It may be a silly thing in a small restaurant currently with a kitchen staff of two, but Lily had insisted on the same formal hierarchy that every restaurant she’d ever worked in maintained. It wasn’t for her, but for Kev. If he ever worked elsewhere, that title, that respect and more importantly that instantaneous communication was absolutely vital in running a successful kitchen. A chef didn’t have the time to ask if they’d been heard, didn’t have the energy to wonder if their orders were being obeyed and didn’t have the space for an ego other than their own.

She watched his gaze zone out over her shoulder and didn’t have to turn to know that he was once again watching Emma, the sixteen-year-old waitress from the year below him at Hawke’s High. Lily tried to prevent the smile from forming on her lips, knowing he’d be mortified to know that she and Kate were well aware of his not-so-secret crush.

‘But he’s. So. Hot!’ Emma exclaimed to Kate, joining her at the pass, fanning herself by way of punctuation.

‘He’s too old for you,’ Kate replied determinedly.

‘I’m young, not blind,’ Emma replied, rolling her eyes, as Kate unsuccessfully tried to hide her disapproval of the lascivious gaze Emma had unleashed upon the restaurant.

‘Who is?’ asked Lily, laughing at the exchange.

‘Little Lord Fauntleroy.’

Lily’s pulse leaped in her throat. ‘His name is Henry, Kate,’ she chided even as she struggled to focus on dusting the last dessert order with icing sugar and adding a pinch of salt to bring out the sweetness of the caramel sauce. What was he doing here?

‘That’s Henry Hawkesbury?’ asked Emma, her voice hush with awe.

‘Yes. Though what he’s doing here – at this time of the evening – is anyone’s guess.’ The disdain was apparent on Kate’s tongue. Lily might have her own feelings about the man but that didn’t mean she’d allow bad talk about her customers. She knew what it was like to have the whole village talking about her behind their hands … not even waiting for her to get out of earshot. She would not have that happen in her restaurant.

‘He’s probably here to demand payment,’ Lily groused.

‘Oh really?’ Kate demanded. ‘And what would that be for?’

‘Stolen goods.’ She stuck out an elbow towards the herbs and Kate’s response was an archly raised eyebrow, having managed to prise the whole sorry encounter from Lily over the lunch service. The woman should be working for MI5.

‘He wouldn’t.’

‘Wouldn’t put it past him.’

The simultaneous statements from Kate and Emma blended into one, much like Lily’s thoughts crashing about her head and heart. ‘Has he ordered yet?’

‘I told him I had to check with you first, given the time.’