Taste Read online

  “Yeah, you probably won’t see it. I might give that crazy idea a miss.” I crossed one leg over the other, and his gaze went to my ankle.

  “Interesting bracelet. I mean, anklet.” He leaned forward and slid his finger under it, holding up the red jasper beads that were strung on the silver thread. His finger grazed my skin, and it tingled. My breathing became faster. One simple touch, and I was melting. “What are the gems?” he asked.

  “Red jasper,” I said, glad I could remember the name, since my brain function appeared to be gradually diminishing the longer his finger stayed in contact with the delicate skin of my inner ankle. He lifted his finger free, and my brain kicked back into gear. “Savannah gave it to me. It’s supposed to help give insight in dealing with potential problems, and help protect and balance the physical and the spiritual. Whatever that means,” I said with a chuckle. “And something to do with endurance and courage. I won’t say no to that.”

  “Sounds good to me. You’ve definitely shown endurance and courage with your new job and by entering this competition.”

  “I didn’t think of it like that. I’ve just been doing what I want and need to do to get ahead in the career I want.”

  “You’re doing well. Sometimes having a passion for something gives us strength we never knew we had to do things out of our comfort zone.”

  “You’re smart, you know that?”

  Leo tipped his head back. “I never did very well at school. But I’ve worked hard since I was sixteen, so I’m just passing on what I’ve learned.”

  “Thanks for helping me,” I said.

  His eyes connected with mine. “It’s my pleasure. Really.”

  “I wonder what Emilia has planned for the contest. She won’t tell me.”

  “Don’t even think about her. Just focus on what you’re doing.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh.

  Is that what he’d done? Stopped thinking about her? I couldn’t help my curiosity. I had to tell him I knew about him and Emilia and see what his response was. “Hey, so I heard about how you dated Emilia a little while ago.” I fiddled with my watch.

  His fingers stopped their drumming. “You did? Well, it was just a couple of friendly dates, nothing serious.”

  I nodded.

  “I guess we weren’t compatible.”

  I nodded again. I was like one of those little doggy statues in the back of people’s cars, its head bobbing nonstop. It was either that or say something stupid like, “Do you think we’re compatible?”

  Leo straightened up. “I think I’ve decided what cake you should enter in the contest.”

  I straightened up too. “Which one?” I clasped my hands together.

  “I’ll give you a clue.” He hooked his thumbs around each other and flapped his hands like wings.

  A smile slid onto my lips. “Butterfly cake. Yeah? Not the log roll?”

  “I would have had to get up off the couch and roll on the floor to imitate that one.”

  “Ha! Took the easy way out, huh?”

  “Nah, I honestly think you’ve got the best chance with that one. The log roll is beautiful, but there’s just something special about the butterfly cake, in its simplicity and its design. I think it’ll appeal to the judges.”

  “Okay. Done. I’ll make that one.”

  I was about to get up and gather my things to go home, when he spoke again. “And it reminds me of you.”

  My eyes widened. “The cake? Reminds you of me?”

  He nodded. “It has a youthful elegance.” He looked in my eyes. “It’s uplifting.” He moved slightly closer, our eyes still locked on each other’s. “And transformative.”

  A lump formed in my throat, but I managed to gulp it down and whisper a response. “Transformative?”

  “Butterflies symbolize transformation. And somehow, being around you, I feel transformed.” His cheeks developed a light pinkish tint.

  My chest rose quickly in a sudden breath. Like I needed extra oxygen to process those words, to draw them in and fully experience their meaning.

  We just looked at each other. Understanding. Knowing. Wanting.

  I slowed my next breath, preparing for him to come closer.

  But he stood and put his hands in his pockets.

  What?

  “Might have some more of the log roll. Want some?” He moved to the kitchen like we’d been discussing something trivial, like I hadn’t just received the most unique, beautiful compliment of my life.

  He’s retreated.

  Emilia had warned me. I should have listened. I was in too deep. I should just politely say I was full and head on home.

  But I couldn’t imagine not getting to experience something amazing with him.

