Page 6 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

He nodded. “We’ll be hitting some of the best restaurants in the country. Watch anyone you want. Learn from the best. I’ve already made some calls.”

I shot out of my chair so fast it nearly toppled. I flew around the table and tackled him in a hug that might’ve cracked a rib. “You’re kidding me—no, don’t kid me. Are you serious serious?”

He hugged me back. “Serious serious.”

“This is amazing,” I breathed, squeezing him harder. “Dad. Thank you. Holy shit.”

Mom gave me her patented language eyebrow, but she was smiling, too. She understood what a huge deal this was for me.

I sat back down, still stunned, still buzzing, heart practically beating out of my chest.

“And yes,” my dad added. “I’ve arranged time for you to observe Rhett Voss in the kitchen.”

This time, I did choke.

Henry snorted from across the table. “You okay, Clem?”

No. No, I was not.

Because Rhett Voss wasn’t just some name. He was the name. The Michelin-star bad boy.

Now I was going to be right there. Up close. In his space. With his fire.

Oh god.

What if I tripped? What if I said something dumb? What if I stared too long at his hands again and he caught me and kicked me out of the kitchen? What if I spilled hot oil on him? What if… it all went perfectly and Rhett Voss saw all my potential and took me under his wing?

“Thank you,” I said quietly to my dad. “I really mean it.”

“I know,” he said. “But I also know you’re going to have to work twice as hard out there. You’re my daughter. Some people are going to say you didn’t earn your spot.”

I nodded.

“But they would be wrong,” he said. “You’ve got what it takes, Clem. I’ve seen it.”

I swallowed hard and nodded again.

Was I ready for this?

No.

But I was going anyway.