“Yes. I feel it.” God, I can hardly breathe with his skin touching mine.
“Right. Now, we season.” I follow every step to the letter, his finesse so enthralling.
“Can I ask why you chose Himalayan pink salt?”
“It’s less processed than regular sea salt. It retains more minerals, which adds to the taste.” My face lights up. I love learning new things.
“Wow. That’s so cool.” I continue to prepare the fish, aware that his eyes are on me. “Do I have something on my face?”
“What? No.” He’s caught off guard. “I’ve just never met anyone as enthusiastic about food before. Or were you being sarcastic?”
I giggle. “I was being serious. You must not be hanging out with the right people. Food is so much more than fuel for our bodies. It’s…”
“Art,” we say in unison.
I smile up at him, my pulse racing.
“Then, let’s make some edible art tonight.”
We fall into companionable silence while I watch him work. He has complete control in his kitchen, as it should be. Everyone works together like a well-oiled machine, and I become a cog in this living, breathing wonder.
Chef Stevens commands while encouraging everyone, and it shows in the flawless dishes being served by the waitstaff. By the end of the evening, the atmosphere is electric, and I’m so buzzed I feel like I could run a marathon.
“Great work tonight, everyone. It was a pleasure.”
The staff gives him a round of applause, and I can only hope that one day I can inspire my staff.
When the cleaning is finished, the staff filters out of the kitchen, but Chef Stevens calls my name. “Aspen, can I talk to you for a moment?” Shit. Did I do something wrong?
“Yes, Chef?”
“You did well tonight. I love that you’re not afraid to ask questions.”
“I’m sorry if some of them were stupid. I just want to learn as much as possible.”
“There are no stupid questions. Truly. I admire your vigor.”
“Thank you,” I say shyly.
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll drive you home.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“I’m aware.” His tone leaves no room for discussion, but I’m perplexed by his offer. Again.
“Do you often give staff a ride home?”
“You’re the first.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know you get home safely.”
“Why me? Why do you care?”
“I finally have someone to impart a little wisdom to. I can’t have you getting mugged or worse on your way home. It’s purely selfish.”
I fight to control my face. I want to smile ear to ear, unable to meet his gaze.
