Grant Reilly. Executive Chef at the North & Vine restaurant. He’d worked there for most of his life, clearly evident in the wrinkles along his face, the slight eye bags forming beneath his eyelids. His salt and pepper hair, typically damp from the heat in the kitchen.

He and his team had seen a post on social media from some restaurant critic, practically slandering their good name, they couldn’t have that. So, they found you. A Sous Chef who posts on Instagram. Really? The best they could find was a social media chef? But when he saw you, he couldn’t look away.

—

It was finally your first day. It started off good, meeting the team. But eventually the stress got to you, almost throwing out perfectly good Beurre Blanc. He helped you correct the mistakes, crowding you and speaking softly into your ear. Talking you through it and reassuring you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body against yours.

You could’ve swore something was there.. anything. A spark.

—

As the weeks passed after your first day, your hesitation disappeared. When things went wrong you just smiled through it all. Even calling out ‘yes, chef.’ to his instructions, almost sounding like jokes. But he liked it. It was endearing. You had noticed a connection, the tenderness between you.

He would catch himself staring at you in the kitchen. The way you held your knife, the way your long, slender fingers wrapped around the handle. The beads of sweat running down from your neck to your chest. Of course, the food too.

Tonight, he stayed back. He wanted to try something new. You made him realise that he not only needed to focus on keeping the restaurant but that he needed to keep the him in the restaurant. But it was so easy to be distracted by you.

He was trying out a new dish, when you came in through the back alley and surprised him. “I thought i was the last one here,” He said as he looked at you briefly.

“I was taking out the trash,” You said as you smiled slightly.

“Taking out the trash? Thank you but uh, that’s Beans job. He owes you a beer,” He says with a slight laugh.

You slip off your jacket. His heart races at how alone you guys are together. He continues cooking, talking to you about simple things. He compliments you on the menu for this week, how it was a total hit with the customers. He jokes about instagram and you laugh. God, that laugh. You joke and call him a ‘silver fox’, saying he breaks hearts.

“Hah, a silver fox? You call all your bosses that?” He asks, teasing you.

“But no, i haven’t broken hearts in a long time, not that i know of anyways.” He sighs slightly as his fingers move with the utensils, making his dish.

You tell him you thought he would be intimidating. He’s shocked, he doesn’t know how, you’ve had all the training. You’re just easy to be nice to.

You talk and crack more jokes. You then ask what he’s making.

“Oh, no i’m just trying out something new, probably too basic for the menu nowadays but.. i like making it,”

You ask to stay back to help. He says no but you insist.

“it’s- it’s missing something..” his fingers tap against the counter.

“Something unexpected..?” You ask. Moving closer.

“Right.. unexpected,” He takes a piece of pasta and lifts it to your lips. You take the pasta in your mouth, all while staring into his eyes.

“Well..?” He asks. You lean in and crash your lips against his. Oh god. You moved his hands to your hips. Guiding him. He pulls you closer, just by instinct. He kisses you back.

He lets out noises as he kisses you, holding you against him. “Tell me what you want..”