Chapter 6: Morning after Clarity

Grace awoke to the sound of sizzling bacon and the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee, scents that had grown as common as her daily alarm. Sunlight flooded through her bedroom windows, and for a minute, she allowed herself to enjoy the comfortable routine that had built over the previous few weeks.

Then the recollection of last night washed over her like icy water.

"Maybe that's exactly what you need."

Max's words lingered in her thoughts, as did the sensation of his fingertips against her cheek and the warmth in his gaze as he stared at her under the streetlight. They'd walked the rest of the way home in peaceful silence, but the tension between them was palpable, electric and terrifying in equal parts.

She'd escaped to her room with a murmured goodnight, but sleep remained elusive. Faced with the prospect of meeting Max at breakfast, Grace pondered hiding in her room until he departed for work.

But it would be cowardly, and Grace Chen was anything but a coward.

She dressed carefully in her customary work attire: pressed pants, neat blouse, hair pulled back as protection against the vulnerability she felt last night. When she came out, she saw Max by the stove, looking incredibly serene for someone who had bared his soul.

"Morning," he replied without glancing around. "Coffee's fresh."

His tone was casual and friendly, with no sign that anything had changed. Grace had a sting of disappointment.

"Thanks," she said, pouring coffee and sitting at the kitchen island. "How are you feeling about last night?"

Max turned with dishes in hand, and she noticed something flit over his face amusement, perhaps, or soft understanding.

"Trivia was fun," he murmured as he served her breakfast. "Turns out I enjoy winning."

"You are competitive. "I noticed."

"Occupational hazard." He sat across from her. "How are you? Do you have any regrets about our victory?

The question felt laden, but his demeanor remained neutral. Was he inquiring about trivia or the talk that followed?

"No regrets," Grace stated thoughtfully.

They ate in peaceful stillness, but Grace became acutely aware of every movement he made the way he sliced his bacon into exact pieces, the little wrinkle between his brows when he thought, the morning light striking gold flecks in his brown eyes.

"I should get going," she finally remarked, standing up to rinse her dish. "Big presentation this afternoon."

"The Henderson account?"

She hesitated, astonished that he recalled. "Yes. How did you…..?

"You mentioned it last week." Max smiled warmly. "You'll do well. "You always do."

The nonchalant assurance in his speech made her chest tighten. When did he start paying such close attention?

"How about you?" "Is it a busy day?"

"Menu planning." And I have to contact the Montrose people back."

Grace's hand remained still on the dish towel. "You do?"

"They want an answer by Friday." Max's tone was carefully neutral. "That's an excellent deal, Grace. Executive chef with full creative authority and profit share."

"It sounds incredible," she replied, but the words felt like glass in her throat.

"It is." He moved to stand next to her at the sink. She got close enough to smell his fragrance. "The question is whether incredible is enough."

Grace's phone chimed before she could inquire what he meant. There is an emergency client meeting. She grabbed her handbag, desperate to leave.

"I have to run," she said. "See you tonight?"

"I'll be here," Max said, and something about his tone made her pause.

"Max……."

"Have a good day, Grace," he murmured softly. "Knock 'em dead."