Page 29 of Chef's Kiss at the Chalet
“Sounds nice,” I said.
“Charles, though . . .” Her voice drifted off as I glanced back from the sink to look at her. “I don’t know. Grew out of it, I guess.”
“I can’t imagine outgrowing a place like this,” I said. As far as I could tell, it was perfect. “Did something happen?”
I regretted the question as soon as I asked it.
Amelia’s expression turned guarded. “No, nothing in particular. Anyway, I should get some sleep, it’s late.”
She abruptly finished her milk and picked up her plate to leave. I’d overstepped, and now it was awkward. Nice as Amelia was, we weren’t friends. She was, by extension, my employer. A certain professional distance was required.
Still, I didn’t have time to linger on it. I’d promised Amelia croissants. So, I put on a pot of coffee and pulled a bag of flour from the pantry to get to work. This was about to be a long night.
Chapter 12
“Why. Won’t. You. Rise?” I growled through gritted teeth, poking at the spoiled croissant dough with exhausted frustration.
Then, to add insult to injury, my stomach rumbled, but I had to ignore it. I was too busy prepping, and stressing. I had been at this for hours, and my normally steady hands were trembling, nerves and hunger making everything worse. I wiped a smear of flour across my forehead and blinked back tears of aggravation.
“Okay, dough. We’ve got one more shot at this and you can’t fail me now,” I said, wagging a finger at the ingredients lined up before me.
Just then, the sound of the back door opening caught my attention. It was followed by boots stomping on the tiles and I nervously looked at my watch. It was nearly 2 a.m. Who else could be lurking around at this hour?
The kitchen door swung open to reveal Charles dusting snow from his shoulders. The sight of those dimples and broad shoulders sent an immediate jolt through my body that I wasn’t prepared for. Like getting smacked in the head with a staggeringly handsome snowball. Which then made me acutely aware of myself to an uncomfortable degree.
“Oh.” Charles stopped short at the threshold to the kitchen. He pulled off his beanie cap and shook the frost from his hair. Flakes of snow fell to his blue flannel shirt and melted. “Hi.”
“Um, hi.”
We both stood there, awkward and silent like a couple of racoons caught in the porch lights while rummaging through the trash cans. And the only thing I could think was I must look horrendous right now. I was sweating, covered in egg and flour, trying my best to plaster on a neutral expression. How did one approach this encounter in a professional manner, after I’d done my best to avoid him thus far?
“I’ve clearly interrupted something.” He glanced around at the catastrophe that had consumed the kitchen. “Or we’ve been robbed by the Cookie Monster.”
I don’t know if it was what he said that set me off, or the adorable grin that grew over his lips when he said it, but suddenly a switch flipped inside me.
“Seriously?” I scoffed at his irritatingly charming attempt at defusing the tension. Like that grin had gotten him out of plenty of trouble, and I was just another bump on the golden road that was his perfect life.
“Excuse me?” he said.
I mean, where the hell did he get off, pretending that finding each other here wasn’t massively humiliating? Especially for me.
The anger bubbled up inside me, boiling over. I’d run right up on the tipping point, and it was all coming out now.
“Of course you’re here right now.” I wadded up the wet dough from the flour-covered island. It was useless now. “Because that’s all I need.”
“Rough night?” he asked, clearing his throat and rolling up his sleeves to reveal well-toned forearms.
“That’s all you have to say to me?” My hands still wrist-deep in dough, I considered throwing it at him. “Unbelievable.”
Charles sighed. “I suppose we’re due a conversation.”
“You think?” I laughed sarcastically.
He helped himself to the wine rack, pulling out a bottle of red and easily finding a bottle opener in a drawer. “To be fair, I did try to have the conversation earlier tonight, but you vanished. I was just as surprised as you were the other day. More so, maybe.”
“Doubt that.”
Next, he found two wine glasses and poured, placing one next to me. I left it sitting there beside my little ant hill of flour while he sipped his.
