Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Gabe's mother's house was overflowing with people. Madison's head spun as Gabe introduced her to his grandmother, his cousin, Laura, and her three kids, his sister, Christina, and his brother, Lucas, who had brought along a guy named Gary, who'd apparently once lived next door.

There was noise everywhere between the kids yelling and squealing, a television blaring sports in the living room, and another showing cartoons in the family room. She was thankful when they entered the kitchen, but it wasn't that quiet there, either. Christina, who was helping her mother make a salad, also seemed to be fighting with her. Gabe's grandmother, Ana, seemed to be getting annoyed by their argument as she worked on a sauce at the stove.

As Christina's voice rose in protest about some rule of the house, Ana set down her spoon and turned. "Enough," she said in a firm voice. "My food does not need this chaos. Please take your argument somewhere else."

"We're done," Theresa said.

"We're not done," Christina complained. "Nothing has been resolved."

"Fine. Come with me." Theresa waved her daughter toward the door leading to the backyard patio.

As they left, Ana let out a breath and said, "The two of them are driving me mad."

"Well, Christina will be moving out soon," Gabe said. "That should quiet things down."

"I heard you're helping her," Ana said. "Your mother is not happy about it. She wants Christina to stay home until she goes to school in September."

"It will be more peaceful around here if Christina lives with her girlfriends, and I'm just helping her with a little extra cash. She's going to pay for most of the rent on her own."

"You're a pushover," Ana said, a knowing gleam in her eyes. "But also, a very generous brother."

"They each need space. And if they don't get it soon, they're going to say things they regret."

"I suspect you're right," Ana agreed, her gaze moving to her. "But we must be boring Madison with this family talk. I want to know more about the sauce you made for Gabe's lamb."

"She threw about a thousand ingredients into it," Gabe said.

"Not a thousand, but quite a few," she admitted as she told Ana how she'd put the sauce together.

Ana nodded approvingly as she finished. "You picked the perfect ingredients to blend and to go with Gabe's lamb. The mint chimichurri was an excellent touch."

"That was all Gabe," she said, ignoring his pointed grin.

"I thought as much," Ana said. "My grandson knows how to cook even better than I do."

"That would be impossible," Gabe said. "I might have added the mint chimichurri, but Madison really sold our dish with her plating skills. It was beautiful."

"I saw the photos," Ana said. "The plate is so important, isn't it?"

"I think so," she agreed.

The kitchen door opened, and Christina said, "Gabe, could you come out here, please?" Her voice held more than a little frustration.

"Really? You two need me?" Gabe asked reluctantly. "Can't you figure things out on your own?"

"We need you," Christina said firmly.

"Fine. I'll be right back."

As he left, Ana smiled. "Gabe can't say no to his family. It's his best and his worst trait. Sometimes, his siblings need to work things out without him. But since his father died, he's been put into that role. And it fits him well. Gabe is a fixer. If something is broken, he tries to fix it. Unfortunately, he can't fix the fact that this family lost an important person—my son, Gabe's father and Theresa's husband."

"I was sorry to hear about that," she said.

"Thank you. Gabe tries to make the loss less horrible for everyone. I give him a lot of credit for that." She paused. "Sometimes, Theresa gets upset when Gabe overrides her with his siblings, but she can't have it both ways. She relied on him a lot after my son died, and this is where we are now."

She was impressed by how much Gabe cared about his family and how willing he was to stand up for his siblings. Neither her brother nor her sister had ever stood up for her. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a defender, a protector, like Gabe.

"Did you learn to cook from your parents or grandparents?" Ana asked.

"No. I had a nanny who taught me the basics when I was very young, and then I taught myself until I went to cooking school."

"Your family must be proud of how much you've accomplished at such a young age."

"I guess," she said, not really sure that was true. But it felt like the appropriate answer.

"I hope you and Gabe can make it to the end together."

"I hope so, too. What are you making?"

"An enchilada sauce," Ana said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Nothing special."

"May I taste it?"

"Of course." Ana reached into a drawer, pulled out a spoon, and handed it to her.

She spooned up the simmering sauce, let it cool for a second, then tasted it. The flavors packed a punch. "Now I know where Gabe gets his taste for bold seasoning. It's very good."

