Landon had made a big deal of Raffe going it on his own. He’d cited a lovers’ quarrel, which had been a big hit with the audience. Some women had even volunteered to stand in. Apparently Landon had been right about drama being good for ratings.
As if it wasn’t bad enough to summon the teams to the kitchens before they were mentally prepared, the judges threw another curveball at them. There was to be a quick elimination round, and then after that, only two teams would remain. Those two teams would battle it out for the ultimate victory immediately after.
Could he pull this off by himself? He was hyperaware of the empty space beside him. The space where Sarah should be. Sarah was the one who acted quickly on her feet. Sarah had a good sense of food combinations. He needed her.
Raffe’s eyes darted from the knives to the utensils to the counter. He took a deep breath, getting into the zone.
You can do this.
He had to do it. For Sarah. He owed it to her. And now that he knew why she needed the money—for her brother—he was determined to get it for her.
He glanced at the other contestants. Gina and Tony looked happy, their arms around each other. A feeling of satisfaction swelled in his chest. He’d helped them reconnect.
The hopeful looks on Kim and Dave’s faces made his heart clinch. They had the most to lose. Of all the teams, they’d probably worked the hardest to earn the title.
Raffe looked back at his own station. If he won, it wouldn’t mean nearly as much to him. He hadn’t paid anyone off to rig the contest, so he’d finally have the satisfaction of earning something on his own, but somehow, looking at Kim and Dave, the thought of winning now felt hollow.
Maybe there was a way everyone could win?
“And now, the dish for the elimination round.” Landon had grabbed the microphone and beamed at the camera. “Each team will have thirty minutes to create the best dish they can with five ingredients.” Landon looked pointedly at Raffe. “It’s going to be a tough one for one of our teams. Let’s see if he can do it alone.”
The audience tittered, obviously excited about the added challenge of a one-chef kitchen.
“And it starts now!”
Raffe froze with indecision then suddenly knew what he was going to cook. One of his favorite dishes. He loved it because it was so simple, with only five ingredients, yet the taste was worthy of a five-star restaurant.
He grabbed a pot from under the sink and filled it half full then rushed it onto the burner, the water sloshing dangerously close to the brim. The burner lighted with a familiar click, click, click, and he turned to rush to the walk-in refrigerator before his hand was even off the knob.
He grabbed Gruyère, cheddar, fresh truffles, cream, and handmade bow tie pasta. Using the bow tie pasta over elbow macaroni for the fancy macaroni and cheese recipe would dress up the dish.
He raced back to his station, throwing the pasta in the water before mixing the cream and cheese. He seasoned everything perfectly with salt and pepper and a dash of paprika—seasonings didn’t count toward the five ingredients. It was a simple dish, but when combined with the truffle, the taste was absolutely decadent.
Raffe was in the zone, not paying attention to the audience or Landon or the other chefs as he moved quickly about the kitchen. Gone were the nerves he’d felt in the previous contests. He was finally in his element.
“Time’s up!” Landon yelled just as Raffe placed a sprig of parsley on top of the macaroni and cheese.
A staff member took his plated dishes and brought them to the judges’ table. Raffe stood still, pulse thudding, as each judge raised a brow at the dish then took a tentative spoonful. Durkin leaned back and closed his eyes then dug in for another bite, and the tension in Raffe’s shoulders eased. The critic liked it. That was a good sign.
The judges went through their tasting routine, taking bites from all the dishes, bending their heads together in whispered consultation. Then finally they gestured for Landon. He approached the table. There was more whispering before the host wheeled around and nodded at the camera.
Raffe’s heart thudded as Landon strolled closer to the stations. “We had some very unusual dishes in this very unusual competition. And one team was down to just one chef. Can one chef in the midst of a lover’s quarrel out-cook his happy couple counterparts?”
The room was silent.
“Raffe, I admire your persistence. You’ve done an admirable job on your own, but…”
Raffe’s heart swooped. He was being cut out of the competition. He’d lost.