  If I walked out that door and got hit by a bus (not that buses came into our street), if I walked out and the next day he disappeared like Dad had—no. I wouldn’t waste an opportunity. I wouldn’t let him retreat. We’d connected. I knew it; he knew it. He needed to know it was safe to be with me. He needed to know how I felt.

  I got up from the couch and moved slowly into the kitchen.

  He held up a slice of cake on a plate, his eyes repeating the question he’d asked.

  “I don’t want cake,” I said, taking the plate and gently putting it on the counter.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his eyes dark, delicious, and serious.

  “This.” I brought my hands to his face and cradled his cheeks, gently pulling him close to me. I stood on my toes and touched his lips with mine.

  The moment I did that, his arms were around me, strong and firm, his palms spreading across my back. A hint of sweet berry cream swirled between us as our lips tasted each other. It was better than anything I’d ever tasted, or ever felt. It was complete and utter bliss.

  His hands moved up to my hair, twisting and twirling my curls between his fingers.

  We kissed for a long time, though we seemed to be in some sort of timeless alternate reality where all that mattered was this moment.

  When our lips separated, and our breath merged and warmed between us, a tiny smile formed on his mouth. “That was nice,” he whispered.

  I smiled too, our foreheads touching and our eyes not daring to look away. “Shall we do it again?”

  He brought his thumb up to my face and traced my lips with it.

  “How about three times? Then we can determine which one was best.”

  I giggled against his lips. “Deal, chef.”

  Chapter 14

  I think I had burned about triple the calories since my first kiss with Leo. Not just from the kissing (mental note—Google how many calories kissing burns), but from the fast walking I’d been doing due to the anticipation of seeing him at work each day. Seriously, I looked like an Olympic walker. Although I didn’t have that hip swing thing going on, just the fast legs. But my feet did lift from the ground, and I knew that wasn’t allowed in the Olympics, so on second thoughts I probably looked nothing like an Olympic walker. My legs wanted to get me to work ASAP. Who was I to disobey?

  As I neared the hill that led up to Harborside, I swore I could taste the delicious food already. Lemon, with a hint of chili—something warm and creamy, and toasty garlic and herb bread. I was getting good at this, tasting things before I even got close to them. The flavors sharpened, with sudden bursts of something a little overpowering. I was literally salivating, but at the same time, a dryness came into my throat. Then the flavors dissolved, and Dad’s coffee warmed my taste buds.

  I stopped.

  This wasn’t me sensing the food at Harborside right now—this was enhanced sensory perception. Which meant my sisters were probably feeling it too.

  Talk about bad timing! I couldn’t get to work and then ask Leo if I could take a break to connect with my sisters and see what the future had in store. I tried to talk my senses out of it, which seemed crazy.

  Not right now, okay?

  Just wait till my shift is over then I’ll be ready, yeah?
>
  Surely I don’t need to know whatever it is immediately, this very minute, like right now. C’mon!

  I didn’t know if there was some kind of higher sense power who listened to my ridiculous reasoning, but it was worth a shot. In fact… I think the flavors are getting less intense. Cool. This might be working.

  I opened the door to the restaurant and smiled at Leo, who was on the phone at the reception counter, looking strange behind a fancy, shiny countertop instead of in his usual cooking workspace. I walked quickly into the kitchen, nodding hello to Sam, whose face was partly obscured by steam mist. I put my bag away in the office cupboard, and when I straightened up Leo was there in front of me. “Oh!” My hand flew to my chest. “You gave me a fright!”

  “Sorry!” He quickly glanced behind him to check that Sam wasn’t looking, then pecked me on the lips. We weren’t yet sure about making it known to Sam that we were together. I guess we would see how things went for a while. “I was stuck taking a booking from a very talkative woman, who gave me her life story and even offered to send me her best family meatloaf recipe. I told her I had something cooking that required my immediate attention, or it would be a complete disaster and disappoint many guests tonight.”

  “Liar liar pants on fire,” I teased, tugging at the sides of his trousers.

  “Careful,” he said. “There are better times and places for such things.” He winked.

