She patted her hair and smoothed her hands down the sides of the fitted Bardot top she wore before she realized that made her look nervous and stopped.
“Hello there, Mr. Gilbert. It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
“Hello, Rosalinda.”
She furrowed her brow at hearing her given name but smiled at him. “No one calls me Rosalind. I’m Indy. Indy Belmont.” She kept talking because he stood there, sort of glaring at her but not full-on glaring. It made her nervous.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Why did you challenge me?” he responded.
“Oh, well, I’m not sure if you know it or not, but people in this town believe there is a curse that involves your family. It’s keeping business away and slowly killing the town,” she said. “I have a show where—”
“I know about your show,” he said.
“Oh, do you watch it?”
She wasn’t nervous now. He was even better looking in person. The scar on the side of his face just added to his appeal, making him look dangerous in a safe-but-sexy way. He was taller than she’d expected as well, and compared to her five foot five inches he was about a foot taller than her.
There was a leashed power in him that made the air around him almost crackle and she felt a shiver down her spine. He looked like a man who took what he wanted. Not that anyone would say no to him. He was watching her so keenly that she was hyperaware of her body and her femininity. She didn’t feel threatened or unsafe—just seen. Seen in a way that she hadn’t been in a long time.
She pushed her glasses up on her nose and gave him another smile as he stood there, still watching her.
“Want to grab some coffee before we start filming and I’ll give you the details?”
“No. Tell me what you know about the curse,” he said in a grumbly voice.
“Does this brooding asshole thing work for you?” she asked. Realizing he was just going to keep pushing unless she put a stop to it.
“I prefer to think of myself as laser focused rather than asshole.”
“I guess that’s in the eyes of the beholder,” she said, turning and walking away.
Two
In person, Rosalinda Belmont was more vibrant than he’d expected. That video hadn’t captured her vitality at all. She’d looked slightly rough-around-the-edges. In person she glowed. She had long curly hair which she wore at the top of her head in a high ponytail. She had a curvy figure revealed by high-waisted sailor-style jeans and a plain three-quarter-length-sleeve ballet top.
He was still annoyed with the way she dismissed him.
“She’s cute. Actually, this whole town is. Remind me again why you hate it,” his sous chef, Rita, said, interrupting his thoughts as she joined him at his bench.
He ignored the comment because it wasn’t any of her business and directed her to get the prep done before he moved off to check on the rest of the mise en place for cooking.
He hated this town because it reminded him of who he had been. How he’d looked down on the townspeople as not being as good as he was. He had hated mingling with them, something his grandfather had reinforced.
The accident had changed all of that, and being back here stirred too much of the man he’d been. He didn’t like it.
Conrad was familiar with the setup of the tent as it was always the same and set to his preferences. Ophelia made sure he had a bench where he could work by himself, and that Rita was set to the left side where she could hand him things and be filmed doing her part.
He noticed that Ms. Belmont was chatting with another woman with short red hair and a rounded face. She looked sort of familiar like maybe he’d known her when he’d grown up in Gilbert Corners. But he wasn’t interested in renewing any acquaintances; he wanted to do this cook and get out of here.
She glanced over and waved at him before walking toward him. He stood where he was, sharpening the knives he planned to use during the show because he knew a lot of home chefs found that intimidating.
“Sorry for losing my temper with you earlier. I just really don’t deal well with...beasts,” she said with a flash of a gamine grin that sent a bolt of heat through him.
“No problem. You were right—I was being an ass. Normally my challengers refer to me as Chef Gilbert, not The Beast.”
She laughed. A light, tinkling sound that he noticed drew the attention of several of the production crew, which annoyed him.