Page 19 of Matched with the Small Town Chef (Angel’s Peak #4)

The Fight

S leep evades me entirely. I spend the night crafting arguments and rehearsing speeches, and then discard them all as insufficient.

The truth is both simple and complicated: I love Hunter Morgan.

I love how he touches herbs with reverence, the intensity in his eyes when he describes a dish, and the gentleness in his hands that belies their strength.

I love the chef, the man, the soul beneath both.

And I've hurt him in the worst possible way.

Dawn breaks over the mountains, painting my room in a golden light that feels undeserved. I dress carefully—jeans, boots, and a forest-green sweater that Hunter once said brought out flecks of gold in my eyes. Armor of a different sort than my usual city black.

The Haven stirs to life around me as I make my way downstairs.

Staff members nod politely, unaware of yesterday's drama or too professional to acknowledge it.

In the dining room, a small group is gathered outside the private meeting room—Lucas Reid's sanctum.

Hunter stands among them, his back to me, shoulders rigid beneath his chef's jacket.

Miguel notices me first. His eyes widen in surprise and then relief. He tilts his head toward the meeting room door, silently telling me to step in.

"What's happening?" As I approach, I keep my voice low, directing the question to Miguel rather than risk Hunter's rejection.

"Lucas called a staff meeting. Said he has exciting news about Timberline's future." Miguel's expression says everything about what kind of "exciting" this news will be.

Hunter turns at the sound of my voice. The flash of emotion across his face is too complex to decipher—anger, yes, but something else beneath it. His eyes linger on my sweater for a heartbeat before his expression closes again.

"You're still here." Flat, uninflected.

"Had a change of plans." I hold his gaze, refusing to look away despite the discomfort pulsing between us.

"This is a private staff meeting." Each word is precisely enunciated, a chef's knife slicing through any pretense of civility.

"I invited her." Miguel straightens his spine, bracing for Hunter's reaction. "We need her."

Hunter's eyebrows draw together, betrayal freshly painted across his features. Before he can respond, the meeting room door swings open, and Lucas Reid emerges, expansive in his welcome.

"Everyone, please come in. It's an exciting day for Timberline." His gaze catches on me, surprise quickly masked by warmth. "Ms. Tristan, I didn't realize you were still in Angel's Peak. Please join us."

Hunter's jaw tightens, but he says nothing as we file into the room. A conference table dominates the space, and windows overlook the mountains that once seemed so promising to me. Now, they loom, impassive witnesses to whatever is about to unfold.

Lucas takes his position at the head of the table, tablet at the ready. Hunter remains standing while the rest of us—Miguel, the pastry chef, the sommelier, and two senior servers—take seats. I slide into a chair near the door, an outsider in every sense.

"First, I want to congratulate everyone on yesterday's review." Lucas beams with genuine pride. "The Executioner…uh, Audrey's stamp of approval is a game-changer for Timberline and The Haven. Reservations have tripled overnight."

Murmurs of excitement ripple through the staff. Only Hunter remains silent, arms crossed over his chest.

"This is our moment," Lucas continues. "Our opportunity to elevate Timberline to the next level. And I have some exciting new directions to discuss."

Here it comes. I lean forward, fingers pressed against the polished wood of the table.

"A restaurant group from Denver has approached me." Lucas swipes through his tablet. "They're interested in creating a partnership that would expand our reach. Pop-up dining experiences in major cities, a cookbook deal, possibly even a product line of signature sauces and spice blends."

The staff exchanges glances, uncertainty mixed with cautious interest.

"This would mean some adjustments to our concept, of course." Lucas's expression grows more serious. "More accessible menu items. Instagram-worthy presentations. Celebrity chef guest spots."

"You want to turn Timberline into a tourist trap." Hunter's voice cuts through the room like a blade, low but sharp.

Lucas meets Hunter's gaze steadily. "I want to capitalize on our success. The review praised your food, Hunter, but we must build on that foundation and create something with broader appeal."

"My food isn't a foundation for your franchise dreams. It's an expression of this place, these mountains, this community." Hunter's hands curl into fists at his sides, then deliberately relax. "We've discussed this before. My answer hasn't changed."

