Some Like It Spicy

by Robbie Terman

  “Is something wrong?” Ty asked. “You got a weird look all of a sudden.”

  “I just realized how much I sound like my dad,” Ashton said. “That’s not a good thing.”

  Ty nodded sympathetically. “You don’t get along.”

  “Not so much. His version of making me into a better person is to constantly criticize me. He especially loves to criticize my food. Just because he’s a food critic—”

  “Food critic?” Ty’s forehead wrinkled for a moment, then his mouth dropped. “Is your father Charles Grey?”

  Oh, crap. Exactly what she hadn’t wanted to admit. “Yeah.”

  Ty began to laugh. “He reviewed my restaurant once, about six months after it opened. He said my chicken cordon bleu did for French cuisine what Hitler did for the Germans.”

  Ashton wanted to sink under the table. “That sounds like him.” He didn’t just insult people’s food; he took it to a new level. And he found himself immensely witty. Apparently, many people did—he was highly sought after by magazine and book editors. Still, just once, she wished her father would be on the receiving end of one of those famous insults. Maybe then he’d understand.

  “Hey.”

  Ashton looked down to see Ty’s hand arch over hers.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He squeezed her hand. “I only cried for one, two months tops.”

  A laugh bubbled up. “You’re doing better than most. I can’t tell you how many death threats he’s gotten.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be tough.”

  Only because she occasionally wished someone would have the guts to follow through with their threats. Then, she’d be racked with guilt and hate herself for days for even thinking something so awful.

  “How about you? Any crazy Cateses lurking in the basement?”

  Ty shook his head. “We’re disgustingly normal. My mom and dad are still married. I have a younger sister, Ruby. She and her husband, Denny, have two kids. Ruby and Denny run the restaurant for me, since I’m never there.”

  “That sounds like a nice family,” Ashton said, wistfulness in her voice. “I’m an only child.”

  “I’m lucky. If not for Ruby and Denny, I don’t know how I’d keep the place open.”

  “How did you end up in New York if your restaurant is in Atlanta?”

  “I was born and raised in Atlanta. Except for attending the Culinary Institute and a tour of Europe, I’d never been anywhere else. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life there.”

  “Then…” Ashton prompted.

  “A producer from the Today Show was on vacation and ate at my restaurant. She invited me to do a segment and the rest is history. I had too many gigs to commute, so I got a place here. As time went on, I had less of an opportunity to get back to Atlanta. Now I’m only there a few times a year, and it’s usually a quick trip.”

  “I don’t know how you stand it. I can’t wait to get back to my restaurant. When I’m away from it, even on my days off, I feel a little…”

  “Lost,” Ty finished.

  “Exactly.” She smiled. So few people understood her this way. Her insides started to go as gooey as Chloe’s molten-lava cake—which was so wrong! Why did the most fascinating, sexy man she’d met in…well, forever…have to be someone she couldn’t have? The fact that the show only lasted eight weeks didn’t matter. If—when—she won, she didn’t want anyone claiming she’d used anything but her cooking skills to get there. Her reputation was too important to risk for a few hot nights in bed. She pulled her hand away from his.

  A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them before Ty said, “Do you understand what will happen if you win?”

  “Fortune and fame?” she joked lightly. She didn’t want to spread around how much difficulty her restaurant was in and that winning the contest was virtually the only thing that would keep her in business.

  “Fortune, fame, and a schedule that barely allows time to sleep. I’m not away from my restaurant by choice, Ashton.”

  “That won’t happen to me.”

  “Listen—”

  Ashton pushed back her chair and stood so fast it tipped over. She bent to pick it up. “I should get back to the house. Everyone is probably wondering what happened to me.”

  “Ashton.”

  “You shouldn’t walk back with me. We don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Thanks for the capers, Chef Cates. See you at the next challenge.”

  …

  “Where have you been?”

  Morgan stood in the doorway, hands on hips, as Ashton walked through the front door of the brownstone. The question was perfectly legitimate, but with the scowl on Morgan’s face and the accusatory tone in her voice, Ashton had no desire to be friendly. “Remind me where in my contract it says I have to report my whereabouts to you.”

