A knock on the door was followed by Taylor sticking his head inside. “Chef?” “What?” “Are you getting rid of our new server?” I clenched and unclenched my fists. Was there anyone in this zip code who didn’t want to get into Cal’s pants? “No. Why?” “Because the entire kitchen loves her. I think she is singing an Adele song to one of the patrons.” Taylor beamed. “Using a baguette as a microphone.”
