Free Fire In the Kitchen by Donna Allen

time you go to bed, if you’re sensible.” She pushed her glasses down her nose and looked at Cassidy. “Mary Poppins isn’t going to tell you when that should be, so don’t blow it.”
    “Yes, boss.” Cassidy held her hands in a praying position. “I seem to be outnumbered and in need of some non-competitive company to keep me sane. Wanna catch up for coffee later? I do a great macchiato.”
    “And that would really put you to sleep, wouldn’t it? I’m not allowed to socialize with the contestants, so thank you but no.” Pearl pursed her lips. “Most of those chefs enjoy receiving praise, so if you don’t want to be alone through this, just tell them how fantastic you think they all are. Fake it to make it.”
    “Not my style.”
    Cassidy saw the glint in the older woman’s eyes and knew there was more to come.
    “Well, it’s either that, or the promoters have given you all butcher knives as welcoming gifts,” she whispered. “You could use them early.”
    “Thanks, Pearl, that sounds more like it. I’ve brought a few of my own—even sharper than their supposed wit.”
    The woman wrote something on a notepad, tore the sheet off, and folded it twice before handing it over. “I forgot to include one last piece of information in your pack. Read it later. Your room is up the stairs, third floor, second door on the left. Now get out of here, missy, I’ve got work to do.”
    Cassidy went back to the entrance for her heavy suitcase, delivered by her future stepfather when he’d dropped her off. She pulled it to the staircase and looked up, wondering if there was a lift she could use instead of dragging it up one long step at a time. If there wasn’t an elevator, the stairs were going to become her torment, along with the delightful chefs behind her. She put down her bags, unfolded the note Pearl had given her and read it.
    Don’t let the bastards get you down.
    *
    Whenever Dante was near Cassidy, he felt a protective pull. He wanted to look after her, but she’d already made it clear she didn’t need a caretaker. He stood unnoticed and watched the scene before him. He’d heard what they’d said about her and had been about to join them to defend her, but he’d seen she didn’t need his help. She’d spoken to the chefs with such a pleasant tone, he was sure her insult had gone over some of their heads. Creative cooking wasn’t her only talent.
    His cousin Carlos was taking center stage for all the wrong reasons. He was bragging about his latest challenge that had a name. Cassidy .
    Dante saw her dragging her suitcase up the stairs, so heavy it must have contained a hundred cookbooks. He made his way toward the stairs to assist her when Carlos saw what he was about to do.
    “Cassidy.” Carlos’ loud voice carried far. “Want to catch up some more later? Just you and me?”
    Cassidy took a few more steps and turned. Dante felt a whoosh of sunshine spread through his body. She had something over him, around him, and inside him that wasn’t going to go away.
    “I think I’m going to be a while,” she called back. “Maybe some other time.” Her voice had a hesitant edge.
    “Need a hand?” Carlos passed Dante to the base of the stairs and held onto the end of the banister.
    “No thanks, I’m good.”
    She made her way up the first flight, her suitcase thumping down hard on every step. At last, she reached the top of the first set and pulled her case around a corner and out of everyone’s view. The sound of the banging suitcase started up again and Dante realized she must have reached the second set of stairs. The sounds became further and further apart, the gutsy lady had obviously let her guard down once out of sight and was moving up the rest of the stairs at a slower pace.
    “I’ll catch up with you, young lady, after lights out,” Carlos said for the benefit of his male audience, knowing she would be out of earshot. They patted him on the back and continued to make derogatory