The rest of my family finally comes in. Mama’s face is smooth and calm, but Wyatt is looking a little green around the gills, so I grab his hand and we walk over to our section together, as a united front. We decided to wear apple-green chef coats trimmed in black (green’s my favorite color and I think it’ll bring us luck) and those jackets are waiting on hooks near three comfortable seats around a round table.
The Everhearts haven’t arrived yet, but I peek over at their station. They’ve opted for black coats…to accompany their black hearts I suppose.
Another family is here already. The sign reads “Smith Family” and when I glance their way, they’re smiling at us. Mama smiles back and Wyatt waves. I stare, features perfectly schooled. I don’t have it in me to smile—I’m in beast mode. They’re already wearing their light blue jackets, and they have the same structure as our family—a mom, and what looks like her son and daughter. The son is…cute. Not Everheart beautiful, but perfectly nice looking, if not a little average. Average height, average hair color, average build. He’s still looking at me, and still smiling. He pushes his brown hair off his forehead and reveals brown eyes. I smile back before remembering myself. Back to beast mode.
The fourth family’s sign reads “Dolter Family” and hanging up behind their table are pink jackets trimmed in white. They haven’t made it here yet either.
I open my laptop and review my notes on possible competitions. Meanwhile Wyatt gets up and looks at the station where we’ll be competing—breaking rule number eight.
“Wyatt!” Mama hisses.
He circles back to our table, eyebrows drawn together, getting right in Mama’s face. “Ma’am?”
She whispers, “Even if you didn’t read the rules, didn’t you just hear that woman tell us not to go in the kitchen?”
The horrified look that passes over his face is almost comical. I doubt he cares about breaking the rules, but he definitely wouldn’t want to embarrass Lillie. That wouldn’t bother me as much.
I’m so focused on my laptop and still giggling at Wyatt’s faux pas that I don’t notice when Knox and his brothers enter the studio. When I look up again to their table, they’re all sitting there. My face heats immediately when Knox turns to me and winks. Caught me lookin’. Weston smiles and waves. Declan scowls. Or he simply looks. I dunno, I’ve only seen him a handful of times, but that seems to be his default. He probably thinks this competition is beneath him. As the oldest, I imagine he’ll be next in line as head chef at their father’s restaurant.
I overcompensate and rotate my head in the complete opposite direction. Oh, the Smith son is looking right at me, and our eyes lock.
This day is not starting out as expected.
The final family sashays in. There’s really no other way to describe the way they move. All women, sisters maybe. Cousins? They’re all mid- to late-twenties, model thin, and gorgeous. Also, I was not expecting another Black family. Out of four competing, that almost seems impossible. They notice the equally gorgeous other family and throw grins their way.
I mumble, “Seven brides for seven brothers, I guess.”
Wyatt laughs. “Why do you care? You hate them.”
I shrug. “Whatever. I don’t hate them. And I don’t care.”
Mama nudges me to be quiet as the director comes over to get this party started. This morning, the Smiths and Everhearts will square off, two challenges each. We’ll face the Dolter goddesses this afternoon with the same format but different challenges. Tomorrow it’ll be us in the morning and them in the afternoon, one challenge each. Watching our competition is encouraged. There’ll be a whole new set of families the day after we finish, and I’ll definitely be staying to scope the advancing opponents. That’s how confident I am that we’ll make it out of the first round.
While the director gives us her last instructions, the crew has already started filming. She says, “We’ll mostly film everything as we go and edit later. The two families left for the finals will get visits to your family restaurants which will be B-roll footage. Please keep in mind that when you’re not cooking, you still may be filmed.”
I give Mama and Wyatt pointed looks. Mama’s pretty good at keeping her emotions in check, but Wyatt has a glass face. He doesn’t even try to look abashed, only grins.
The Everhearts don their black coats and head to their kitchen on the right. The Smiths do the same, taking up their space on the left. The hosts make their entrance on camera and introduce themselves—Aaron Jackson and Lee Varchick. They’ve hosted both seasons prior so I’m not surprised by their appearance.
Then they introduce the judges. It’s different every season, so my mouth drops open when Michelin-star chef Lucca Buccola walks onto the set and takes a deep bow. Whoa, this is huge. He has thirteen restaurants throughout the world, all but one with at least two Michelin stars. And according to the trades, he just partnered with another well-known chef to create a restaurant consulting business. They’re hiring different positions of expertise, including chefs to fly around the world to their clients and consult on overhauling or creating restaurants. Not that I would ever be interested in something like that—I just want a bigger place for us and more control—but the concept fascinates me and would be a great opportunity. I glance at Mama, grinning, and she lifts an eyebrow, not understanding my excitement.
The other judge is introduced and just when I’ve closed my mouth, it falls back open, hitting the floor this time. Cassia Ellerson
