Page 11 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

4

CLEMENTINE

Iwas vibrating.

My father guided me through the back hall toward the kitchen and I could barely keep still. This was like a tween getting to party with Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, and Billie Eilish. I was in the presence of greatness, surrounded by some of the hottest chefs in the world.

The world!

Dad was going to allow me to help in the kitchen. I had never been so happy to offer a little free work. I would work with any one of these chefs without asking for a penny. It was a privilege just to watch them.

I was going to help plate Hwan’s dish. Was it really a big deal? Probably not, but for me, it was better than winning the lottery.

“Hwan, I brought some help,” Dad said.

Hwan looked up and smiled. “Clem! Just what I need.”

His was wearing a pristine white apron and wielding a tiny pair of tweezers in one hand. The other held a delicate ramekin filled with dried purple petals.

The first course of gold-flaked seared scallops in a floral butter sauce smelled heavenly.

My dad gave my shoulder a little squeeze before he peeled off toward the front of house. “I’ll let you two geniuses do your thing.”

I stepped into place beside Hwan, hands clean, mind buzzing. He passed me the ramekin and a set of long tweezers. “Light hand. One pinch per scallop. Think of them like finishing notes. This dish is already singing. We’re just adding harmony.”

God, he made it sound like poetry.

I pinched the tiny, violet flowers and carefully let them fall onto each dish. Hwan nodded in approval, then adjusted one I’d laid a little too far from the butter pool.

“Always let gravity help you,” he murmured. “No need to fight it.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek, and re-centered. It was such a minor detail but it was so important. I knew the lavender enhanced the recipe. Not overpowering. Just enough.

He glanced sideways at me. “You know, you’ve got a real feel for it. Are you still thinking about opening your own restaurant one day?”

“Every single day,” I said before I could stop myself.

He smiled. “Good. Then keep watching. The world has too many chefs who think they’ve made it. We need more who are still hungry.”

I wanted to hug him and cry and ask him to be my new mentor all in the same breath. Instead, I passed him the ramekin. “Thanks, Chef.”

“You’re welcome, Chef.”

After I finished with the plating, I looked around for something else I could do. I was desperate to stay in the kitchen. Other chefs were working on their signature dishes, but none of them were inviting me to stay.

Dammit.

“Go sit down,” Hwan said. “You’re here to eat, not work.”

“Thanks for letting me hang out for a bit.” I was flying when I left that kitchen. Like I could’ve levitated straight through the ceiling.

I cooked with my dad all the time, and yes, he was a world-renowned chef, but he was Dad. Getting to work with these people was so much more exciting.

Sorry, Dad.

The dining room was full now. I slipped through the crowd, looking for my seat at the head table. That was when I saw him.

Rhett Voss.