Landon continued, “…someone has to go home.” His head swiveled to Gina and Tony. “Gina and Tony, I’m sorry. Your dish, though delectable, fell short in the seasoning. Too salty. You’re out of the competition. Raffe, Kim and Dave, you will compete for the title of Chef Master!” Landon screamed the last words out.
The crowd cheered.
Raffe did a double take. He was in? Kim and Dave bounced over to his station and hugged him. He was in. He’d done it!
Gina and Tony came over to congratulate the two remaining teams.
“Sorry you guys didn’t make it.” Raffe shook Tony’s hand.
“Winning would have been great, but we got something even better than that from this contest.” Tony slipped his arm around Gina’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Didn’t we, honey?”
“We did.” Gina mouthed a silent “thank-you” to Raffe, and his heart swelled.
“We’d better clean up before the next round.” Dave wiped his hands on his stained apron, the stress evident on his face. “Good luck.”
“You too.” Raffe turned to his sink, putting the dirty pots on the cart that would haul them to the back kitchen where they did most of the dishwashing. He made his way to the storage area to grab more pots, anxiety building with the knowledge that the final contest was only a few minutes away.
On his way back, he caught a glimpse of bleach-blond hair skulking around the walk-in cooler. Veronica? Was she sabotaging something back there? He was about to investigate when Landon’s voice jerked his attention back to the performance area.
“We have a special guest in the audience, everyone. It’s Sarah! I guess these two love birds might make up after all!” Landon’s words elicited laughter and hoots from the audience.
Sarah was here?
Raffe’s heart thudded as one of the cameras zoomed in on his face. His eyes scanned the audience, locking on Sarah’s. She was seated in the front row, behind the judges. She smiled tentatively and gave a little finger wave.
She wasn’t angry! Raffe broke into a huge grin, and Sarah’s smile widened in response.
He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to be on stage with him, that she knew he wasn’t the jerk that she had said he was earlier. He had no idea what had changed her mind. Maybe something had happened after she had stormed out of the bungalow. Maybe she had talked to someone. Raffe didn’t care. All he cared about was that she’d come back for him. And now he knew that was what mattered to him more than anything.
Something clicked deep inside him, and Raffe felt a renewed determination to prove himself to Sarah. He wanted more than anything for Sarah to have the money she needed for her brother.
Something inside him had changed. Now it wasn’t only about proving himself to his father and others. He wanted to be a better man for Sarah. And a better man doesn’t cheat and lie his way into contests. Raffe couldn’t change what he’d already done, but…
Landon appeared in front of him, his arms raised, pointing at the camera to start rolling. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”
The room grew quiet, and the audience shifted in their seats.
“It’s down to two teams… well one and a half.”
The audience chuckled.
“But Raffe is cheered on by his lady love!”
A camera swung in on Sarah.
“Will that be enough to help him win?”
The camera swung back to Ra
ffe.
“And now, the final challenge. The challenge that will determine who becomes the next Chef Master and who goes home with egg on their face…” Landon gave one of his by-now-familiar dramatic pauses. “And I do mean egg, because this challenge is to cook your best quiche!”
Quiche! Yes! Raffe was a veritable quiche master. What a lucky break.
“But there’s a catch,” Landon said. “You must use all the eggs in your carton, no more and no less. And you must use all of the milk in one of these containers.”
Landon waved his arm dramatically at a table behind Raffe that held three tall test-tube-like containers filled with milk. Each container was filled to a different level.
Raffe squinted at the containers. They were so tall and thin it was impossible to tell how much milk was in each. His gaze swiveled to the container of eggs on his counter. Five eggs. The ratio of eggs to milk was critical for quiche.
He glanced over at Dave and Kim’s eggs. They had seven eggs.
Shit! Which tube held enough milk for five eggs?
“That’s right, folks, this will test your culinary judgment. There is a container there perfect for each team, so you each have a chance to acquire the exact amount of milk you need. If you choose the right one. Now, the question is, who gets which container?” Landon gave his Cheshire cat smile to the camera. “I think we’ll have a race to determine that.”
