Page 8 of The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen

"It's no imposition. Honestly, your daughter has better kitchen skills than half my staff." There's a muffled shout in the background. "Present company excluded, of course, Georgia!"

Another voice chimes in: "I heard that, boss!"

He laughs again. "Sorry, morning rush is starting. But seriously, send Mia down. My mom will be here soon too. She usually helps with breakfast service."

"Alright," I concede. "I'll walk her down in ten minutes."

"Perfect. Coffee will be waiting for you."

I end the call, turning to Mia's expectant face. "Yes, you can go. But first, brush your teeth and make your bed."

She races to the bathroom without a single complaint. That’s a minor miracle in itself.

Twenty minutes later, we're walking through the spacious lobby of Mountain Laurel Lodge. The morning light streams through tall windows, highlighting the rustic charm of the space. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, while comfortable seating areas are arranged throughout. It's beautiful in a lived-in, authentic way that's nothing like the sleek modern hotels I usually book for business trips.

"Good morning!" A tall, energetic man at the front desk waves as we pass. His name tag reads "Jameson Callahan."

"Another Callahan?" I murmur.

"Morning!" Mia calls back, already familiar with the staff after just one day.

The smell of bacon and coffee guides us to the dining area, where several early risers from my executive team are already enjoying breakfast. Andrea spots me and waves us over.

"Jules! And little Miss Mia! Join us!"

Before I can respond, Mia spots Declan through the pass-through window to the kitchen and takes off running.

"Declan! I'm here!"

"Walk, please!" I call after her, but she's already disappeared through the swinging kitchen door.

Andrea smirks over her coffee cup. "Looks like someone has a new friend."

"It's a temporary arrangement," I say, sliding into a seat at their table.

"So we heard." Andrea's smirk widens. "We also heard the chef has been quite the hero, entertaining Mia yesterday."

I reach for the coffee pot in the center of the table. "He's been helpful."

"And easy on the eyes," Lisa from marketing adds, stirring her oatmeal. "Single too, according to the front desk gossip."

"I didn't ask about his relationship status," I say stiffly.

Andrea and Lisa exchange knowing glances that I choose to ignore. Before they can pursue this unwelcome line of conversation, the kitchen door swings open, and Mia emerges, proudly wearing a white apron with "Sous Chef Mia" written across the chest in slightly wobbly letters.

"Mom! Look what Declan made me!"

"I see that. Very professional."

Mia beams, then turns to the others. "I have to go back to work now. We're making blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup."

"Work, huh?" Andrea raises an eyebrow. "Sounds like child labor to me."

"It's fun!" Mia insists. "And educational. I'm learning fractions."

Before she dashes back to the kitchen, Declan appears carrying a tray. His dark hair is damp at the temples fromkitchen heat, and there's a dusting of flour on his black t-shirt. The chef's coat from yesterday is gone, replaced by the more casual shirt and dark jeans. It's a good look on him, I notice before I can stop myself.

"Breakfast for the executive team," he announces, setting down a platter of pastries. "And special delivery for Ms. Sinclair."

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