Page 24 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

It became apparent what was really bothering him about ten minutes later when Simone came into the kitchen. She had a pinched expression as well. And I knew she didn’t care about what I was wearing.

“Any word from Conroy?” Rhett asked without looking up from the risotto he was stirring.

“I’ve called him a dozen times,” she replied. “He’s not picking up.”

Rhett’s stirring motion faltered for just a moment before resuming with renewed vigor. “Call him again.”

“Rhett, I’ve literally⁠—”

“Call him again,” he snapped.

Several line cooks glanced over nervously before quickly returning their attention to their prep work. Simone’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she stepped away to make another futile attempt at reaching the missing member of their team.

I was beginning to understand why Rhett seemed ready to bite someone’s head off. Conroy was supposed to be running the hot appetizer station. It was a crucial position. Without him, the entire kitchen flow would be thrown off, timing would suffer, and the quality that Rhett demanded would be nearly impossible to maintain. He wouldn’t care if the food was free. His personal standards were very high.

“Should I hold off opening the doors?” I asked.

The look he gave me could have melted me on the spot. “Open the doors. We’ll figure it out.”

The moment we opened the doors, the energy shifted. The line of people waiting outside moved forward. These weren’t the usual restaurant patrons I was accustomed to serving at Salt & Mercy. These were families with children who kept asking if they were really allowed to sit down and eat. Elderly couples who seemed amazed that someone wanted to feed them without asking for anything in return.

I threw myself into seating people. A mother with three young kids caught my attention. She was trying to corral a toddler while balancing a baby on her hip.

“Right this way,” I said, leading them to a table near the window where the kids could watch people walk by. “The children’s portions are just as generous as the adult ones, so don’t worry about anyone leaving hungry.”

The relief that washed over her face was worth every second of Rhett’s earlier disapproval about my dress. This was why we were here.

I went into the kitchen to get some crackers for a toddler to keep him entertained, and I regretted it.

The kitchen was chaos.

Rhett was everywhere at once, expediting dishes, adjusting seasonings, barking out corrections and encouragement in equal measure. I could see the strain on his face.

Twenty minutes into service, it was clear they were drowning. Tickets were backing up at the pass. Every time I went into the kitchen, things got worse. Wait times stretched longer than anyone had anticipated.

“I don’t know,” Simone said before Rhett could ask the question.

That was when the back door was flung open.

Conroy stumbled in, clutching his right arm against his chest. His chef’s coat was torn and stained with something dark that made my stomach lurch when I realized it was blood. His face was pale beneath his usual tan. He was breathing hard like he’d been running.

The entire kitchen froze.

“Holy shit, Conroy,” Simone breathed as she rushed toward him. “What happened?”

“I got hit,” he groaned, swaying slightly on his feet. “I’m okay, just banged up, but I think my arm might be⁠—”

Rhett said nothing. He just stared at the poor man like he couldn’t believe his friend had been run over.

“Get him out of the kitchen and to a hospital,” I said, stepping up. “Right now. He needs medical attention. Tell them to call the police and report this.”

“But the service—” Conroy started to protest.

“Will continue without you,” I interrupted, already reaching for a clean apron. “Simone take him.”

I could feel every eye in the kitchen watching me. No one was moving or talking, which was exactly what we didn’t need.

I turned to find Rhett staring at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Surprise, maybe. Or irritation.