Landon stepped to an area ten feet from the table with the milk vessels and indicated a yellow line on the floor. “Raffe, Dave, Kim, please join me behind this line.”
Raffe exchanged uneasy glances with Dave and Kim as they took their places behind the line.
“When the challenge starts, you’ll run to the table and grab the vial of milk that you want to use for your eggs,” Landon explained. “Dave and Kim, you pick one vial. Raffe, you pick one. You’ll be racing against each other, obviously, but remember, you must use the entire vial and all your eggs!”
Raffe eyed the vials. This could make or break the contest.
“Ready. Get set. Go!”
Raffe took off toward the table.
“You have ninety minutes to prepare a fully baked quiche!”
The three of them arrived at the table at the same time. Raffe reached for a vial. No wait, he didn’t want to take the one that held the correct amount for Dave and Kim’s eggs! Dave and Kim whispered to each other, grabbed the middle vial, and ran back to their station.
Raffe took the container on the left and ran back to his station, turning the oven to four hundred degrees and then rushing to the pantry for the ingredients for crust.
Crust wasn’t really his thing. He usually made crustless quiche, but he knew the crust would add a savory element the judges would enjoy. If only Sarah were in the kitchen. She’d bang out the crust in no time. But it was all up to him now. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what she’d done to make the pear tart crust. That one hadn’t come out right, but he knew why. He could use the right mixture of ingredients to make the perfect crust.
He glanced up at the audience, searching for Sarah. She perched on the edge of her seat, watching him. As their gaze met she nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. He smiled and did the same, his confidence blossoming as he returned to the crust.
Once his crust was assembled, he shoved it in the oven to bake before running to the refrigerator for the quiche ingredients. Broccoli, ham, cheese, nutmeg. He remembered seeing Veronica back here. Had she sabotaged something? It didn’t matter. He had a plan, and whatever Veronica did couldn’t hurt him. It might even help.
He raced back to his station, glancing at Kim and Dave. They looked frazzled. Kim pointed at the mixing bowl and Dave shook his head.
The worried looks on their faces halted Raffe. Such stress. And fear. The contest—the money—meant everything to them. It would give them the break they needed. The only thing he wanted or needed was Sarah, and winning the contest wouldn’t guarantee that, but he had an idea what might.
He went back to work on his dish. He poured the milk from the tube into a bowl, eyeing it. He’d need two and a half cups of milk for the five eggs. It looked about perfect.
At Dave and Kim’s station, the couple were eyeballing their egg-to-milk ratio, and they did not look happy.
Raffe looked at the bowl of milk in front of him and then at the eggs in the container. He started cracking eggs into the milk, making sure to return the shells to the container as instructed. He spread them out so they were clearly visible. Wiping his hands on his apron, he glanced up to see if the judges were watching. He had a plan.
Raffe mixed the quiche and then set it in the oven. It would bake for an hour and would come out just in time. He noticed Kim and Dave hadn’t gotten theirs in the oven yet. They were cutting it close.
He wasn’t allowed to leave the area or the scrutiny of the judges while the timer was ticking, so Raffe used the time to put together an arugula salad with strawberries, and a hollandaise sauce to complement the quiche. Getting lost in the work, he was comforted the few times he glanced up to find Sarah watching, silently cheering him on from the audience.
He had just enough time to get the quiche out of the oven and plate individual slices with the sauce and salad when Landon yelled, “Time!”
Raffe stepped back and looked at the plates just as the kitchen staff whisked them away to the judges’ table, but not before he saw the pie-shaped pieces of quiche starting to ooze over on the plate.
Raffe smiled. He was happy with the final results.
The judges didn’t seem happy with either dish. Raffe could feel the panic radiating off Dave and Kim. Their quiche had looked a bit rubbery. They must have chosen the wrong milk.
Durkin summoned Landon to the judges and whispered something. Landon then strode to Raffe’s station and looked in the egg carton. “Team One, you used all your eggs?”
“Of course. The shells are there.” Raffe pointed.
