Basil Leaves
440 Words
Ember's Pov:
The kitchen of Ember & Thyme was alive.
Heat rose from the stoves. The air was thick with garlic, butter, and onions.
Knives tapped rhythmically. Pans hissed as oil met flame.
And in the middle of all that chaos…
I was losing my mind.
Over one recipe.
One.
I kept debating — bay leaf or not?
“What's wrong, my beautiful boss?”
Marcus.
Of course.
Leaning casually like he owned the place.
Marcus was tall, broad-shouldered, warm brown skin, and carried the relaxed confidence of someone who had conquered kitchens across the world. His sleeves were rolled, forearms dusted with flour. A faint scar crossed one knuckle — proof that kitchens were war zones.
“I don’t like this recipe,” I admitted. “I’m confused.”
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Then moved behind me.
I shifted slightly away.
Marcus leaned over the counter, fully focused.
Then he reached past me.
His arm brushed mine.
Not intentional.
Probably.
Still…
My heart skipped.
He picked up a small basil leaf and placed it beside the sauce.
Then stepped back, satisfied.
“There you are, girlll.”
I stared.
“You added a leaf.”
He clutched his chest dramatically.
“It’s not a leaf. It’s art.”
I rolled my eyes.
“This is a competition dish, Marcus. Judges will examine everything.”
“And they will weep,” he said confidently. “Because it’s that good.”
“They might weep because we’re disqualified.”
He leaned closer.
“If that happens… I’ll challenge them to a fight.”
“You can’t fight judges.”
“I’ll learn to.”
I laughed.
And just like that
Marcus smiled.
Mission accomplished.
“You’re overthinking,” he said gently.
“This competition matters.”
“I’ve worked across Africa, Asia, and now the United States,” he said proudly, beating his chest. “And I can say this boldly — you’re one of the best chefs in the world.”
I smiled.
“Stop flattering.”
“I’m not. In fact, I’m also the best head chef you’ll ever see.”
I rolled my eyes again.
But he wasn’t wrong.
Then suddenly — serious.
“One mini contest can’t define you. Don’t let it.”
His eyes softened.
“But if we lose…”
He turned dramatically, walking off.
“I’m blaming the basil leaf.”
I shook my head.
How did I end up with him?
But as the kitchen slowly fell silent during break…
A strange thought crept into my mind.
Between Marcus’s warmth…
And that man from my dream...
Why did they feel…
dangerously similar?
- Writer