"Thank you. I like heat."

"So do I," she admitted, even though Gabe would never believe that. Clearing her throat, she added, "Gabe told me the hallacas you make at Christmas are his favorite food."

A proud smile spread across her tired face. "They are my favorite, too. He keeps asking me for my secret recipe. But I haven't given it to him yet. I'm not quite ready to turn that dish over to him. I suppose that sounds silly. It's just that I learned how to make them from my mother, and it's always been my tribute to her every Christmas. I missed making them last year, so I probably should teach Gabe before…well, I should teach him soon."

She didn't know what health issues Ana was facing, but she hoped they weren't dire enough to force her to give up her cooking any time soon.

"What can I do to make this sauce better?" Ana asked her.

"I think it's perfect as it is."

"You're a talented chef. What would you do to make it more special?"

"I really don't believe it needs anything," she said, feeling very put on the spot. She didn't want to offend Ana. She was such a lovely person.

Thankfully, Gabe came back into the kitchen, his assessing gaze sweeping from one to the other. "What's going on?"

"I thought Madison might be able to add something to improve my sauce," Ana said.

"But I can't think of anything," she quickly put in.

Ana shook her head. "I'm sure it's not perfect. And Gabe said you are a genius at sauces."

"You called me a genius?" she asked in surprise.

"I don't think I used that exact word," he murmured.

"Don't be shy, Madison. Talk to me about this sauce. What would you add?" Ana asked again.

"Well, if I had to add something, it would be more smoked paprika," she said.

Ana laughed. "That's what Gabe always says."

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes, but Abuela doesn't listen to me." He paused as his grandmother reached for the smoked paprika. "Apparently, she listens to you."

"Because I'm a genius," she murmured with a smile.

He grinned. "You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope."

"I figured."

The back door opened again, and a subdued Christina entered first, her mother following. Whatever had been going on between them seemed to be over.

As Christina and Theresa helped Ana with lunch, Gabe walked her outside to the patio, where a beautiful flower garden and a fountain provided a soothing backdrop to the table and chairs.

"This is lovely," she said. "Very calm."

"An escape from the house," he said dryly.

"It is a little loud inside, but happy, too. It's a good noise."

"It is. It got too quiet after my father died. My brother, Michael, and I were out of the house by then, but Lucas and Christina were here, and so was my grandmother. She had moved in after my grandfather passed away and then, two years later, she had to bury her son. It was a difficult time."

"It must have been."

"I think my mother took Laura and her kids in, not just because they're family and that's what family does, but because she wanted the house to feel happy again. Of course, she didn't consult Christina, who is now sharing her bedroom with a ten-year-old."

"I understand why she wants to move out."

"I believe she and my mother have finally made a truce about that. They've been arguing a lot this year, and that's one reason I wanted to help Christina. I don't want a war between them, and Christina made me realize she's been the one here for the last eight years since my father died. She's had to deal with keeping spirits up while her siblings were off living their lives. It's her turn."

"So the bank of Gabe paid out."

"Just a partial amount to help her cover her rent. She's working full-time this summer at a clothing boutique in town. She's making some money, just not enough."

She was beginning to see how generous Gabe was. Not a lot of guys would be that concerned with helping their nineteen-year-old sister. But he was not like a lot of guys. And that was part of her problem with him. The more time they spent together, the more she liked him.

"Anyway," he continued. "Christina moving out will free up some space in the house. It's always felt crowded to me. Growing up, because Christina was the only girl, she got her own bedroom, while me and my brothers shared a room with bunk beds. It was always loud and smelled like sweat most of the time. On the other hand, it was probably good training for me to work in a small space that is also hot and sweaty."

"But doesn't smell like socks," she said with a laugh.

He grinned at her. "Definitely not."

"When did you get your food truck?"

"Four years ago. I got a deal on the truck because it needed some paint and some repairs. I thought it would be a great way to get out on my own and build my brand, even if it was just in a truck."

"That makes sense."

