My friend and fellow server, Rick, appears at my locker as I hang up my jacket and purse. “The Dish himself has requested everyone come into the restaurant to go over tonight’s specials.”
“Chef Stevens is doing the specials himself tonight?” That has just made my day. On the nights he’s working, there’s an electricity in the air—the aromas of foods and a dream of cooking with the best ingredients money can buy. He spares no expense when it comes to this restaurant.
“It’s cute the way you geek out over him. I’d eat anything he offered me, that’s for sure, crawling on my hands and knees with my mouth wide open.”
“Thanks for the visual.”
I pull a notepad and pen from my purse and make my way into the dining room to taste magic on a plate.
Everyone is huddled around, hushed whispers of anticipation as Chef Stevens emerges from the kitchen in his chef’s whites, and a jolt of electricity goes straight to my core. I’ve noticed he’s hot before, but all the stuff Jude was saying about him as I left for work has me hot under the collar. He has olive skin, sun-kissed by the gods, and the tightly corded muscles of his forearms highlight perfectly as he sets plates down on one of the tables. The food presentation is a work of art, and the aroma in here is incredible.
“Tonight, you’re all going to taste the specials we’ll be offering. I want you to know exactly what you’re giving my customers. Some of you are getting sloppy in your service, andthis is your wakeup call. If you don’t step up your game, you’re out the door. I have put everything I have into this place, and I expect perfection.”
I quietly slip through my co-workers to a space right in front of him as he describes the dishes he’s prepared. I can’t help licking my lips at the mouthwatering food before me and the chef who made it.
“Do you want to try the steak? Aspen… is it?” He remembers my name.
“I would love to. It’s wagyu, right?”
“You know your steak,” he says with a panty-melting grin.
I quickly jot down the cut and everything I see on the plate before he hands me a fork and a steak knife. “Let’s see if you can identify how it was seasoned.”
I take the cutlery and slice a small piece. As I slip it into my mouth, his eyes are trained on me, setting my pulse racing. The meat melts on my tongue, it’s so tender. Before I catch it, an audible moan escapes me.
My co-workers start giggling, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“You can all shut the fuck up. Just because you don’t know your ass from your elbow when it comes to food, it doesn’t mean you get to be derisive to one of my employees.”
I cast my gaze to the floor, hugging my notepad, as if it will shield me from the stares.
“So, Aspen, what do you taste?”
“It’s simple. Elegant. Salt and pepper. Some balsamic vinegar… aceto. There’s a hint of… rosemary?”
“Perfect. Now, try the vegetables.” I do as I’m told without hesitation, and it’s even better than the steak. The flavors explode in my mouth like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“Oh my God. They taste amazing.” Asparagus and brussels sprouts. Not exactly a go-to for me when I’m cooking, but these are divine.
“Elaborate. What are the ingredients?”
“Olive oil. Roasted walnuts, pecans… and Brazil nuts. There’s a hint of garlic, and…”
“Go on.” His eyes darken, fixed on my lips, and everyone else in the room ceases to exist.
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s not a test, Aspen. It is okay to hazard a guess.”
“I want to say Japanese curry salt.”
“Fuck me.” He scrapes his hand over his five o’clock shadow.
My brain is screaming.Yes. Fuck me. Please.
“You’re spot on. I brought it back from Tokyo last summer.”
“Teacher’s pet.” Someone sniggers behind me, but in this moment, I don’t care. Seeing Chef Stevens’ delight is elating. They can all kick rocks for all I care.
