Page 8 of A Recipe for Romance

Drew Carlson had liked her post.

Kelsi’s heart skipped a beat, a small smile curling on her lips as she drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, she danced between tradition and innovation, bridging worlds, one recipe at a time.

Chapter 6: Drew

The rhythmic choppingof Drew’s knife against the cutting board usually quieted the chaos in his mind, but today it only sharpened it. He couldn’t stop replaying Kelsi’s smile from the reinvention challenge—how the corners of her lips curved as she’d beamed at him. The warmth it stirred in his chest was both thrilling and unsettling. With it came a gnawing anxiety that twisted tighter each time he let his mind wander back to her.

“Chef Carlson?”

Drew’s focus snapped back, his knife stilling. Emma, one of the younger contestants, stood before him, wringing her hands. “I was wondering if you could taste my sauce. Something’s off, but I can’t figure out what.”

He wiped his hands, nodded, and took the spoon she offered. As he tasted the sauce, his mind slipped again—back to Kelsi’s dish, the way she’d taken his suggestion and turned it into something extraordinary, like she was capable of elevating everything she touched. He couldn’t remember the last time a simple flavor combination had made him feel something.

“Chef?”

Emma’s uncertain voice pulled him back, and Drew set the spoon down, his brows furrowing. “It needs acid,” he said, his tone gruffer than he meant it to be. “Add a splash of vinegar or some citrus. And don’t be afraid to trust your instincts.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Thank you, Chef!” she said quickly, and hurried back to her station.

Drew watched her go, frowning at his own words.Trust your instincts.When had he become the kind of chef who gave pep talks? The kind who encouraged risk rather than demanding perfection? He wasn’t supposed to be soft like this. He was supposed to be a force in the kitchen, a mentor only in the strictest sense.

When did that change?The answer flickered in his mind, clear as day. Kelsi. She’d somehow softened his edges without him realizing it, and now everything—his approach to food, to teaching—was changing.

“Well, well.” A familiar voice drawled from behind him, laced with amusement. “Drew Carlson, giving out cooking tips? What’s next, a TED talk on self-improvement?”

Drew turned to see Amelia Chen, her sharp eyes watching him like a hawk. She leaned against the counter, her smirk practically daring him to respond. His defenses rose instinctively.

“Amelia.” He kept his voice neutral. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”

She shrugged, tilting her head. “You learn a lot about people when they think the cameras are off. You’re... different lately, Drew. Softer.”

Drew’s stomach tightened. She had noticed something. “Different how?”

Amelia’s smirk widened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way a certain pink-haired influencer has you playing the role of mentor instead of hard-ass judge. You’ve gotten quite cozy, haven’t you?”

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing going on between Kelsi and me,” he said firmly, though the words felt hollow. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true.

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