Page 31 of The Marriage Mission

Her crew jolted like cockroaches caught before a can of Raid.

"And why are these carrots looking like they've been chopped by a lawnmower? I need precision, people. We're creating fine dining cuisine here, not serving up a backyard barbecue."

The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. The sizzle of the frying pans and the aromatic blend of spices in the air couldn't mask the sudden edge in Jacqui's commands. Her staff exchanged wary glances. Their movements became rigid under her sharp gaze.

"Uh, excuse me, Chef?"

Jacqui turned and came face to face with her young prep cook. Liam approached her with a cutting board laden with vegetables.

"Chef, could you check these julienne cuts for the garnish?"

The kid was still new to the kitchen, fresh out of a culinary program in high school with a framed certificate. He still had that novice smell about him; he didn't yet smell like fear.

Jacqui leaned over the cutting board, scrutinizing the thin strips of bell pepper that lay neatly aligned. "Too big," she said crisply, picking up one strip and holding it up for him to see. "For a garnish, we need delicacy. These are too robust."

She glanced around, spotting a clean knife. Her hand reached for it. But as her fingertips grazed the handle, her knuckles twitched. Her hand hovered over the handle, but as she gripped it, a slight tremor ran through her fingers. The knife felt alien, heavy, too real. With a barely perceptible sigh, she set it back down, masking her reaction with a quick, professional frown of a head chef who no longer needed to prep in their own kitchen.

"Hold the knife like this," Jacqui instructed, adjusting his grip. "You want to make confident, controlled cuts. Use your knuckles as a guide to keep the cuts consistent, and protect your fingers." She watched closely as Liam repositioned his hand according to her direction.

"Now try to slice through the pepper with a smooth, rolling motion," she continued, demonstrating the motion in the air with her own hand. "Apply just enough pressure to cut through the vegetable but keep it light enough to make thin, delicate strips. These are for garnishing, so they need to be fine and even."

Liam nodded, his eyes focused intently on the pepper as he tried again, this time with Jacqui's technique in mind. He carefully adjusted his stance and began slicing with a newfound precision. Jacqui observed, ready to give further guidance but pleased to see his immediate improvement.

"That’s much better," Jacqui said approvingly after a few moments, examining the new batch of julienned peppers. "See how much more refined they look? That’s what you’re aiming for—a garnish that complements the dish, both visually and texturally."

"Yes, Chef."

Jacqui examined his work, her critical eye noting the precision in the cuts. "Good job, Liam."

Liam's face lit up with a proud grin at her praise. Jacqui couldn’t bring herself to return the smile. She turned away, her heart heavy.

Cooking had once been her sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in flavors and textures, where her hands confidently created and expressed her passion. But now each touch of the knife brought a surge of memories, a reminder of a time when the kitchen was her whole world. It wasn't just about the food; it was about who she had been when she was creating it.

She thought about the last dish she'd made in her parents' house. No child should be asked to make a parent's last meal. But she'd done it. And she hadn't picked up her knife since.

ChapterTwenty-One

Noah wiped the sweat off his brow. The wiring work wasn't hard, it was just hot in here at the back of a full-service restaurant. Still, his movements were practiced and precise. The air around him buzzed not just with the hum of electricity, but with his own quiet anticipation.

The sun was starting to dip in the sky. He'd have to go home soon. Home with his wife. To her bed.

He had no doubt that he and Jacqui would start out on opposite sides of the mattress again. He had every faith that wouldn't last long. He'd seen her snuggle toward him and then into him in the middle of the night. Maybe tonight, he wouldn't keep his hands to himself.

Noah still tasted the sweet cream of milk from her mouth. It soothed his tongue, his senses. A part of him couldn't wait to spark another flare of that spicy temper that he found so irresistibly charming.

He twisted the last of the copper wires together, securing them with a professional flick of his wrist. He was almost done with the job. He'd finish much sooner than anticipated.

Now his mind raced ahead, planning out the rest of his day, eager to see Jacqui. He mulled over what to say to her next. What comment might draw out that fire in her eyes that he was becoming so addicted to? Perhaps he’d tease her about her overprotective attitude toward the dessert menu, or maybe he’d rearrange the pens on her desk—anything to see the passion in her response. Or maybe he wouldn't say anything at all, and just sit quietly with her.

He could tell she needed that. Jacqui barked out so many orders, balanced the books, marshaled the livelihoods of all within these walls and some outside. She had a lot on her shoulders. Those slender shoulders and that swan's neck. He'd take off some of that load. Whether she liked it or not.

Lost in his thoughts and the rhythmic motion of his hands, Noah failed to notice that one of the wires had frayed. As he connected another wire to the junction box, his fingers brushed against the exposed copper. A sharp spark shot out, a bright burst of light accompanied by a biting snap.

Noah jerked his hand back in reflex, a sting of pain racing up his arm. He stared at his fingers, surprised by the sudden jolt. Then, almost involuntarily, a laugh bubbled up from his chest. He shook his head, amused at himself for getting caught off guard like that. Here he was, a seasoned handyman, daydreaming to the point of distraction— all because of a woman who’d turned his world delightfully upside down.

Shaking off the minor shock, Noah inspected his hand. It was fine, just a little singed, but it would serve as a funny story to share with Jacqui later. He could already imagine her scolding him for being careless, her brows furrowed in concern, masking the depth of her care for him, a care she was so reluctant to show.

He wrapped up the wiring, securing everything into place and ensuring no more exposed surprises. The small shock was a trivial price to pay for the joy that bubbled up in him now, living this new life. He anticipated returning to Jacqui’s side— to tease, to provoke, to take care of her in a thousand small ways.

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