Page 3 of A Very Grumpy Chef

I stand in the open doorway for a beat. That’s when I see the crowd gathered on the street at the bottom of the stairs. They’re all staring up at me, their eyes alight with new town gossip.

I duck back into my apartment, closing and locking the door behind me. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.

Returning to the kitchen, I take in the disaster. Water drips from the cream cabinet doors and pools across the floor. One of the plants on the windowsill is listing sideways, thoroughly drowned. The paper towel is now a black, soggy lump beside the stove, and there are wet scorch marks across my counter.

The tears fall then.

I take a deep breath as I get started on cleaning up the mess. When I’m finished, I’m no longer hungry so I decide to go to bed without eating.

My mind keeps replaying my new neighbor’s words as I lie in bed. I decide then and there to avoid the grumpy man like the plague from now on.

I wish Pearl was here. Then this would have never happened. I should find a new roommate, or maybe find myself a handsome man who loves to cook and always does it for me.

I smile at the thought and let the image carry me off to sleep.

2

Alec

I have a strict routine, one I always stick to—unless my new neighbor sets off her smoke alarm and wakes me up.

I’m still irritated about it as I stomp around my apartment. I’m a chef, one of the top-rated in the country. I’ve run Michelin Star restaurants and worked in some of the most prestigious restaurants in the world.

Now I’m looking for a change.

I’m bored. I’ve lost all inspiration, all passion. I need to spice things up, make a drastic change in the hopes that it knocks something loose inside me.

That’s why I’m in this small town in the middle of nowhere, Oregon. It’s why I bought a steakhouse here that I’m hoping to elevate and make a destination restaurant. I’ve got big plans for this place, plans that I’m going to need my sleep for.

I growl as I pace around my apartment’s tiny kitchen.

I know I owe my curvy neighbor an apology for acting like a sleep-deprived jerk, but I doubt she wants to hear from me tonight. Guilt claws at my chest, and I rub the ache, hoping to ease it, but it’s no use.

My routine and sleep schedule have been messed up since I moved here and changed multiple time zones. I’ve been grumpy for the last few days, and even more of an asshole than I usually am. I need to get my sleep schedule and everything else figured out, but for tonight, that goal is ruined.

I clean up my apartment and finish unpacking the last of the boxes. I don’t have much, so it only took me two days to get everything in its place here in my new home.

Now what? I think after I’ve broken down the last box. There’s nothing else for me to do around here.

I grab my keys off the counter and head out of my apartment and down to my car. I make the short drive to Palmer’s Steakhouse and park in the rear, taking the back entrance inside and straight into the kitchen. I’m not scheduled to take over until tomorrow, but I have nothing else to do, so…

“Alec!”

I turn to see Rodney, the previous owner. He’s retiring but agreed to stay on for a few more days until I get settled.

“Hey, how’s it going tonight?” I ask as the rest of the staff bustles about.

“Good, we’re pretty full tonight with reservations. Everything is in order. You said you wanted to go over the menu again?” Rodney asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be looking at the menu and our suppliers.”

“Well, you’re free to use the office. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” I say, heading to the small office tucked off the kitchen.

I bury myself in reports and cookbooks for a few hours. I’m still lost on menu ideas, but I’ve got some leads on suppliers, and I think I’ve met all the staff.

“How did it go?” Rodney asks, appearing in the doorway.