  “Fine.” Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess you have something to hide.”

  Ashton was saved from continuing the conversation when Jolene walked into the living room, holding a bottle of wine. “Good! You’re back. We wanted to toast your victory, but we lost you somewhere between the studio and here.”

  “Sorry,” Ashton said, grabbing a glass from the sideboard. “I needed some time to clear my head, so I went for a walk.”

  “You’re here now. Come with me.”

  Ashton followed Jolene, and as they stepped into the kitchen, the rest of the chefs applauded.

  Her cheeks flamed as she accepted their praise. Usually, she basked in that sort of attention, but this was different. In order for her to win, other people had to lose. They were all talented chefs, and she dreaded the moment she was on their side of the table.

  “Thanks, guys,” she said as the holler died down. She pulled out a chair and sat.

  “You the man,” Duffy said, throwing her a high five.

  “How does it feel to be the first winner?” Elena asked.

  “In a challenge that doesn’t count,” Ashton reminded everyone.

  “Still,” Lance said, “now we know who to gun for.” His tone was joking but seriousness lurked in his eyes.

  Great, the competition hadn’t really started yet, and still lines were being drawn. She’d been feeling a high from her win, but now tension crept into her shoulders.

  “Hey.” Jolene glanced around. “Where did Morgan go?”

  “Who cares?” Lance said. “That girl hasn’t cracked a smile since she got here. I’m about ready to throw her in the oven.”

  “Naw,” Duffy said. “She’d be one tough piece of meat.”

  Their laughter bounced off the walls.

  The party broke up around midnight, and Ashton was ready for bed within minutes. Jolene hadn’t made an appearance yet and wouldn’t for a while—last night, she’d spent at least twenty minutes in the bathroom putting on some kind of face mask.

  Deciding not to wait for her roommate, she flipped off the lights, closed the door, and sank between the sheets with an exhausted moan.

  Just as she was drifting off, she heard the creak of the door. Assuming it was Jolene, she ignored it, until she heard her name being whispered.

  She opened her eyes, squinting at the lights from the hallway. When the brightness dimmed, she saw Morgan standing there, still carrying a sullen expression.

  “What do you want, Morgan?”

  “I know who you were with.”

  Ashton sat up. “Excuse me?”

  “If you think you’re going to screw a judge and win this competition, you’d better guess again. There are other judges, and they aren’t all trying to get in your pants.”

  Ashton’s heart pounded in her ears. Morgan couldn’t have seen her with Ty. The studio had been empty when they’d left, and they hadn’t encountered anyone on the streets. She was just trying to trip Ashton up, and Ashton wasn’t going to let that happen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Morgan let out a sneering laugh. “Maybe you’ve already slept with him. Maybe that’s how you
r crappy little sandwich won.”

  “That’s enough.” Ashton jumped out of bed. “You didn’t even taste my sandwich, so what gives you the right to pass judgment on it? Obviously it was good, because I won.”

  “And that’s all your win was based on, right? Taste?”

  Ashton narrowed her eyes. “That’s right. Maybe instead of worrying about everyone else, you should worry about yourself. Or at least learn how to cook chicken.”

  Morgan let out a growl of fury. “Right, because I’m not good enough to be here. At least I don’t need to screw my way to the top.” She stomped off, knocking into Jolene as she exited the room.

  “What was that about?” Jolene asked, her head tilting toward Morgan.

  Ashton lifted her shoulders. “She just wanted to congratulate me.”

  Chapter Five

  Used to sleeping in, Ashton felt like the early morning call was as natural as putting gravy on her fries instead of chili. Her eyes blurry from sleepiness, she tried to focus on Sally, who had gathered the chefs around the prep tables.

