Page 89 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

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CLEMENTINE

Tension radiated off Rhett like heat from a furnace, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I watched the chaos. His big, boisterous, and undeniably Italian family were entertaining.

I watched the way Rhett’s jaw kept tightening, the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the table, and I could practically feel his desperate wish that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. But honestly? I was having the time of my life.

These men were like characters from a movie—larger than life, completely unfiltered, and absolutely devoted to embarrassing their younger relative. The way they teased Rhett and the obvious pride in their voices when they talked about his success was endearing. Once they realized I wasn’t going anywhere, they just accepted me like I had been part of the family for years.

Sure, there was something a little intimidating about them. The expensive suits, the heavy jewelry, the way other diners kept glancing over with expressions that ranged from curious to genuinely concerned. I wasn’t naive. I could put two and two together, especially when Marco casually mentioned “the family business” and Tony made a joke about someone owing them money.

But they were also the kind of men who drove hours to surprise their nephew at a fancy dinner, who wore clip-on ties with golf clubs because their wives told them to dress nice and then proceeded to rave about the food. And best of all, they were telling embarrassing stories about Rhett’s childhood.

“So there he was,” Uncle Sal was saying, gesturing wildly with his dessert fork. “Maybe ten years old, standing on a chair in my kitchen, trying to flip pancakes like he’d seen on TV. Kid flipped one right onto the ceiling. It stuck there for three days before my wife noticed.”

“I was trying to impress you,” Rhett muttered, but there was something softer in his expression now, like despite his mortification, he was remembering why he loved these ridiculous men.

“You impressed us, alright.” Tony laughed. “Impressed us with how much trouble one little kid could cause in five minutes.”

I found myself leaning forward, completely captivated. “What else did he cook as a kid?”

“Oh, honey, you got all night? Because we got stories.” Gabriel was probably only a few years older than Rhett, but something told me the guy had lived a very eventful life.

“No,” Rhett said firmly, “we absolutely do not have all night.”

But I ignored his protest, turning back to Gabriel with what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “I have time. And actually, I do have all night.”

Rhett groaned.

For the next hour, I learned more about Rhett Voss than I had in the entire month we had worked together. I heard about the kid who experimented with his grandmother’s sauce recipes until he found the perfect balance. He saved his allowance to buy fancy ingredients from the Italian market and announced at twelve that he was going to be a famous chef someday and never wavered from that dream.

I also got the distinct impression that this family had seen some dark times, that there were stories they weren’t telling and references they made that went over my head. Like when Marco mentioned “after Dad got locked up” and Tony quickly changed the subject.

I wanted to get back to the dad locked up thing, but I didn’t push it. The topic clearly made Rhett uncomfortable. And I had to remember we were in mixed company. The bloggers that had suddenly decided to stick around weren’t here for the wine. I had a feeling they were already working on their blog posts.

“Where is your family?” Sal asked.

“New York.”

“Oh yeah?” Marco asked. He suddenly seemed interested, like maybe he knew my family.

I was pretty certain he didn’t.

“My family’s actually really wonderful. My dad is the one who got me on the tour.”

“Rhett didn’t try and snatch you up?”

I almost laughed. “Not even a little.”

One of the guys shoved him. “What’s wrong with you? Look at this girl!”

I smiled at the playful ribbing. Rhett looked like he wanted to run.

“I’ve had such an incredible time this month with Rhett. I’ve been learning so much about cooking and the restaurant business.” I glanced at him, catching the way his expression softened slightly despite his obvious discomfort with the whole situation. “But I’m really excited to go home for Thanksgiving. It’s always been my favorite holiday.”

“What’s the menu like?” Marco asked, genuinely interested. “Your old man must put together quite a spread.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You know, everyone assumes Dad does all the cooking because he’s the famous chef, but Thanksgiving is actually Mom’s time to shine. It’s the one meal of the year where she kicks him out of the kitchen entirely.”