"It wasn't what I thought it would be. I had bigger plans of serving more complex dishes, but the reality of cooking in the truck forced me to focus on more straightforward items where everyone knows what they are, and I can just try to make them as good as I can make them. But I miss cooking a wider variety of dishes, which I used to do when I worked in restaurants. I have to admit when the competition started yesterday, I had a momentary doubt that I might have forgotten how to cook like I used to."

She raised a brow. "You were nervous? I never would have guessed."

"Well, I have a better poker face than you do, Madison."

"True. What other restaurants have you worked in?" she asked, curious about his background.

"I've worked in a variety of restaurants, from pizzerias and diners to a vegetarian restaurant and even a Japanese teppanyaki steakhouse. That was fun. I got to cook and perform and meet people from all over the world. But it was also limiting in what I could cook, and I got bored with the knife tricks."

"You have knife tricks? I'll have to remember that, in case I see one flying in my direction," she joked.

"What about you? Where have you worked?"

"I've worked for high-end restaurants most of my career, except a few months in Paris when I worked in a very small, casual café that served rustic dishes. I haven't thrown any knives, although there were a few chefs that made me want to."

"Had some bad bosses, did you?"

"More than a couple. And it wasn't like they were tough because they wanted to make me better. They were just assholes. Talented but complete jerks. And they didn't respect female chefs. I told myself I was just paying my dues, but…" She gave a helpless shake of her head. "It never felt like I was getting very far. However, I also had a couple of superb chefs that I worked for along the way, chefs I could learn from. One was Diane Couvier. I don't know if you've heard of her. She has a Michelin-starred French restaurant in New York, and she was incredible. I never would have left that restaurant, but she got sick, and she had to shut it down. That was a sad day, but I'm so grateful for how much I learned from her. She was the one who really taught me how to plate, too, beyond what I'd learned in school."

"It sounds like you're going to kill it in a fine-dining or plating challenge."

"I might have an advantage there. But we'll see what the judges come up with. I don't want to think about that now. It will just stress me out."

"Then don't think about it." He got to his feet. "Lunch is probably ready. Let's see what you think of a typical Herrera Sunday lunch."

Lunch with Gabe's family was more fun than Madison would have imagined. She was warmly welcomed by everyone at the table. The conversation flew fast and furiously with inside jokes, friendly teasing, and a lot of laughter. Christina and her mother seemed to get along better now that they'd resolved their issues. Lucas was a quiet guy with a dry sense of humor and seemed to be more of a spectator than a participant, although she couldn't blame him. Between the kids and the adults, there were many people talking at once.

The food was also delicious, a mix of Mexican and Venezuelan dishes. Everything was hot, spicy, and flavorful and filled her stomach and her heart. Love and care had gone into every dish. Ana seemed tired during the meal, but she was also eager to talk to Madison about cooking, and they had a long discussion about the different kinds of peppers before lunch eventually ended.

After leaving the house, Gabe drove her to La Marée so she could drop off the produce she'd picked up at the market. She wanted to use some of it in her dinner service, and her prep cooks could get started while she went back to her apartment to change clothes.

She was happy that Gabe had the foresight to bring along coolers because her bags were cool and her vegetables crisp.

When they walked into the restaurant, she watched Gabe, wondering what he'd think of the interior. His gaze swept the furnishings, the expression on his face hard to read. "What do you think?" she asked.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, nodding in approval. "Very sophisticated with a feeling of luxury and calm. You did a great job putting this together."

"Larry's designer had a lot of input. It's a little fancier and formal than I would have gone for, but I had to make compromises." She paused as Drea walked out of the kitchen, looking at them in surprise.

"Hello," Drea said, her gaze moving to Gabe. "You're the food truck guy, right?"

"That would be me. Gabe Herrera." He held out his hand.

"Drea Scott," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Drea."

"You, too. I saw you at Maverick's a few nights ago."

"I saw you, too," Gabe returned with a grin. "You were a little busy."

Madison cleared her throat, not wanting Drea to point out that Gabe had gotten just as busy with her. "We should take the produce into the kitchen."

"What produce?" Drea questioned. "What are you two doing together? Are you cooking something for the competition?"

"No. Gabe took me to a farmers' market. I picked up some amazing produce. I'm just going to put it in the kitchen and then I'll go home, change, and come back."

