Free Hot Under Pressure by Louisa Edwards Page A

everyone else into the cool interior of the Ferry Building, he only vaguely registered Max’s worried tone as he questioned Jules about the phone call from back home in New York.
    Most of Beck’s attention was on his surroundings. The Ferry Building sure hadn’t looked like this when Beck lived in Oakland.
    Even with its high domed ceiling and skylights, it felt dim after the glare off the water outside. Automatically adjusting for the decreased visibility, Beck barely listened as the rest of his team chatted excitedly about the produce they’d seen and what dishes they wanted to make.
    The words of the challenge itself kept playing themselves out over and over in Beck’s head.
    One dish that sums up your cooking style, who you are as a chef …
    So who are you, Henry Beck?
    That was a question he’d avoided answering for a long time.
    He knew what he could accomplish. He had absolute confidence in his own ability to survive, to overcome, to succeed. The Navy had given him that, and for a long time, it had been enough.
    “I’m going to make ramen,” Max announced. “With a sous-vide duck egg and barbecued pork belly. It’s the perfect blend of ancient traditions and cutting-edge techniques and ingredients.”
    “So it’s perfectly you,” Jules said, squeezing his arm with an intimate smile. “I’m thinking about a play on steak frites, making my own skinny fries, some kind of horseradish crème fraiche. Maybe doing the beef raw, like a tartar or a carpaccio. Haven’t decided.”
    “Talk about perfectly you.” Her best friend, Danny, laughed. “Dad would bust his whites open, he’d be so proud.”
    Danny and Max were brothers, and their father, Gus, owned Lunden’s Tavern, where the entire East Coast team worked. Jules was the executive chef at Lunden’s, and she’d been working there since her teens. She liked to say the Lunden family taught her everything she knew about life, love, family, and red meat.
    Beck wondered what that would be like, to be so accepted into someone else’s family that they honestly thought of you as theirs.
    Coming up through the foster care system, Beck had seen a lot of families interact with kids who didn’t truly belong to them, and until he’d met Jules and the Lunden clan, he would’ve sworn that kind of unconditional acceptance wasn’t possible.
    It definitely hadn’t been for him.
    Danny, the team’s pastry chef, was going on about some fruity creation he wanted to try, using some of the farm-fresh produce the vendors were selling outside, and Beck forced himself to tune back into the strategy session just as Winslow appeared at his side, holding two white paper cups billowing fragrant steam.
    “Here, man,” Winslow said, offering one of the coffees. “Got you some.”
    “Thanks.” Beck was surprised, and covered it by reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
    “Nothing, nothing, it’s on me.” Winslow grinned that bright, hundred-and-fifty-watt grin, but it didn’t really reach his light green eyes.
    Beck suppressed a sigh, knowing Winslow still blamed himself for the part he’d played in instigating the big confrontation with Skye back in Chicago.
    Beck would have to find a way to let the kid know it wasn’t a big deal, but now wasn’t the time. They all needed to be focused on the upcoming challenge.
    “So what are you thinking of making?” Jules asked Winslow, curiosity brightening her brown eyes to amber.
    “Oh, you know,” Win said vaguely. “A salad, maybe. To round out the meal. I’m cool with filling in, whatever the menu needs.”
    A slight frown creased Jules’s forehead. “I’m not sure that’s the point of the challenge,” she reminded him gently. “They want us to come up with a signature dish. Basically, you on a plate.”
    “So I’m a salad.” Winslow shrugged, avoiding everyone’s gaze as he took a sip of his coffee. “Or a nice veggie soup, something light and bright and full of flavor.