He caught her arm as she hurried past, ponytail swinging with her bouncing step. “Nice knife work. You’re really learning.”
“I pick things up quickly. Especially when I learn from the best.” She whirled away to the next group.
He put a hand to his chest. That shot had hit home.
Was he…having fun?
When was the last time cooking was fun for him?
Here, in this kitchen tailor-made to his suggestions after his dad had burned down the last one, on the island he’d sworn never to return to, with the woman who had ruined his life, Zachary Sullivan was having fun.
The grin that slipped onto his lips felt good. Strange but good.
He clapped his hands. All eyes turned to him. “Okay, class. Time to get cooking. We’ll have to take turns at the stove, but now is when the magic happens.” He instructed the class to break themselves into pairs for sautéing their veggies.
The door to the kitchen opened and swung closed. In his peripheral vision, he caught a quick glimpse of a man in a blue polo and khakis. He finished explaining how they would use the cooktop, then glanced at the visitor. Then looked again. Paul Hawkeye had just taken a place near the door. “Keep gradually whisking in this flour,” he told the sisters from Minneapolis, then walked over to Chef Hawkeye.
His stomach was doing loops. “Hello, Chef. I’m Zach Sullivan. We met at the competition over the weekend.”
“Yes, I remember those abysmal sauerkraut sliders.” Chef Hawkeye shook his hand. “Creative, but terrible.”
“Sorry about afflicting your taste buds that way. I should have tasted the dish before serving it. I’m still not sure what happened.”
“We all make mistakes. It’s how we pick ourselves up again that matters.” The other man leaned back and looked at him, gaze steady. “You show potential.”
The stomach loops decreased. “Thank you, Chef.”
“Please, call me Paul. Your sister Dani told me where to find you. I don’t want to interrupt your class. It looks like you’re reaching a critical part. A riff on a boeuf bourguignon, right?” Paul waved his hand toward the room. “Don’t mind me. I likefitting in a little refresher here and there. I’m always open to learning.” He crossed his burly arms and leaned back against the wall.
Yeah, no pressure there. Especially since this beef-and-vegetable recipe came almost directly out of Paul’s cookbookStew.
Zach turned back to the room. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to take turns sautéing our mirepoix. Ava will lead one group, and I’ll lead the other.”
Ava’s eyes widened, and he hustled over to her. “I thought I just had to be the encourager,” she whispered.
“Plans change. I need your help. You can do this.” He held her elbow until she met his eye. He needed this class to go well. At her shuddering breath, his own concerns fled. Forget Chef Hawkeye. Ava needed this class to go well. He held her gaze for a beat. “Ava, you’ve got this. You did great when you were in my class.”
A murmur began around them. Ava took a deep breath, pressed her lips together, and nodded once.
“Attagirl.” He squeezed her elbow and let go. “Let’s form up into two lines.”
The next thirty minutes passed in a blink. The aroma of onions and carrots and then cooked beef flavored the air. Soon each pair of students had a fragrant stew in front of them. “Now for the best part. Dig in, everyone.”
Paul moved to the closest table. “May I?” He gestured at the pan. The honeymooners nodded. Taking a clean spoon, he dipped it into the soup.
Zach held his breath.
Paul closed his eyes as he tried it. His face became a fraction less stern. “Zach, I like the use of sherry here.” He opened his eyes and leaned down to smell the soup, then straightened upagain. “Normally it would overpower a dish, but the strong beef elements balance everything out.”
The tightness in Zach’s chest eased. “Thank you, Chef.”
“Flat iron steak?” Paul raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I like to use that one for my classes instead of a beef roast.” Zach cleared his throat. “It’s tender and well marbled, so you get the flavor of a long-cooking stew without needing to take as much time.”
“Great idea. I might even make a change in my next edition ofStew.” Chef Hawkeye dipped a clean spoon for another bite. “I’d credit you, of course. If it’s okay.”
“It would be my honor.” His chest expanded. He faced the group. “Everyone, this is Chef Paul Hawkeye. You may have seen him on the Food Network.” A titter ran around the room. “In fact, this recipe is an homage to his Beef All Day from his recipe bookStew.”