"Okay." Drea gave her a pointed look that suggested she would have more questions later.

Gabe followed her into the kitchen where her prep cook, Kyle, was chopping vegetables, and her pastry chef, Cassie, was working on desserts.

"This is impressive," Gabe said, his gaze sweeping the kitchen.

"Thanks." She was very proud of the kitchen. It had everything she had ever wanted: plenty of space for prep work, top-of-the-line cookware, and three stations with stoves, ovens, and other appliances. Larry had been extremely generous in outfitting the kitchen of her dreams.

Cassie gave her a brief nod but was clearly focused on the cake she was making. With baking, measurements were precise, and Madison didn't want to distract her.

Kyle came over to help her unload the bags. As his gaze met Gabe's, a smile spread across his face. "Gabe? What are you doing here?"

"I took your chef to my favorite farmers' market," Gabe replied.

"You two know each other?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes. Kyle is friends with my brother, Michael."

She probably shouldn't be surprised that Gabe knew someone on her staff. He seemed to know everyone.

"I'm glad I ran into you, Gabe," Kyle added. "I can't help you Friday morning. I'm going out of town for the weekend, and we're leaving Thursday night. I hope you can find someone else."

"I appreciate the heads-up," Gabe said. "I'll figure something out."

She wondered what Kyle was helping Gabe with, and if it was his food truck, she felt a little odd about that. Kyle was working for her, and while he didn't work Friday mornings, it bothered her that he might also work for Gabe.

Clearing her throat, she gave Kyle some quick instructions on which produce to use for dinner service and then said she'd be back in an hour.

Drea was on the phone when they moved through the dining room, so she gave her a wave and followed Gabe to the car.

"Your restaurant looks great," Gabe said. "Did you pick all the décor?"

"It was a group effort with Larry and a designer, but some choices were mine," she replied as she fastened her seat belt.

"The kitchen is amazing. You must love going to work every day."

His words reminded her of how lucky she was. With the stress of needing to succeed quickly, sometimes she forgot that. But she was grateful for the opportunity, and she would make the most of it. "It is wonderful," she said, not sure what to say without sounding like she was rubbing his nose in how spectacular her restaurant and kitchen were while he was stuck in his food truck.

Changing the subject, she said, "What does Kyle do for you on Friday mornings?"

He shot her a quick look as he stopped at a light. "Afraid he's moonlighting?"

"I'm not afraid; I'm a little curious. Does he work for you, too? Because when I hired him, he mentioned nothing to me about working somewhere else."

"He doesn't work for me. He volunteers. On Fridays, I make lunch for elementary schools in the area. I do a different school each week. I park my truck in the parking lot, and all the kids get free food."

She was surprised and impressed. "That's very generous."

"It's not a big deal. I wish I could feed them every day. These are schools with working families and kids who don't get a lot of special treats, but once a month, they get a fun lunch from me. Kyle helps me cook and goes with me to distribute the food. My other employees work late on Friday night, so I didn't want to have them working in the morning, too." He paused, glancing over at her. "I don't pay Kyle anything. He does it because he used to be one of those kids. We cook in the morning, so I don't think it interferes with his job with you."

"No, it doesn't. I don't have a problem with it."

Gabe glanced over at her, a thoughtful gleam in his gaze. "You sound like you have a problem. I'm not pumping your prep cook for information, Madison. I don't need to. I walk by your place every day. I know how crowded it is…or isn't."

She frowned. "I wasn't thinking that, Gabe." Although, she secretly admitted she had wondered just how much information Kyle had shared with him. But as he'd just said, it didn't matter what Kyle told him. Gabe could see that the restaurant wasn't crowded.

"The only thing Kyle told me about you was that you're a talented chef and he's learning a lot."

"Okay." She felt guilty for even having had the worried thought that somehow Gabe had inside information.

A few minutes later, Gabe pulled into his parking spot at Ocean Shores and turned off the engine. Turning to face her, he said, "I'm not going to be your downfall, Madison. Whatever happens with your restaurant, it's on you. I hope you know that."