  “Your first challenge is today,” Sally announced. “For those of you who don’t know the challenge system, a High Heat challenge is an elimination. We also have Medium Heat—a nonelimination challenge in which the winner gets an advantage. And just to throw you off, we’ll sometimes call a Low Heat challenge, which may have nothing to do with cooking. Today is a High Heat challenge, so be prepared. One of you will be going home.”

  Just hearing “elimination” made Ashton’s gut churn. What if she was eliminated today? How would she face Chloe and Jenna? How could she face her father? Suddenly, yesterday’s win meant nothing. If the judges didn’t like her food, she could very possibly be on her way back to Chicago.

  Sally put a finger on her earpiece and spoke into the microphone brushing her lips. “Is Ty on set?”

  Now Ashton’s stomach was churning for an entirely different reason. She craned her neck, searching the room for Ty. Last night, he’d visited her in her dreams. They had done things with capers that would make a health department agent gasp in horror.

  “We start filming in an hour,” Sally continued. “So everyone needs to get camera ready.”

  Ashton had just enough time to grab coffee and a granola bar before she was thrust into the makeup chair. As soon as she finished, she wandered back to the pantry to get herself refamiliarized with the location of all the ingredients.

  “I think this is cheating.”

  Her heart did a high jump as she whirled around, sloshing her coffee on the floor. “Someone should put a bell on you. You’re always sneaking up on me.”

  Ty grinned and stepped further into the pantry. “Maybe you’re just always someplace you’re not supposed to be.”

  “It isn’t cheating,” she insisted. “Sally didn’t say we couldn’t look through the pantry. Any of the chefs could be in here.”

  “But you’re the only one who is. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were going to cause trouble.”

  She flushed. “And that’s without even seeing Sally’s tape of me.”

  Ty laughed. “I have to get my hands on this tape. You’ve got half the crew wearing jock straps.” He stepped closer.

  Glass jars clanged as Ashton backed against a spice rack. The combination of earthy herbs and sweet and spicy filled her nostrils and made her dizzy. “Only half? I’m losing my touch.” The room seemed to close in on them, and she gasped for air.

  Ty’s eyes smoldered as he closed the gap between them.

  Boom.

  A crash from the other room startled them both, and they jumped away from each other. Ashton’s breath came hard and heavy. “What was that?”

  Ty walked to the door and glanced out. “A light fell.” He turned back and raked a hand through his hair. “I should go.” His voice was thick. “We’ll probably start filming soon. Good luck.”

  Halfway out the door, he turned back. A smile touched his lips. “And Ashton, don’t forget the salt.”

  “Oh!” Ashton grabbed the nearest object, a roll of paper towels, and threw it at the door, but Ty had already cleared the room, laughter echoing in his wake.

  “Hello, everyone, and welcome to the new season of The Next Celebrity Chef. I’m your host and head judge, Ty Cates. This year, we’ve got our most talented contestants yet.”

  “Let’s do it again.” Sally moved toward Ty. “You stumbled over a few words.” She moved out of sight of the camera and called action. This time, Ty called a halt to the filming to sneeze.

  The more takes they did, the more nervous Ashton became. She shifted from foot to foot, anxious to start cooking.

  Finally, Ty got an introduction both he and Sally were happy with.

  “Our first elimination challenge,” Ty continued, “will give our chefs the chance to show their individual styles. Chefs, you will make one of your signature dishes, something that will tell the judges who you are.”

  “Cut,” Sally yelled. “We’re going to reposition the cameras. You must stay at your table. Do not take out any supplies or ingredients.”

  The nerves in Ashton’s stomach quelled slightly. She knew exactly what she was going to make—her lobster mac and cheese. The dish was the most popular one in her restaurant.

  She wrote down a few quick steps to follow; not because she needed them, but in case nerves got the better of her.

  “We’re ready,” Sally shouted.

  Ty stood on his marker, waited for the camera to roll. “You will have two hours. And the challenge starts…now!”

  Time flew by as Ashton lost herself in cooking, and suddenly Ty was shouting out that they had five minutes remaining.

