage or not.
“Aye, Ronnie,” Johnny says, grabbing his apron off the wall. “You’re here early. What are you doing?”
“Honestly I don’t know,” I answer absently, still searching the dish for some sign that it’s edible.
“Is that Mahi Mahi?” he asks, bending down to sniff it. “My god, that smells amazing. What did you do?” He’s practically salivating.
“Try it,” I tell him.
He purses his lips together, frowning. “Is it laced with arsenic?”
“Just do it. I haven’t tried it yet. I have no idea if any of it works.”
He shrugs. “Well if it tastes even a fraction as good as it smells,” he says, grabbing a fork. He eats like a tasting judge would, getting a little bit of the fish, a little bit of the rice and a little bit of the sauce and flowers.
I hold my breath as he puts it in his mouth and after one chew, his eyes are shutting and the most orgasmic noise comes out of him. I never thought I’d see Big J’s O-face and it’s mildly disconcerting.
“What the hell is this?” he asks incredulously and when he opens his eyes, they’re dancing.
I try not to get giddy. “I wanted to create Ohana Lounge’s signature dish. So this is it, the aptly named, Ohana Mahi Mahi.”
“Is that a macadamia nut sauce and…?” His eyes close again as he tries to place it. “Cinnamon? What? Nutmeg.”
“I crusted the Mahi Mahi with red salt and a bit of nutmeg-laced panko for the salty, crunchy aspect, then created a macadamia nut sauce spiced with cinnamon for a nice mo
By now I’m not even sure Johnny’s listening, he’s nodding and has practically cleaned the plate. “This is perfect the way it is. Logan is going to flip out.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, beaming at the sound of his name.
“Oh yeah. He’s been wanting a signature dish for a long time, a reason for people to come here.” Johnny starts licking his fingers. “This will be pricey, the macadamias are going to drive up the food costs and the Mahi Mahi is market price…”
“Then we won’t give it a set price, we’ll go on the market price of the Mahi, and then raise it a few from there. That way customers are liable to spend a bit more if they know it’s not really us raising the price. Plus, we can adjust it that way.”
“I like the way you think,” Johnny says. “Veronica, I knew you had it in you. Those calzones you made were just the tip of the iceberg. Keep them coming. All the time. You have an idea, don’t even ask, just do it. At the very least, I’ll be here to eat it.”
I’ve honestly never felt prouder. Now I want, need, Logan to come in here and try it. I want him to see just what I can do, not just in general, but for his restaurant. This is nothing compared to whatever I cooked for him at Piccolo.
“Hey where were you last night anyway?” Johnny asks as he switches on the radio. Low and behold, “Purple Rain” comes on, which gets another smile out of me. Logan’s favorite song.
“Decided to head in early,” I tell him, swaying slightly to the song.
“I saw you at the bar. Looked like you had a pretty heated argument with Daniel,” he says innocently.
“We weren’t arguing.” I’m quick to shoot that down.
“Well you were talking about something that looked very important.”
I shrug. “Just discussing Juliet.”
“Oh really?”
“Yup,” I tell him. I smack him on the shoulder. “Stop being so nosy Johnny and get to work.”