Page 78 of A Sudden Romance

The drapes slid open as Jameson called Sherry. “A part-time sous-chef at the Contrite Resort right here in town.”

Clapping erupted. They must have a hometown crowd.

“Vylo.”

The redhead screeched dramatically as she took her place next to Sherry behind the second makeshift counter.

“And Sabastian....”

Sabastian sucked in a breath, keeping his hands to his side as he strode to the last spot at the far counter. In between counters were stoves, and steam rose from the pots on the burners. Perhaps they were giving them a jump start for whatever unexpected meal they were going to ask them to cook.

Knowing the chefs competing against him matched his experience level set his mind at ease. Perhaps he could win this. He didn’t have to strain his eyes through the blinding stage lights to know Iris was in the audience cheering for him.

“All right, chefs.” Microphone in hand, Jameson faced them. “Today, for our first round, you’ll be making an appetizer. In the second round, you’ll present an entrée with a side, and during the final round—saving the best for last—dessert. The theme is comfort food. Mashed potatoes have to be added or used as an ingredient in every course you prepare today.”

Come to dessert, mashed potatoes were a strange ingredient.

“Each dish will receive a maximum of ten points from our judges.” Jameson waved to the three judges, two men and a woman. “After the third course, the chef with the highest points wins fifty thousand dollars.”

The host then pointed to the tall black wire shelves on their left. “You have thirty-five minutes to create your appetizers. The clock starts now!”

Sabastian scrambled following the two chefs to the shelves, all in search of ingredients.

Having his station on the opposite side of the shelves and refrigerators was going to be a problem. When he reached the shelves, the women had already snagged handfuls of potatoes, leaving the bin empty. His mind started spinning as he pulled out another black bin.

How was he going to come up with the dishes to make? Well, time to live in the moment. Jumping out of the plane might have been easier than having no idea what bin on the cart he needed to start rummaging through.

What if he wasn’t a good cook? What if he failed? He opened another bin. Leafy greens. He needed potatoes.

In the next bin, he found a package of instant potatoes. Yuck. He’d skip the mashed potatoes before he’d use instant potatoes. He continued rummaging through one box after another. Just what potato dishes could he make? Appetizer. Right. Cheddar broccoli potato soup, bacon-wrapped potato, baked potato bites... Hmm.

“Yes!” He almost fist pumped as he found a bin full of red potatoes and snatched a handful.

When he started peeling as fast as he could, the potato fell out of his hand, and he fumbled to grab another, which landed at his feet. He’d clean up the mess later. He fidgeted with the peeler as if he’d never peeled potatoes.

With his heart pounding, he was so out of his element. The stage lights glared, and the heat of several cameras zoomed in on him.

Finished peeling the potatoes, he moved to wash them in the one sink they shared. But, being behind, he had to wait until Vylo finished. Once he stepped in front of the stove, things started feeling familiar. With no time to whip up a complex appetizer, he’d make soup.

Having to work around other chefs was nerve-racking enough, but going through their stations to the fridge and carts added another thirty seconds to the trip. He gathered all the extra ingredients and managed to carry everything in one trip.

Baking bacon, dicing onions, and pressing garlic was the easiest part of the process.

The challenge was getting the potatoes to cook fast. Jameson kept shouting the countdown through the microphone, and once Sabastian heard fifteen minutes, he had to do something. The blender on his counter beckoned.

Not the best he sensed the second he dumped the potatoes into it. Not only did he undercook them but also he shouldn’t be using a blender in the first place. Except, he didn’t have time to do it any other way. He needed to spare five minutes to serve the soup in a presentable manner.

Ugh, he wasn’t thinking when he poured the broth into the blender and pressed the button. Residue splashed in his face, and what was wrong with the cameraman moving right in front of him to take a close-up of his mess?

His heart rate shot up as he yanked the cord to unplug the blender, then found the lid to cover whatever was left of his potatoes. His workstation was a total mess, but he had to finish what he started.

Minutes later, the timer buzzed, and Jameson called them to step back.

Sabastian had only managed to get two bowls fully ready. The third one didn’t have bacon topping or cheese. Not that he had any idea what the soup tasted like when he served it to the judges and they inquired about the ingredients he’d used.

“I don’t see cheddar or bacon on my soup,” the female judge with the unfinished dish commented, and Sabastian could only nod.

During their twenty-minute break while the judges tasted the soup, the women chatted, and Sabastian paced. Just how had he let Iris convince him that coming to the show was a good idea?

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