Satisfied, Landon proceeded to Kim and Dave. “Team Eight, your shells are all present?”
Dave lifted the egg carton, and Landon peeked in then turned to the judges and nodded. “Judges, do we have the final results?”
The judges frowned down at their dishes and then huddled with Landon.
After a long pause, which contained much gesturing to the dishes on the part of the judges, a grim-looking Landon stepped forward to make the final announcement.
“This was a difficult decision.” He scowled at Raffe and then at Kim and Dave. “The judges were not wowed by either dish as the consistency of the quiche was not perfect from either team.”
Raffe glanced at Sarah. Her eyes darted from Kim and Dave to Raffe. He almost felt what she was thinking, and he felt the same way. She wanted them both to win.
“Raffe, the flavoring in your dish was excellent. The spices added just enough zing to your dish to make it interesting,” Raffe’s heart twisted as Landon turned to Kim and Dave. It sounded almost as if the judges favored Raffe’s dish best.
“Kim and Dave, your ingredients were unique and refreshing.” Landon frowned. “But your quiche was a tad rubbery.”
Raffe heard a disappointed sigh from Kim, and his heart twisted even more. Kim and Dave were about to lose everything.
Landon turned back to Raffe. “On the other hand, Raffe, your quiche was runny. Neither dish was perfect, but given the overall scoring of flavor, presentation, and consistency…” Raffe held his breath through the usual dramatic pause. “The winner of the Chef Masters title and the five-hundred-thousand-dollar grand prize is…” Landon paused as the camera swiveled to Raffe then to Kim and Dave then back to Landon. “Team Eight, Kim and Dave!”
The audience and staff erupted in applause. A blizzard of confetti rained down from the ceiling. The audience, except for Sarah, rushed to Kim and Dave’s station. While Raffe watched the melee breaking out around Kim and Dave with a big smile on his face, he saw Sarah break from the crowd and run toward him.
“I’m sorry y
ou… we… didn’t win. You must be—” Raffe turned toward her, and her face turned quizzical. “Happy?”
Raffe’s smile widened. He was happy. The win meant so much more to Kim and Dave than it would to Raffe, and everything he needed was right beside him.
“Yes, I am happy.” He opened his arms, and Sarah stepped into them.
“You were wonderful! The crust looked amazing and the ingredients delicious.” She hugged him tighter. “I don’t understand why—”
Crack.
Sarah stiffened and pulled back a few inches before noticing the gooey stain spreading from Raffe’s apron pocket.
“You lost on purpose?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I figured they had a lot more riding on it. See, I’m not the money-grubbing asshole you heard I was. And besides, some things are much more important than money.”
Raffe barely got the words out before Sarah threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips.
Sarah’s heart swelled as she hugged Kim and Dave, congratulating them on their win with Raffe by her side.
She was overjoyed for them but a little disappointed that she and Raffe hadn’t won, mainly because she needed the prize money for Tommy’s rehab. She forced herself to push that to the back of her mind.
Raffe had done the right thing. Winning this contest would be life changing for Kim and Dave, and they deserved it. Besides, she didn’t even know where Tommy was. She would have to find him first and then find a way to pay for rehab.
She didn’t know what was going to happen between her and Raffe, but she felt they had the beginnings of a relationship. Not a fake one, something real. What, exactly, she had no idea, but with both of them returning to New York, maybe she’d get the chance to find out.
She and Raffe had compared notes briefly while she’d tried to clean the broken egg out of his pocket inconspicuously before they pushed their way through the crowd to congratulate Kim and Dave. Raffe had explained in whispers that he’d tried to pick the wrong milk container, but when he’d actually chosen the right one, he’d had no choice but to hide the egg and spread the shells of the other eggs throughout the container so it looked as if he’d used them all. He hadn’t wanted to be obvious about throwing the contest, because he wanted Kim and Dave to have the pride of having won fair and square. He knew Dave wasn’t the type to accept charity.
Can't Stand the Heat (Corporate Chaos Series Book 2) Page 14