"The circumstances have." Lucas sets down his tablet, his expression grave. "The Haven is operating at a loss. You know this. Timberline is our only chance to turn things around, and I need a chef who understands the business reality."

The implied threat hangs in the air, clear to everyone present. My throat tightens as I watch the staff's expressions shift from excitement to concern.

"You're offering me an ultimatum." Hunter's voice remains steady. Tension coils in every line of his body. "Change my cooking or leave."

"I'm offering you an opportunity." Lucas leans forward. "One that many chefs would kill for. National exposure. Financial security. A chance to build something bigger than one restaurant in a town that most people couldn't find on a map."

"This town is my home." Simple words, profound in their conviction. "These people are my family. I returned to Angel's Peak to cook honest food that honors this place."

"Noble sentiments." Lucas's tone remains challenging. "But sentiments don't pay bills. The reality is that without changes, Timberline won't survive another year. Neither will The Haven."

"There are other ways to increase profitability without sacrificing our integrity." Hunter turns to Miguel. "The expansion plans we discussed—cooking classes, tasting menus featuring local producers, the winter foraging workshop series."

Miguel nods vigorously. "We've already had inquiries about all of those. People want authenticity, not gimmicks."

"People want whatever the market tells them to want." Lucas dismisses this with a wave. "And right now, the market wants spectacle and social media moments."

"I disagree." The words leave my mouth before I can second-guess them.

All eyes turn to me, Hunter's most piercing of all.

"Ms. Tristan." Lucas's voice carries a warning. "While we appreciate your professional opinion, this is an internal business discussion."

"A discussion about the future of a restaurant I just reviewed.

" I straighten in my chair, drawing on every ounce of Executioner authority.

"My readers didn't respond to Hunter's food because it was trendy or Instagram-worthy.

They responded because it was honest, passionate, and deeply connected to this place. "

Hunter's expression flickers with something—surprise, perhaps, or reluctant appreciation.

"With all due respect," Lucas's tone suggests none is actually due, "one positive review doesn't make you an expert on our business model."

"No, but fifteen years as a food critic does." I stand, mirroring Hunter's stance. "I've watched restaurants chase trends and lose their soul in the process. The most successful establishments—the ones with staying power—are those with a clear vision and the courage to stand by it."

"I’m not changing how I run my restaurant," Lucas says. "If you don’t like it, find another chef who will do everything for you. I won’t sacrifice the soul of Timberlake for a single dollar."

Lucas looks at me for a long moment, then at Hunter. Something shifts in his expression—not defeat, but a subtle transformation. He taps at his tablet, then sets it down decisively.

"And that," he says, his voice suddenly warm with approval, "is exactly the response I was hoping for."

The room goes still. Hunter's posture shifts minutely, confusion replacing anger.

"What?" he asks, the single word laden with suspicion.

Lucas's mouth curves into a genuine smile.

"Hunter, when you brought me your vision for Timberline years ago, I believed in it completely.

I still do. But after yesterday's review, we're going to be flooded with offers exactly like this one.

" He gestures to his tablet. "Some with much more money attached. "

He stands, moving around the table to face the staff as a group rather than from a position of authority.

"I needed to know if success would change our vision.

If the first sign of mainstream recognition would tempt us to compromise what makes Timberline special.

" He looks directly at Hunter. "I needed to hear you defend your food, this place, your community—not just to me, but to yourself and everyone in this room. "

Understanding dawns on the faces around the table. Miguel lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"You were testing us," he says.

"Not testing. Preparing." Lucas picks up his tablet again. "This offer is real. It came in at 6 AM. I've already drafted a refusal, but there will be others, and we need to be united in how we respond."

He swipes to a new screen and turns the tablet so we can all see.

"This is what I want to discuss today: a business plan based on Hunter and Miguel's authentic expansion ideas—cooking classes, producer partnerships, and foraging workshops.

I've run the numbers, and with some adjustments, they're viable. "

"You could have just said that from the beginning." Hunter's face remains guarded, but the rigid tension in his shoulders has eased.

"Would you have believed me if I hadn't shown you the temptation first?" Lucas raises an eyebrow. "You're stubborn, Hunter. Sometimes you need to be pushed to articulate why you believe in something so strongly."