Jenna Roland plated the final dish just as the wall clock struck half past eleven.

She exhaled deeply, massaging her aching lower back.

Tristan Ashcroft handed her a glass of water. "Miss Roland, take a break."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she accepted the glass. She hadn't stopped working all morning, not even for a sip of water.

"Thanks." She drained the glass in one go.

Removing her chef's hat and mask, she said, "Manager Ashcroft, I'll leave the serving to your team."

Stepping out of the kitchen, Jenna finally noticed her disheveled appearance. Her white T-shirt clung to her skin with sweat, damp bangs stuck to her forehead, and the heavy scent of cooking oil permeated her clothes.

She bit her lip. These distinguished guests deserved better than a sweat-drenched chef at Grandma Blanche's birthday banquet.

Her phone vibrated. Grandma Blanche was calling.

"Grandma, all the dishes are ready," she whispered. "Something urgent came up—I need to leave early. Wishing you boundless happiness and eternal youth."

In the banquet hall, Grandma Blanche shot to her feet. "What? You're leaving?"

The entire table turned at her outburst.

Grandpa Harrison Roscente frowned. "Who's leaving? Jenna?"

"After working all morning?" Grace Roscente huffed.

Ignoring them, Grandma Blanche turned to Ethan Roscente. "Bring her back."

Ethan set down his napkin and strode out.

——

Jenna crouched beside her car in the parking lot, waiting for her ride. Footsteps approached from behind.

She turned to see Ethan silhouetted against the sunlight.

"Why are you here?" She scrambled to her feet.

His gaze swept over her damp clothes. "Grandma sent me to retrieve a deserter."

Jenna tugged at her sweat-stained shirt. "I'd ruin everyone's appetite looking like this."

"True. You're rather unappetizing."

Her eyes widened. "Must you be so blunt?"

"But no one cares about that." His tone shifted. "Don't you want to taste your own lobster?"

Jenna froze. She hadn't eaten seafood since her mother passed away.