me couldn’t happen. I couldn’t, wouldn’t let it happen. Still, fighting my attraction toward him was going to be so damn hard. Why did he have to be so good-looking and know exactly what to say to make me laugh?
Finally, I pulled out the immersion blender. Two large pots stood in front of me. It was go time. “Okay, Rémi, I’m seasoning one with O’Shea’s recipe. And adding in the lobster,” I said. I ladled a spoonful into a bowl. “Taste it.”
He grabbed a spoon and swallowed back a mouthful. “I like the addition of the lobster, but the velouté has no flavor. I don’t like it. He served it like this?”
“He did.”
“What got you fired?”
“Adding in more spices to the velouté, upon Eric’s instruction.”
“Do it,” he said, and I did. He tasted the soup again and looked up. “It’s even worse. Why do I taste so much cumin? It really overpowers everything. I’m really hoping the other velouté is better,” he said. “For Grand-mère’s sake.”
“I hope so, too,” I said, ladling another bowl. I topped it off with the Parmesan crisp. “Voilà. Tell me what you think.”
Rémi took the bowl and took a bite. His head dropped back and he closed his eyes with pleasure. “It makes me fall in love with the chef who cooked this,” he said, and my jaw went slack. “But it’s missing something.”
“What? What’s it missing?” I asked, panicked, hoping I hadn’t messed up.
“The lobster. But with more orange sauce and less ginger. And maybe flambé the tails with a bit of Armagnac. She loves lobster prepared like that.”
“You don’t think that would be too much? It’s alcohol.”
“Non,” he said. “Alcohol burns down. Try it.”
I lit a match and flambéed the lobster tails, the flames heating my body for a quick second. Or was it Rémi’s close proximity?
Rémi dipped the spoon into the pot, and as he fed me a bite, our eyes locked for a moment. I had to close mine. He was right. The soup was beyond delicious. So was he—his long eyelashes, the golden sunbursts speckling his caramel-colored eyes. And, damn, those perfect bow-shaped lips, offset by dimples when he smiled. I couldn’t control the blush creeping across my cheeks.
Did I just lick the spoon your beautiful mouth was just on?
My entire body sparked, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. With Eric, his mouth was like a sucking octopus, one with very bad halitosis from smoking too many cigarettes. I’d never been that giddy girl, the kind who fretted and fawned over a man. But, when I looked at Rémi’s lips, I was becoming that silly girl. I needed to pull myself together.
“Did we just create a new recipe together?” I asked.
“I believe we did.”
Rémi pulled me in for les bises and my knees nearly crumbled. “I’ve got to head home. Can you spare some for me, Lola, and Laetitia?”
Right.
“Sure, there’s plenty,” I said. After scrambling around for a container, I handed it over.
“Merci, Sophie, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine.”
Rémi left and I stood there for a moment, pushing back indecent thoughts and shaking my head. After making sure everything was perfect, tasting it again, I ladled the velouté into the roasted potimarron bowls, added the lobster and Parmesan crisps, and set them on a tray.
Please love this, Grand-mère. I need your approval.
Anxious, I knocked on Grand-mère’s door and Agnès opened it. She eyed the soup.
“Wow,” she said. “I was expecting something wonderful, but not pure magic.”
“Do you think this is too much for her?”
“It’s perfect. She’s stable, but not one mention of whatever you were discussing before, please.” Agnès paused. “Do you want to feed her? Or should I?”
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“I’ll have to stay by her side.”
“I understand,” I said.
Agnès set up the hospital tray, placing it over my grand-mère’s lap. After setting Grand-mère’s meal on it, Agnès sat on a chair and dug right in. Grand-mère opened her eyes. She looked at me and then at the velouté. “You created this?” she asked. “It’s beautiful. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”
“Yes, we made this for you. Rémi helped.” I picked up a spoon, holding it out with a napkin placed under it so it wouldn’t drip onto her dressing gown.
Her mouth puckered and opened like a baby bird’s. Strange, how I was once the child and she used to feed me. This role reversal was bizarre and unnerved me so badly it broke my heart. I reminded myself