Page 12 of A Recipe for Romance

He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to talk to her. He needed to clear the air, to put some distance between them before things spiraled out of control.

Just as he started toward her, a voice interrupted him. “Chef Carlson!”

Drew stifled a groan as Jake, one of the younger contestants, bounded up to him, holding a misshapen heirloom tomato.

“What do you think of these?”

“They’re... great,” Drew muttered distractedly, barely glancing at the tomato. “Lots of flavor. Excuse me.” He sidestepped the contestant, his gaze locked on Kelsi, but just as he closed the distance between them, another obstacle appeared.

“Drew!” Evan’s perfectly styled figure blocked his path, his trademark grin plastered across his face. “Just the man I was looking for.”

Not now. Not now, not now. “What is it, Evan?” Drew’s tone was clipped, but Evan, as usual, seemed oblivious.

“I’ve got this brilliant idea for next week’s challenge,” Evan began, clearly unfazed by Drew’s growing impatience. “Molecular gastronomy, but with a—”

“Not now, Evan,” Drew snapped, his patience finally slipping. He tried to move around him, but Evan shifted to block his way again.

“Just hear me out,” Evan pressed, undeterred. “This could really elevate the—”

“I said not now,” Drew growled, frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Over Evan’s shoulder, Kelsi was starting to drift further away, her attention focused on the contestant next to her. The sight twisted something sharp inside him, and he felt the sudden, urgent need to close the distance between them before it was too late.

Evan’s smile faltered, surprise flickering in his eyes. “I... I just thought—”

Drew exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about it later, okay? Just not now.”

Without waiting for a response, he brushed past Evan and started weaving through the crowd, his attention solely on Kelsi. His mind raced with the words he’d rehearsed, the excuses he’d made for why this couldn’t happen between them. It was dangerous. It was unprofessional. It was everything he shouldn’t want—but he did. He wanted it more than anything, and that scared the hell out of him.

Just as he was about to reach her, a sound stopped him in his tracks—a soft, lilting laugh that sent warmth spreading through his chest. Kelsi’s laugh. She was standing in a quieter corner of the market, chatting with an elderly vendor, cradling a bunch of fragrant basil in her arms. The sight of her, so full of life and enthusiasm, made something inside him crack.

Drew’s heart gave a heavy, uneven thud as he took a step toward her. How had it come to this? How had she gone from just another contestant to someone he couldn’t stop thinking about? It was like she’d slipped past all his defenses without him even noticing.

"...and my mom used to make this amazing pesto," Kelsi was saying, her voice light and animated. "She’d add just a touch of lemon zest to brighten it up. It was—oh!”

She noticed him then, her smile faltering slightly, the spark in her eyes dimming. Drew’s stomach twisted at the sudden shift. Had he pushed her too far?

“Chef Carlson,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “Did you need something?”

The formality stung, a reminder of the distance he’d unintentionally created. “I was hoping we could talk,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “About the other day.”

Kelsi’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced down at the basil in her hands. “Oh, that’s really not necessary. We should probably get back to the—”

“Please,” Drew interrupted, surprising even himself with the urgency in his voice. “Just give me a minute.”

She hesitated, her brows knitting together in confusion, but finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

They stepped away from the vendor, an awkward silence stretching between them. Drew cleared his throat, his mind spinning. How was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to tell her that he wanted her, but he couldn’t have her—that he was terrified of what this could mean for both of them?

“So, your mom’s pesto recipe,” he blurted, grasping for anything to say. “It sounds... interesting.”

Kelsi blinked, clearly thrown by the sudden change of subject. “Oh, um, yeah. It was her signature dish. She used to make it every Sunday.”

“Used to?” Drew asked softly, noting the way Kelsi’s voice softened.

Her smile turned wistful, a shadow passing over her face. “She passed away a few years ago. Cooking her recipes... it’s how I stay close to her, you know?”

The vulnerability in her eyes hit Drew like a punch to the gut. He understood that feeling all too well—the desperate need to hold onto something, to keep a piece of the ones you’ve lost. All the walls he’d built around himself, the distance he’d kept between his emotions and his work—it all started to crumble in that moment.

“I do know,” he said quietly, his throat tightening. “My dad... he taught me everything I know about cooking. When he died, I thought the best way to honor him was to perfect his recipes, to follow his techniques exactly. But now...”

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