Page 23 of A Chef's Kiss for Christmas

“Well, it’s not fine now. They’re ruining people’s desserts.” He swung around to the two guys, who both took a subtle step back. “You can get out of the kitchen, the pair of you!” He flicked his hand. “Go home.”

Ivy stepped in front of him. “You can’t just send them home.”

“I can,” he growled at her. “You can leave as well. Apparently, I have desserts to make.” He turned on the two chefs who hadn’t budged. “I saidgo home.”

“Wait!” Anna said, raising a hand and gesturing for Liam and his colleague to stop. “You’re not going anywhere. Please make the desserts. Don’t forget the chocolate sauce.” She turned to Warren. “Youneed to get out of the kitchen.”

He glared at her. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t be in the kitchen when you’re in this mood.” She pointed to the back door. “Get out. Now.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“Please, Warren. Just go.”

“She’s right,” Ivy said, touching his arm.

He shrugged her off and strode to the back door, throwing it open so hard that it bounced back on the hinges.

“You take care of the kitchen,” Anna whispered to Ivy. “I’ll deal with him.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Quietly, Anna closed the back door behind her and descended the handful of steps to the car park where Warren was pacing.

“They’re a bunch of idiots,” he said, jabbing a finger towards the kitchen. “I can’t even leave them alone for one evening without them making a mess of things.”

“They were doing fine,” she said, eyes following him as he walked back and forth.

His whole body radiated anger. “He only had to put two things on the plate! How could he forget one of them?”

Anna let the silence linger for a moment. “Did you throw a plate?”

“No. She dropped it.”

Things weren’t as bad as they could’ve been then. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“He messed up the order.”

“I know that, but I’m fairly sure it’s not actually the chocolate sauce you’re upset about. You were furious before you even went into the kitchen.”

He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I feel like punching something.”

“There’s a wall over there,” she said, pointing.

Finally, he stopped pacing and stared at her. “You think I should punch the wall?”

“God, no.” She shook her head. “That would hurt. I was thinking you could lie down and put your legs up the wall. According to Carla, it will stop you from wanting to punch things. Or people. Whatever it is, you feel like punching.”

His laughter wasn’t exactly the heartfelt kind, but he seemed to relax a little.

“What’s going on?” Anna asked again.

He pushed his palms into his temples before dragging his hands through his hair. “My dad asked me to go and work for him.”

“I assume you said no.”

“Of course I said no.”