Page 102 of The Nanny and the Hothead
The man’s eyes widened. “Is that true?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“You used to steal cars?” Charlotte asked, a strange sort of surprise written all over her face.
He glanced at the teens, then focused on Charlotte. “I did. I made mistakes as a kid, but then I found a better path.” He waited for her reaction—waited to see the disappointment in her eyes. But that’s not what he got—far from it.
“That’s incredible, Mitch!” She beamed. “I had no idea what you’d overcome to get where you are.”
A sudden lightness came over him as relief surged through his veins. In the last seventy-two hours, she’d gotten a look at every facet of his life—every secret exposed, every fault of character cracked wide open. And she was still here with such tenderness in her eyes. It took everything he had not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until he couldn’t see straight.
“Sergio and I are working on our GEDs,” Erick continued.
“That’s excellent,” he answered. He had to focus.
“Then we want to apply to culinary school,” Sergio finished.
“Sound familiar?” Ralph observed, knowing damned well it was the way he, Holly, and Seth had started out.
“What do you say, Mitch? I spoke with Ines. She shared the list of scheduled stops for the truck so far. Sergio’s caseworker has signed off on him getting in his community service by assisting with the food truck.”
“And I’m in, too,” Erick chimed.
Mitch’s jaw damn near hit the pavement. “You want to work for me again?”
The young man lifted his chin. “I want to become a chef, and I want to learn from the best.”
“And Erick’s survived cooking under Louise’s demanding eye,” Ralph teased.
But the man wasn’t wrong. He’d learned as much under Louise as he’d gotten out of what time he’d spent in culinary school before dropping out to start Say Cheese, Louise.
“I think it’s a terrific idea,” Charlotte said, those emerald eyes of hers shining with such tenderness it took his breath away.
She was right. It was.
He cleared his throat. It was time to get down to business. He pointed the spatula at the young men. “Do you both know how to prepare the Signature Louise sandwich?”
“Yes, Chef,” the teens replied in unison.
“And I know how you like orders to be taken,” Erick offered. “I watched the servers at the Crystal Cricket. I saw the tickets. I already showed Serg how to do it. We know what’s expected of us.”
They were hungry for experience, but he still had to lay down the law.
“You’ll learn that cooking in a food truck isn’t the same as working in a commercial kitchen. It’s a tight space. There are plenty of opportunities to screw up and get hurt. Stand where I tell you to stand. Do what I tell you to do. You’ll work in shifts. One with me, prepping and preparing the sandwiches. The other at the window, taking orders.”
“Yes, Chef,” they exclaimed. He could hear the thread of exhilaration in their voices. He understood it. That was him once, standing under the watchful eye of Louise Dagby.
“Both jobs are important,” he continued. “Don’t look at working the window as a demotion or as a break. Interacting with the people you cook for is as important as the cooking,” he said, then glanced at Louise—the person who’d taught him that it didn’t matter who he was cooking for. The woman nodded—barely a perceptible movement. But he caught it. He looked between the teens. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a guy off the streets or a polished businessman in a three-piece suit. The task is the same. Craft the best possible experience. Food is life. Food is connection.”
He wasn’t sure when he’d forgotten that or when he’d allowed resentment to swallow him whole. He released a slow breath as a clicking sound peppered the air. He peered over at Charlotte. She snapped another shot, then lowered her Nikon. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The warmth in her emerald eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was there for him—there to capture this forgotten part of him.
“Um, Chef, should we start prepping?” Erick asked, cutting into his Charlotte swoon-fest.
She lifted the camera to her eye, and it was time for him to get to work as well.
“Wash up,” he ordered. “Erick, you’re with me. Sergio, you’ll take the window.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Ralph remarked with an approving nod.