  He walked off and returned to the stove. I smiled as I admired his… everything. Somehow, even the way his body moved excited me. And the shape of his head, and neck, and ears, and, oh God I had it bad! I was about to walk up to him and ask if he’d been eating something tangy, as I swirled the sensation around my mouth, but then I remembered the enhanced perception. The same flavors built up and formed again on my taste buds. It was back. Damn.

  What was I going to do? Maybe I could keep ignoring it. At least it wasn’t something revolting. At least I wasn’t being bombarded by loud noises that made me want to cover my ears. At least it wasn’t some god-awful smell.

  I attended to the small pile of things to be washed, putting on my rubber gloves just as Emilia arrived. “Hey, chickadee,” she said. “Hard at work already.”

  “You know me. I can’t help myself.” I smiled.

  She went to the reception counter and came back. “Mr. and Mrs. Hathom are late; they’re usually here at five on the dot every Friday.”

  “It’s only a few minutes past,” I said.

  “Well, they are getting older by the minute. Maybe they’re walking a bit slower these days.”

  “Don’t be mean,” I joked.

  “I’m not, just stating facts. Everyone gets older. And many older people are very rigid with their schedules. Dinner at five, favorite television show—oh excuse me—favorite television “program,” as they like to say, at seven thirty, then bed at eight thirty. We’ll probably end up the same one day.”

  “You, maybe,” I said. She whacked me on the arm.

  The door opened and the white-haired couple walked in. Emilia greeted them. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind about coming!” she said.

  “Never,” said Mr. Hathom. “We’ll just have to leave a bit earlier next time. My arthritis is playing up.”

  My body tensed slightly as the tastes in my mouth intensified. How was I supposed to concentrate with this overtaking my senses? I hoped no one would ask me to taste test anything. I didn’t think I’d be able to identify what was what.

  When I’d finished washing a few items and placed them on the drying rack, I removed my gloves and went to the water dispenser. I downed a cup of the cold liquid. For a moment, the tastes subsided. But then they returned. With a vengeance. I drank another cup of water. Great. I’d have to keep running to the bathroom all night.

  “Thirsty, huh?” said Leo, as he whooshed past me as though on roller skates. He grabbed some ingredients and then whooshed back to where he came from.

  “It’s good to stay hydrated while working,” I said with a nod.

  “She’s right,” said Sam. “My wife is always telling me to drink more water. And when I do, I actually notice the difference. More energy and all that. Better concentration. Or maybe that’s on the days I have that extra espresso.” He shrugged, and Leo chuckled.

  I picked up two cups and filled them with water, then placed one each in front of Sam and Leo. “There you go,” I said. “I’ll give you one every hour.”

  “Are you in cahoots with Maria?” Sam asked.

  I raised my eyebrows when I realized I didn’t know what “cahoots” meant. But I didn’t want to seem like an idiot, so I just laughed and said “Maybe.” (Mental note—after Googling “calories burned while kissing,” Google “cahoots.”)

  I was glad to turn my face away from them when the flavors persisted on my tongue, and my mouth salivated so much I was drooling. I lifted my shoulder and wiped my mouth on my shirt.

  I wondered if I could duck into the office and text my sisters, but before I had decided if that would be appropriate, the door to the restaurant opened. I glanced over, expecting Lachlan to be there, though he wasn’t due in until a bit later. My sisters stepped through, all four of them.

  I gulped.

  How would we handle this?

  I eyed them with a look that said, “Yes, I’m feeling it too.” They came to the entrance to the kitchen.

  “Looking for some dinner, girls?” said Leo.

  “Um, not really,” said Savannah.

  “The thing is,” said Talia, moving her hand about in a circle like she didn’t know what to say, which she probably didn’t. “We um…”

  “We need to have a quick word with Tamara about a very important matter,” said Serena. She sounded like she was as old as Mr. and Mrs. Hathom.

  “Yes,” said Sasha, grasping my elbow. “It won’t take long, and she’ll be happy to work overtime to make up for a quick break, won’t you Tam?”