"I do know that." She met his gaze. "I'm just under a lot of pressure to make things happen in a short period. And I'm on edge about that."

"I don't think Larry Shaw will pull the restaurant out from under you that fast. He's friends with your father."

"He told me his loyalty to my father only goes so far. He's a businessman. He has to see results."

"Well, you've put together a great restaurant, and you're an excellent chef, so all the building blocks are in place for you to succeed."

"You're right. I'm hoping the competition will get more eyes on me, which will make people more interested in trying my food. Anyway…thanks for today. The market and lunch with your family was fun. I loved meeting everyone, and your grandmother was fun to talk to. She really knows her peppers."

"She does, and she was quite taken with you, too."

"I found her story fascinating, and I understand better why you love to cook with bold flavors."

He tipped his head in acknowledgment. "It has been bred into me. But having tasted your sauce the other day, I'm interested in tasting more of your food. I'm going to get a group together and bring them to La Marée."

She was more than a little surprised to hear that. "Really?"

"Yeah, Max and I were talking about it the other day, and I know some of the women are interested, too."

"Any time. I have plenty of open reservations."

"We'll do it one day next week."

"Okay." She blew out a breath, as she put her hand on the door, then paused. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow at the competition."

"Yes," he said, a mix of emotions in his eyes. "It will be different this round. We won't be working together."

"I never thought I'd be unhappy about that, but I kind of am. Having a partner was better than I thought."

"Working with you was definitely better than I thought it would be. And today was good, too."

"It was." She felt an inexplicably strong and unwelcome emotional pull to him, and she knew she needed to get out of the car, but she couldn't seem to make herself move. "But I might have made a big mistake agreeing to spend all this time with you."

"You haven't made it yet," he said, leaning forward, his brown eyes gleaming with desire and intent.

She licked her lips, wishing she could look away, but she couldn't. "I'm not going to kiss you. That wasn't the mistake I was talking about," she said, feeling a little desperate to make that point.

Disappointment ran through his gaze. "Then what was the mistake?"

"Getting to know you better. Liking your family. It will make it harder to beat you."

"Good. But just because we've become friends doesn't mean either of us goes easy on the other. Bring your best, Madison, and I'll do the same. May the best chef win."

"I will bring my best," she said with determination.

"Good. Then today you didn't make a mistake." He paused, giving her a pointed look. "But there's still time."

"You…" She gave a helpless shake of her head. "You're way too tempting, Gabe."

"Then give in."

"It feels too…risky."

"All good things in life come with risk. There's a heat between us, and it's not about the competition or our competing dining establishments. It's just about you and me, and the attraction between us. We started something Friday night that we've both been trying to forget. I don't know about you, but I don't seem to be able to do that."

"We have to forget it. Whatever attraction we had started and ended that night."

"It didn't feel like an ending. Just an interruption. If my stupid brother hadn't called, I think we might have ended up together that night."

She didn't want to admit he was right, but as she stared into his deep, brown eyes, an intense desire stirred within her. "Maybe we should give it an ending then. One last kiss." She leaned forward, touching her mouth to his. She didn't know what kind of kiss she'd been looking for, but as soon as their lips met, the kiss took on a life of its own, sparking an instant wave of heat and longing.

She'd spent the last week trying to tell herself he hadn't been that good of a kisser, that whatever she'd felt had been due to too much tequila. But she wasn't drunk now, and her body was on fire. She needed to pull away, but she didn't want to. She wanted to keep kissing him. She wanted to touch him, to take things much further than they should go.

And then the blast of a car horn made them jump apart.

"What the hell?" Gabe asked, looking out the window.

"Looks like someone is getting a ride," she said, following his gaze.

A moment later, a dark-haired woman she'd never seen before came out of the courtyard and got into the car.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"No idea. Never saw her before. She must be visiting someone." He turned back to her as the car pulled away. "Where were we?"

"I have to go," she said quickly. She opened the car door and practically jumped out.

"Madison, wait," Gabe said.

She hesitated, then shook her head and said, "That was the last time. That was the end."

He smiled. "No. That was just another interruption. You and I—we are not done, Madison, not by a long shot."

She turned away and walked quickly into the building, afraid he might be right.