Page 2 of Say Yes to the Chef

It’s been a long time since I did anything for myself.

And the girls are right, they won’t even be here. Which means I’d be spending Christmas utterly and truly alone.

Wouldn’t I rather do that on a white sand beach with a drink in my hand?

Marco

It takes the full force of my will to focus on what the Executive Chef explains to me in the chaos of the resort’s main kitchen. Even with the way she can project her voice over the din, I struggle to hear her.

But it’s not even the pandemonium of the kitchens that has me unable to focus today. My mind spins in a million different directions. I can’t say I’m having second thoughts; I’m not. But Iamsweating profusely and I haven’t eaten a thing all day.

Even Michelin-starred chefs get nervous.

Transferring from a quaint, high-end Oaxacan restaurant in the states to this behemoth of a tropical resort was…

Well, something else entirely.

And tonight came far faster than I anticipated.

I’m the first of a selection of rotating chefs that will showcase their recipes for twelve resort guests six nights each week. Once I’ve finished my two-month residency, another chef will take my place, and after their two months, another one still. The Chef’s Table Dining Experience will be me, my recipes, and the focused attention of twelve rotating strangers.

It would be unnatural to not have nerves and fear.

But I didn’t get to where I am by being careful or playing it safe.

Lucy blows a breath of air up her face, displacing her bangs from her eyes as she stares at me with an expression that says I’ve missed something she’s just said. I cringe and motion toward her. “Lo siento, Chef. I’m listening.”

She huffs and I bite back a smile. The woman is all of five feet tall, but has the power of a giant in those narrowed brown eyes, and her sharp tongue has made grown men cry.

To be fair, it was my first week here, I was beyond overwhelmed, and she’d surprised me with her ferocity. I’d also fucked up royally and being called out in front of the entire kitchen crew is not my greatest moment to date.

But I’d like to think we’ve come a long way in the few weeks since then. Present moment of drifting too deeply into my thoughts excluded, of course.

“Chef,” she says, though the word is more of a deep sigh than an actual title. “You have to focus.”

I nod. “I am. Iam. This is just…” I scan the kitchen and meet her gaze again. “A lot.”

“You’re ready for this, Marco.”

I give her another nod and straighten my shoulders. Iamready for this, nerves be damned. “Yes, Chef.”

I push all thoughts aside, block out the ruckus of a kitchen preparing meals for hundreds of hotel guests, and focus on my boss as she begins to lead me toward the door.

“Okay, we have to go through the menu with Luis and Palo, but first we have to inspect the chef’s table. Everything is in place; we just need your go ahead.”

I nod and follow closely behind Lucy as she leads me away from the kitchen and out through the main corridors of the resort. We’re taking the long way, but Lucy insisted that I see every preparation exactly as the guests will see them tonight, down to how they will approach the chef’s dining room and what they will see upon arrival.

We slip through a set of double doors off to the side of the gardens and are instantly surrounded by the shrill call of birds above us and the loud chatter that accompanies every Saturday—the busiest day of the week, when our timeshare guests check in and out.

The way this hotel is set up, the entire lobby is inside, covered and protected from the elements, but trees stretch up along the perimeter of the room, creating a canopy above, while streams and fountains surround the circular lobby, complete with koi fish and tiny turtles. It’s truly magnificent, this greenhouse on steroids, but loud.

Lucy cringes as we stride through the lobby on our way to the other side and the Chef’s Table Dining Room entrance beyond. This spitfire of a woman, as fierce as she is, has a fear of itty bitty birds. As we cross to the other side of the massive arboretum, Lucy stops at the concierge’s desk to speak with him briefly, and I take that moment to scan the lobby.

And then I freeze, completely immobilized by what can only be described as the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

She stands in the center of the gardens, head tilted back to gaze up at the canopy of trees, a look of absolute, innocent abandon on her face. Dark hair hangs down her back in loose curls, and her sun-kissed tawny skin glistens beneath a sheen of sweat.

Wearing a loose-fitting dress does nothing to hide the wicked curve of her full hips or the heavy swell of her breasts.

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