Page 4 of For Butter or Worse
He didn’t think of himself as someone who could ever be disliked...until he’d met Nina. He wasextremelylikable, in large part thanks to his dad. When Leo had worked at the family restaurant during summer vacations in high school, his father said that every customer who walked through the door should be treated as family. That everyone-is-family-here attitude eventually became the slogan for their business when they opened a second location.Everyone is family herewas printed on the menus, and written in each new employee handbook.
And Leo had taken the motto to heart, even outside of work. He wanted to make his father proud, which is why in college he’d been homecoming king—his peers had voted. Votes don’t lie! When he first took over his dad’s business, he became President of the Small Business Association of Southern California and had been honored with an award for Restaurant Philanthropist of the Year...twice. Not a brag, per se, but worth noting. He’d been asked to host the Pasadena Culinary Cup Awards four years in a row—back by popular demand. And women, in particular, loved him. He’d made it onto a list of BuzzFeed’s 27 Hottest Reality Stars—number fifteen was a coveted spot! He’d never had an enemy, until now.
So he was bothered by the idea that Nina genuinely hated him. Well, more than bothered. Just that morning, he’d had a massage, stress-eaten a Double-Double from In-N-Out and listened to one of those ridiculous meditation apps. The massage was soothing, the burger delicious and the meditation app surprisingly relaxing, but still...not his usual filming day routine, and all because he couldn’t handle not knowing what mood she’d be in on set.
The truth, which he planned to take to his grave, was that he was insecure about his position on the show. He’d never attended culinary school. He had an MBA and had inherited his dad’s successful restaurant. Nina was a celebrated chef known for being innovative with food, and he’d created a chain of profitable eateries that served traditional Italian fare. He’d foolishly hoped that he and Nina would be friends when he initially came on the show, but that dream disappeared the moment she’d decided he didn’t belong there in the first place.
Leo clenched then unclenched his fists, the way his former therapist taught him. His pulse was faster than normal, and he had to get his anxiety under control. He couldn’t take a break, or retreat to his dressing room to regain his composure. They were live.
“Should I tell you about my main?” Samantha, the first contestant, asked hesitantly. “I’m making pan-seared scallops, seaweed salad and a squid-ink-infused black bun.”
That snapped Leo right back to the present.Stop fixating on Nina. He was representing the Vinny’s name, and he had a role to play—wholesome, warm, friendly. Being passive-aggressive on-air wouldn’t accomplish that.
Doing his job wasn’t much help, either, though, because the overall look of Samantha’s dish was Halloween on a plate; the black bun, green of the seaweed and orange seared tops of the scallops weren’t exactly making his mouth water. Vinny’s wasn’t a gourmet eatery, as Nina liked to remind him—“endless breadsticks aren’t something to brag about”—but his father always emphasized the importance of bringing out a good-looking plate of food to customers. Presentation mattered, but just as he always did, he’d dig deep and find some encouraging words to highlight his nice-guy persona.
“It’s a veryspoo-o-o-kysight!” Leo elongated the wordspookyin what he hoped was a comical way. Nina cleared her throat beside him, as if holding back judgment. If this was a normal taping, she’d groan in pain, like she always did at his jokes. Then he’d clench his jaw, and the director would tell everyone to cut.
“There you go with that Leo wit again...”
He glanced at Nina and swore she rolled her eyes at him.
“Nina, we’re all dying to know what a James Beard Award winner thinks. Why don’t you start?” He arched an eyebrow.Come on, insult me back.
Her nostrils flared at him before she said, “Chef Gontran Cherrier does a similar bun at his bakery in France, but it’s sweet and chocolaty. This is a unique spin on it.”
Interesting.If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he’d almost think Nina’s comment sounded like praise. But she was never generous with compliments. He, of all people, knew that.
“Chef Gon...?” Samantha began. She clearly didn’t know who Chef Cherrier was. Leo saw an opportunity to save Samantha. And, yes, he could’ve done it without throwing Nina under the bus. But where would the fun be in that? He stepped in and said, “We all know Nasty Nina likes to name-drop.”
Shit.He was aiming to poke, not tackle her. But the nickname had just slipped out, which was a surprise even to him.
Nina opened her mouth to respond, but he caught sight of Tiffany’s flailing arms out of the corner of his eye. The teleprompter lit up, and he quickly said, “We will check in with Freddie once we come back from the commercial break with our special live finale ofThe Next Cooking Champ!”
The red light of the camera went black.
Nina whipped around to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyebrows pinched together. He hadn’t realized steam could actually come out of someone’s ears, but he was fairly certain he spotted some wafting out of hers. “Did you seriously just call me that? On-air?Live?”
He could feel the heat of her breath on his skin. Goose bumps prickled up his arms and neck. He was...inexplicably excited.
Even though Nina was arrogant and a know-it-all, that didn’t stop the way his body responded to her. While—logically—he knew to keep as far away as possible, illogically, he was drawn to her. Despite her personality, she was still gorgeous—all wavy dark hair and curves that made looking away difficult. Not to mention that sometimes when she got mad, he seemed to get...moreturned on. So, yeah, he had some weird fetish for opinionated women, or something, and she happened to be exactly that. The fact that her hair always smelled like cinnamon, which made his treacherous, double-crossing impulses want to lean closer to catch a whiff, didn’t help, either...
His phone vibrated with a text from his twin brother, Gavin.Dude...chill.
Leo blinked.Right.His family was watching the show, and he clearly looked like an asshole. His brother wouldn’t have sent him a warning text otherwise.
“Nina.” His mouth went dry when he saw the hurt expression on her face, and her sagging shoulders. He’d made her feel this way, because he was a total idiot, apparently. “I shouldn’t have used your nickname, that was wrong of me. Let’s just pretend I never said anything.”
“So I should also pretend you didn’t bring up my James Beard Award, like it’s something to be ashamed of?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Sorry you run a conveyor-belt restaurant.” Her voice was full of acid, but she blinked, then quickly looked down.
A conveyor-belt restaurant?He deserved her rage, but he’d offered an olive branch and she’d snapped it in half.
“I know what you think of me, Nina. The only food worth eating costs a month’s rent, right? How’s that going for you? I heard the LA location is in trouble now, too.” He flinched as he said the words. He wanted to take them back, but couldn’t. Her Napa location had just closed, and her San Fran restaurant had long been shuttered. Being pompous wasn’t what the masses wanted, and foodies didn’t love that she’d “sold out” and joined a TV show rather than focusing on her craft.
“We’re back in sixty,” Tiffany shouted across the soundstage. “Can’t I trust you to act like you’re the luckiest fucks in the world because you’re getting paid to eat food? Donotget me fired,” she added to Nina and Leo.
Nina didn’t say a word in response, which was rare. She bit her full bottom lip and kept her gaze focused on a spot beyond Leo, refusing to meet his eyes.
If they had been friends, he would have told her that he’d had to quietly close one of his locations this year as well. He’d made a poor business decision and overextended himself. Though, maybe she already knew about his failure and had chosen not to mention it. For as brutal as she could be toward him, she only lashed out when he did. Why couldn’t he just keep his damn mouth shut? But he didn’t have the time to fix what he’d said, because Tiffany was counting down from ten, nine, eight...
