Page 4 of The Marriage Mission

"Nobody can do it faster and better than Henry."

"If she doesn't want me, I'll leave," said Noah.

Jacqui did not want him to leave. Which was probably why he should.

"Jed's Grits and Grub has been opened for a month now, and it's impacting dinner service. We're already running at two-thirds our capacity. Henry will have us up in two weeks. Anyone else will take three at best."

Gone was the soothing sense Jacqui had gotten from Noah Henry. Gone was the tender look in his eyes. What replaced it was a cocky expression. She needed him, and he knew it. Which meant he was going to take advantage at some point. He could try, but she would be dogging his every step. If she could manage to find the time to do it.

"Fine," she said.

"Fine," he said.

"Just don't screw anything else up. I'm headed out. Food prep needs to be done by the time I get back. I will be checking everyone's work."

Jacqui marched out the back door. It wasn't until the cool morning breeze wafted up her nostrils that she realized she was holding her breath. Noah Henry's scent had made her dizzy and lightheaded. The feeling didn't pass as she headed down the street.

ChapterThree

Noah found his gaze following Jacqui as she left the kitchen. She looked as good going as she had coming. Those curves of hers were silhouetted, swaying as she easily picked her way through the people and appliances in the dim lighting, like she knew this place like the back of her hand. Noah's fingers twitched at his sides, a reflexive urge to reach out, to pull her back into the circle of his arms where they had shared an unexpected connection.

She'd fit perfectly against him. He swore he'd heard a lock click into place. Or more likely the zing when he cut a wire. If he had acted on that impulse to pull her back to him, it would've likely been like cutting the wrong wire. Somehow, the thought of an explosion between himself and Jacqui Chou didn't sound like a bad idea.

She was prickly, that much was clear. The type of woman who wore her independence like armor, who likely viewed men as either obstacles to be navigated or tools to be used in the pursuit of her goals. He wouldn't mind her stepping on him in those heels to get a leg up. In fact, his lower back warmed at the prospect.

As Jacqui's retreating figure disappeared from view, the atmosphere in the kitchen noticeably shifted. The tension that had coiled tight around the space began to unwind. One by one faces appeared, shoulders were turned and profiles revealed. Bodies came out of the dark recesses of the kitchen as staff started to filter back in, their expressions all bright with relief.

"Man, I wasn't sure you were going to survive that." A brown-skinned woman with a braid woven around the crown of her head dusted her hand on her pristine apron. "Most folks get fired before they even know what hit 'em. She usually fires first and asks questions later—or sometimes, she doesn't bother asking at all."

"Guys, this is Noah. He's an old Army buddy. He'll be working on the electrical." Fish stepped up to make the introductions. "This is Nia. She's in charge of the fry station. And Aarav is the saucier. Behind you is Elena at the grill station. And Liam is the prep cook."

A bubbly brunette winked at Noah, while a young man who looked like he couldn't have graduated high school gave Noah a chin lift greeting.

"You missed Larry," said Aarav. "He was fired last week when Chef caught him using the wrong sauce in the Kung Pao Chicken. He was out the door before dinner service even started."

That seemed a big error to Noah. Seemed Larry got what he deserved if he couldn't follow instructions, which is what a recipe was.

"And that waitress Sarah," Elena added as she flipped meat on the grill, "mixed up the dessert orders during the Valentine's rush. I've never seen Chef so mad. Sarah didn't last the night."

Seemed to Noah that Sarah should not have been a waitress. When wires got crossed, bad things happened. Sarah was lucky it was sugar and not trinitrotoluene that she mixed up. That powdery substance better known as TNT made things go boom.

The stories continued, each one painting a picture of Jacqui's stern leadership and zero-tolerance policy for mistakes. Yet as Noah listened, he felt a growing respect for the woman they all referred to as Chef. Like she was Madonna or Cher. Leading a busy team where people's lives were in their hands required discipline. Food could nourish, but it could also kill.

As the horror stories swirled around him, Noah found himself more intrigued than deterred. Chef Jacqui's approach, though harsh, appeared to stem from a place of passion for her craft and a desire for excellence. There was a fire in Jacqui, a relentless drive that matched his own experiences in the military. Where others saw a boss quick to judge and dismiss, Noah saw a leader pushing her team toward greatness, albeit with a heavy hand.

The way her staff shared tales of survival under her regime clearly bonded them in a way only those who've faced the same battle could understand. The men and women widened their circle, allowing Noah to become part of it. Noah took a step back.

"I’d better get back to it," he said. "Catch you later, Fish."

"All right, Henry."

"Wait," called Nia. "Your name's Noah Henry?"

"Two first names," said Elena. "Sounds too good to be true. Just like a catfish."

Elena gave him another wink. The steam rising to her face would've made another woman look tired and frazzled. It cast a glow about her features. Noah wasn't interested.

Too bad Elena wasn't done. "You're the bomb expert? So that's why you survived meeting Chef Jacqui, huh?"

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