Page 127 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

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CLEMENTINE

Iwas exhausted but completely exhilarated as I finally stepped out of the kitchen. My chef’s coat was stained with gravy and cranberry sauce. I probably smelled like turkey and sage, but I felt like I was flying.

The dining room of the soup kitchen was packed with at least a hundred people taking advantage of the free meal. I knew there had been at least three hundred that had already been through. A handful of local politicians were behind the line dishing up the food we prepared. They were all doing it for the photo opportunity, making sure to smile at babies with those perfectly concerned faces. Along with the politicians, there were dozens of volunteers who helped make this dream a reality.

The space itself was beautiful, all warm wood and soft lighting, with long communal tables that encouraged conversation between strangers. It was exactly what my father had envisioned. Kids sat with their parents. Old people that had no business living on the streets were mingling between the families. It was exactly the kind of community my dad hoped he could foster with the communal table setup. People had argued against it, but he insisted. I was so proud of him. So happy I got to be a part of this.

I slipped into the back of the room just as Dad took the small stage at the front, looking distinguished in his navy suit. The crowd quieted as he stepped up to the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began, his voice carrying easily through the room. The din of conversation died down and everyone turned to give him their attention. “Thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate the opening of what I hope will become a cornerstone of our community.”

The crowd applauded. My chest swelled with pride. This was his moment, his dream finally coming to life.

“I grew up in a house where food was more than sustenance,” Dad continued. “It was the thing that brought us together every night. My mother would set the table for however many kids happened to be in the house that day. Sometimes it was just our family of five, sometimes it was ten or twelve when we collected strays from the neighborhood.”

He paused, smiling at the memory. “But no matter how many people showed up, there was always enough. And more importantly, there was always room at the table. Food has this incredible power to help people put their walls down long enough to just be together. To share stories, to laugh, to connect with people they might never have talked to otherwise.”

I found myself getting emotional as he spoke, thinking about all the meals I had shared over the years with my family and new friends. He was right about food’s power to bring people together.

“I believe that’s something we’re missing in modern society,” Dad continued. “We eat alone, we rush through meals, we miss opportunities to really see each other. This place—our place—can fill that gap. Come when you’re hungry. Come when you’re lonely. Sit with a stranger. Go home happier and with a full stomach, and maybe some new friends.”

The sentiment was so beautiful that tears started forming in my eyes. This was exactly why I wanted to be part of this project, why I pushed so hard to be included despite everything that had happened. It would have been so much easier to quit after the first night but this was the end game. These people were why I pushed through. Why all of us pushed through. Even Rhett pushing his high standards was all part of the desire to foster community through good food.

“Tonight wouldn’t have been possible without the incredible team that helped bring this vision to life,” Dad said. “And I want to especially thank our head chef, Rhett Voss, for all the work he did on our tour and for tonight’s exceptional meal. Rhett, would you please come up here?”

My heart skipped as I watched Rhett make his way through the crowd toward the stage. He’d changed out of his chef’s uniform into a dark suit. His left hand was wrapped in gauze from where he’d cut himself earlier. Despite everything that had happened between us, despite the pain and confusion of the past few days, I felt a surge of genuine pride watching him.

He’d been a huge part of this. Without his reputation and culinary skills, Dad might never have garnered enough support from sponsors to make this happen. Without Rhett’s vision and leadership, tonight’s meal wouldn’t have been the success it was. I was thankful for everything he brought to this project, even if our personal relationship had crashed and burned.

Dad clapped Rhett on the shoulder as he joined him on stage. “We had some hiccups along the way,” Dad said with a knowing look at Rhett that made the crowd chuckle softly. “But we all have our burdens to carry, and Rhett is a man I’m proud to do business with. He has generously volunteered his time and I don’t know if any of you have dined at his restaurant, but this guy isn’t cheap. He went above and beyond to provide the best quality food tonight. I know. I sampled all of it and I’m impressed. Rhett, thank you. Truly.”

He stepped back and let Rhett have the spotlight.

Rhett stepped up to the microphone, looking slightly uncomfortable with all the attention. “Thank you, Desman. This project has meant more to me than I can properly express. Getting to travel the country, meeting people who care about making a difference in their communities, and being part of something bigger than myself has been an honor.”

He paused, clearing his throat, and something in his expression changed. “Actually, I have an apology to make.”

My stomach dropped. What was he doing?

“Clementine Hartley, would you please come up here?”

Every head in the room turned to look at me. I felt my face flame red. I shook my head slightly, but Rhett was looking directly at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Please,” he said into the microphone.

Somehow my feet started moving, carrying me through the crowd to stand in front of the small stage. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.

Rhett turned to face me, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler, more personal. Even though it was being broadcast to the entire room, it felt like it was just the two of us.

“I want to thank you for having my back tonight,” he said. “For being kind in the eye of the storm. For seeing me when I couldn’t see myself clearly.”

I stared at him, completely confused about where this was going.

“The truth is,” Rhett continued, turning slightly to address the crowd with a half-smile on those perfect lips. “Clementine was the master behind tonight’s meal. When I let my own issues get in the way of doing my job, she stepped up and ran that kitchen better than I ever could have. I have a new first-class competitor in her.”

The crowd murmured appreciatively, and I felt my cheeks burning even hotter.