  Gee thanks. But yeah, we needed to connect—speed-style. Hold hands, jolt, bubbles, sense stuff, open eyes, blurt out what we sensed. Talia could write it down on the way home while the others supervised her to make sure she didn’t bump into anything. All done. Three minutes tops, five at a stretch.

  Leo eyed Sam, and he nodded. “Okay, just bring back our best kitchen hand ever as soon as possible.” He winked at me.

  I stepped out of the kitchen and close to my sisters. I thought they might tell me something, but Sasha pulled me toward the restrooms. “Yeah, restrooms might be best, so we um, don’t disturb the customers,” said Sasha, ironically loudly enough to disturb the customers, even though there were only Mr. and Mrs. Hathom in the whole restaurant.

  “And I need to wash my hands anyway,” said Talia, louder than was required. “Brushed against some sticky plant on the way here.”

  Leo gave me a strange look as I shrugged and walked off with my sisters. I hoped Mrs. Hathom didn’t drink too much water so she wouldn’t come barging in.

  The door slapped shut, and I shoved out my hands. “Quick! This is not the ideal time or place!”

  “Our ability doesn’t pay attention to what is ideal,” said Savannah.

  “And I hope you know I had to interrupt a fab kiss with Jordan to come here. I couldn’t exactly act like he smelled bad or anything.”

  “You still haven’t told him what we can do?” asked Talia.

  And I haven’t told Leo.

  “And I won’t unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she replied.

  Exactly.

  “Anyway, Tamara needs to get back to work, and you need to get back to your kiss, and I need to get back to my homework!” Guess who said that?

  We took hold of each other’s hands and closed our eyes.

  Jolt, bubbles, waiting…

  Talia’s hand flinched against mine, but we remained connected.

  The same flavors I’d sensed appeared again: lemon, chili, and something a little nutty. The toasted bread, which was really nice. Then it switc
hed to Dad’s coffee again. It was nothing bad or anything, so what was the big deal? Why now?

  I waited until it felt like the others had finished. It was usually Talia or Savannah who disconnected first. Seeing and feeling bad things made it hard to maintain the connection.

  It was Talia who dropped her hands first. She took a deep breath. “Why do I always have to feel like I can’t breathe? Not fair.” She crossed her arms.

  “Something to do with the poisonings?” asked Serena.

  “Probably. I was struggling to breathe, like I had peanut butter glued to the inside of my whole mouth or something, like something was stuck and I couldn’t get it out. And my head.” She put her hand on her tousled, wavy hair, messing it up a little. “It felt really full, blocked, and painful. Actually, so did my left leg.”

  I told them my comparatively bland sensory experience.

  “I also felt a hand grasp my wrist. Really hard, the fingers digging in,” Talia added, rubbing her wrist.

  “I smelled lemon,” said Sasha, “and some other foods, but they were combined so it was hard to separate them. Too many. And I could smell perfume. It was nice, but strong. I don’t know which one it was; I haven’t smelled it before. Something expensive, I think.”

  “I heard someone gasping for breath,” said Serena, shuddering. “But mostly there was ringing in my ears, like my ears were blocked.” She exchanged a glance with Talia.

  Savvy fidgeted. “Well, that all makes sense. I saw a hand rubbing at a chest, a bit like how the wrinkly hand in that other vision had done, only this hand wasn’t wrinkly. I also saw a male hand grab someone’s wrist—a female’s, I think. My vision was blurred. But not enough that I couldn’t make out a ring on the guy’s finger, some kind of fancy silver design, like an old-fashioned paper scroll. And I saw a face. The face of the person struggling to breathe.”

  “You saw someone? Do you know them?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “He seemed youngish, but not too young. Like, older than twenty, but probably not older than say, thirty-five? Brown hair. Dressed nice. That’s about it,” she said. “But he wasn’t the only one having trouble. I saw another hand hovering above a phone, but all stiff, like the person was trying to call for help, but their arm was stuck in a spasm or something. And this next bit was weird. I could see it like I was the person, but not feel it, so I saw a wave of blurriness, things around me whooshing, then going black and then light again. I’m thinking maybe it was a person falling over?”