Chapter Thirteen

 

             

            “Let’s move it, people! We’ve got hungry mouths to feed! Brian, how’s that fish coming along?”

            “Ready for the oven!” the sous chef called out.

            Jonathan hustled over to where the Atlantic salmon was laid out on the slab of cedar where it would be smoked to perfection. He scanned the seasonings already on it. “Add a bit more lemon zest. Good job,” he added, and turned to the rest of the kitchen help. “It’s Saturday night, people! Let’s make them remember the meal instead of their date!”

            Bertrice opened the door to retrieve an order for one of her tables. Behind her Jonathan heard the phone ringing and Tamberly answering it.

            “The Cauldron. How can I help you? Reservations? You don’t need reservations, sir. Just come on over and we’ll take care of you.”

            The remark made him smile. At first the townspeople had been wary of the new establishment, until a few plucky people decided to brave the food. Since then word quickly spread about the New York-trained chef and his unique twist on comfort food. Within a month’s time the restaurant began to attract people from as far away as Boston. In fact, people started to make the pilgrimage to Toppers Cove for the farmer’s market, then staying to have lunch or supper at The Cauldron before heading home.

            Jonathan found he had also been double blessed. Not only did his father-in-law provide him with all the fresh produce he needed, but Rick, his brother-in-law, managed to get him a sweet deal with the processing plant for all the seafood he could ever want.

            “Hey, Jon? What do you think about staying open an extra hour on the weekends?”

            He glanced up to find his wife smiling at him from the doorway. She was wearing a conservative little black dress, but it hugged her body like it was painted on. “What? Ten o’clock isn’t working anymore?”

            “We have six people making the drive from Rhode Island this evening. That was them on the phone just now.” Tilting her head, she gave him a playful pout. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint our customers by shutting the doors just as they got here, would you?”

            “Fridays and Saturdays only? I could handle it,” he told her.

            “Great! I’ll make up a quick sign and tape it to the door!” She bounced out, her russet hair glimmering underneath the recessed lighting.

            The door barely closed when Bertrice hurried back into the kitchen. Her face was flushed, and she had undone the top two buttons on her blouse to help cool off. It also gave Jonathan a good look at her ample cleavage when she leaned over the warming table.

            He jerked his eyes away, but it was too late. Grimacing, he ducked into the storage closet and grabbed his crotch as his dick began to stiffen and bend.

            “Concentrate, Mauk. Think of Tam. Think of her and how much you love her.” Gritting his teeth, he hissed as the pain began spearing through him. The curse was worse than he had originally thought. He didn’t have to think about another woman. The merest innocent glance at any part of a female body other than the face was enough to bring him to tears as his cock reacted to the spell Manderly had placed on him. If a simple look was all it took to leave him wrung out and whimpering, he dreaded to think what an out-and-out lustful thought would do to him.

            Thank God he was hopelessly in love with his wife.

            It felt like an eternity later, but at last the pain faded away and his dick shrunk back to proportion. Wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, Jonathan pasted a smile on his face and left the storage closet, ready once more to face the dinner crowd.