  Ashton grabbed a platter to begin plating. To her horror, her hand shook like an addict in need of a fix. She dropped the serving spoon and put her hands behind her back, praying the camera hadn’t caught sight of the affliction.

  A few long, deep breaths should have helped, but didn’t. With only two minutes left on the clock, she had no choice but to finish plating, shaking hands and all.

  She had just added some freshly grated Parmesan as garnish when the buzzer hit zero. The chefs were instructed to stop what they were doing and step back. Ashton walked away from the table to catch her breath.

  Duffy let out a loud whoop, and a few of the chefs clapped as the intensity of the last two hours died away.

  “How does everyone feel?” Ty asked.

  “Like I just ran a marathon,” Duffy responded.

  Anthony had a hand on his chest. “Now I know how the warning signs of a heart attack feel.”

  Ashton agreed with Anthony. Her own heart pounded painfully and even breathing seemed difficult. When she was finally able to turn back, she found Ty’s gaze on her. He quickly twisted his head side to side, and then he mouthed, Are you okay?

  She gave a slight nod, cheeks heating that he even had to ask.

  “Claude and Andrea will be here in a moment to join Ty at the judges’ table,” Sally told them. “Then, you will each present your dish. When each chef has presented, you’ll all go back into the Wreck Room while the judges taste your dish. After, we bring you back out for critique. Any questions?”

  Eight heads shook.

  “We’re ready for Claude and Andrea,” Sally said into her headset. Moments later, they arrived with a wave and sat at an elegantly decorated table on the other end of the studio.

  After a few whispers with the crew, Sally turned back to them. “Okay, chefs, grab your plates and get in line.”

  Ashton’s hands still shook as she lifted her plate. Get a grip, she chastened herself. She held the plate tightly and took her place between Duffy and Lance.

  When Sally yelled, “Action,” Morgan was the first chef to present.

  “Hello,” Morgan said brightly.

  Next to Ashton, Duffy let out a snort of disgust.

  “Today I have some beautiful bay scallops for you. They are perfectly seared and layered over sweet potato chips
with a light coconut-cream sauce. Bon appétit.”

  The plate had a beautiful presentation, but scallops and sweet potatoes were not a combination Ashton enjoyed. Still, Morgan seemed quite confident of the dish.

  Anthony went next, presenting handmade gnocchi in a Gorgonzola cream sauce. He told a heartwarming story about running the Italian restaurant his immigrant grandparents had opened more than fifty years earlier, leaving smiles on all three judges’ faces. Even though she found the smell of the sauce a little too pungent, she’d had Anthony’s handmade pasta the other night and thought he could win just based on that.

  Elena stepped forward next, visibly shaking. Her voice was thick with emotion. “This…this…” She closed her eyes and tears ran down her cheeks.

  Ashton turned her head toward Sally, expecting her to cut, but the producer made no move.

  Elena paused for a few deep breaths and then explained her dish of ropa vieja in one long mouthful of air.

  “Thank you, Elena,” Ty said.

  The presentation continued with Jin’s sweet and sour corned beef. And then it was Jolene’s turn.

  She stepped forward with her dynamic smile and perfect hips swaying. She placed the dish on the table, her cleavage on display.

  “Hi, y’all.” Jolene’s smile was magnetic and immediately all three judges had joined her.

  Ashton forced back the words that bubbled to her throat as Ty’s gaze made contact with Jolene’s chest. Her face is six inches up.

  “Today I have sesame-encrusted salmon over a bed of spinach with a light vinaigrette dressing. This is a low-calorie and heart-healthy meal. The salmon is high in protein and rich with vitamins A and B and Omega-3 oils. And the spinach is full of iron. Please enjoy this delicious and healthful meal.”

  Duffy presented his fried catfish next. Then, it was her turn.

  She stepped forward, praying her voice wouldn’t break and her hands wouldn’t shake. “I have for you a lobster macaroni and cheese. I used gruyere, manchego, and white cheddar, a little bit of butternut squash puree, and a blend of spices. I finished the dish off with freshly grated Parmesan. Enjoy.”