southern chefs

every type of american cooking show contestant
  • the amateur chef that likes to cook for fun and doesn’t know how they made it that far into the show
  • the struggling chef with a tragic backstory
  • the loud italian that won’t stop making italian food and announcing that they’re italian every chance they get
  • the chef that’s only good at making desserts and panics when it’s an entrée
  • the southern chef that goes on about fried chicken, sweet potatoes, pies, corn, and their family of 40 all the time
  • the care-free charismatic chef that’s just there for the experience and is okay with going home
  • that one chef that always does everything last minute and can’t manage their time even if their life depended on it
  • the chef that’s always safe and never wins anything and then the one time they try and do something different they get eliminated
  • the one stressed-out chef that never knows what the hell they’re doing but manages to succeed and pull-through with their dish every time
  • the overconfident hardcore chef that wants to destroy everybody there and tries to cheat if they get the chance
  • the asian chef that makes delicious dishes and plates them in a gorgeous way every time
  • the edgy chef with tattoos up and down their arms that no one really has a problem with
  • an extremely experienced chef that shouldn’t even be there
  • the chef that won’t stop taking risks and putting twists on all of their dishes
  • the chef that we barely get to know and gets eliminated first and can barely remember that they ever existed by the end of the show
  • the hipster that always talks about their blog/food photography and gives an “urban” and “rustic” look to all of their dishes for aesthetic and sometimes names their dishes too
  • that one chef that’s a klutz, won’t stop messing up almost every single one of their dishes, always forgets ingredients, and completely doesn’t belong there yet somehow made it farther than most people for no reason whatsoever
  • the californian chef that won’t stop making mexican food and seafood
  • the foreign chef that’s just excited to be on the show
  • that one vegan/vegetarian chef that complains a lot
  • the mom that has kids at home and won’t stop mentioning how she’s cooking for them
every episode of cutthroat kitchen
  • white lady with red lipstick: im hear to prove i can be sexy and a cook :))))
  • 20-something white guy: im the best chef here
  • southern chef with a weird nickname: HOWDY THEY CALL ME THE KITCHEN COWBOY
  • old dude: im old

Prompt: Head chef at the restaurant that makes their favourite meal in town

Words: 4888

Warnings: None that I’m aware of outside of SMUT.

Style/Type: Female Reader Insert

Main Character: Sam Winchester

Author’s Note: So, I cheated…I wrote a companion piece for Dean. I’m Dean trash, didn’t you know? But I didn’t want it to take the limelight away from Sam, so it’s also tagged GIEPP and it is titled G-Man, found on my blog. I’m still new at Tumblr, so I don’t know how to add the link to this page. Plus, I couldn’t upload it from my computer, I had to use my iPad, which sucks. But anyways, go search it out if you want to read it. I’ll upload it as soon as I finish fighting this one.

Without further ado, here is Sam and his saucy southern chef…

You blew out a breath. It was almost closing time and you were exhausted. When your mother had the bright idea to open a gourmet cheeseburger joint, you’d been more than a little surprised. When you realized she did it because she was dying and she wanted you to have a decent nest egg when she went, you sobbed like a baby for three days. But now, eight years later, “Avec Fromage” was a resounding success. You’d been featured on countless morning shows, the food network had done a spotlight on you, and you’d even been on an episode of Chopped, which you lost, but only because really? What the hell do you DO with beets for dessert besides use them as food coloring for ice cream?! It still burned your ass you’d lost that one. But Alton Brown liked you, and, hell, Alton was one cool cat. Even Guy Fieri liked you. So, when the order came in, ten minutes before closing, you growled out a breath as you read Crystal’s scribble. “One special, and one SALAD?!”

Crystal shrugged. “Yeah. Two dudes. Both of them are hot, even if they’re kind of old. I mean, I’d do them. Especially the shorter one. Yum.”

Crys was seventeen. She thought anyone over twenty five was old. “Salad? Seriously?! In MY restaurant?!”

“Here we go,” the sous chef muttered under her breath. “It IS on the menu, Y/N.”

“I don’t give a shit. You don’t order salads in a gourmet cheeseburger joint!!” you bellowed. “Not on my watch!” You crumpled up the paper in your hand and stalked out to the dining room toward the only table left occupied.

“I’m telling ya, Sammy,” you heard the stockier one say, “I can’t believe you ordered a damn salad, you freak. I heard this joint has the best burgers ever, even if I don’t know what the hell ‘Avec Fromage’ means.”

The taller of the two, Sammy, you guessed his name was, shot the other one what you could only call an 'epic bitch face’ as he said, “It means 'With Cheese’ in French, Dean. It’s tongue-in-cheek.”

Well, you could appreciate the fact he knew what it meant, even if he had crappy taste in meals. “'Scuse me, fellas. Which one of you ordered a damn salad in my establishment?”

The stockier one, Dean, pointed to the other guy. “Sam did. Personally, I’ve been dying to try your burgers since I saw you on Chopped. Said if we ever made it back to North Carolina, I was going to give this joint a go.”

Your eyes narrowed at the taller guy. He was gorgeous, you’d give him that. Long and lean, a long, tall, drink of water, your mama would have said. “So, you’re the problem. Seriously, you come HERE and order a SALAD?! Dude, we’re KNOWN for our BURGERS! Might as well go to Starbucks and order a lemonade!”

The other guy let out a chuckle. “I tried to tell him the same damn thing.”

The tall guy shrugged. “Yeah, sorry, I just like to eat healthier, you know? No offense, really.”

You put your hand on your hip. It was the same damn argument you’d been having for eight years. In the world of “healthier” and “vegan” you’d fought your fair share of fights against the critics. Also, you weren’t as skinny as all those supermodels that graced the covers of magazines, but you were healthy, damn it. “Are you sayin’ I ain’t healthy? My MAMA made this, place, made it just for me before she died of cancer, you douche. You sayin’ SHE wasn’t healthy?! I’ll have you know, my mama was as healthy as a damn horse until the cancer stole her from me. Do you have ANY idea how much fat is in the dressing on your precious SALAD?! Don’t EVEN get me started!”

Dean crossed his arms and smirked.

Sam just looked at you like you were crazy, and maybe you were, but you were passionate about your food. “Fine! Fine! Give me the damn cheeseburger!”

“Thank you!” you roared. “How would you like it cooked?”

“Will you bite my head off if I say well done?”

You shot him a glare and walked off muttering about how he needed more meat on his bones anyway. As you walked, you heard him whisper-yell, “Well, hell, now I kinda feel obliged to ask, is all this shit deep-fried in CRAZY?!”

You smirked. Hell yes, we’re all crazy, you thought. And I’d like to unleash that crazy on you as I strip you naked and cover you in… You blinked as you realized where your thoughts had taken you. You needed to get laid. Not many guys realized you didn’t want kids, didn’t want a relationship, just some nice, no strings attached sex. You’d always heard guys liked that, but so far, you hadn’t found any that weren’t clingy as all hell.

You walked back into the kitchen and your sous-chef smirked. “Get him straightened out, did you?”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Just cook the damn meat.” You glanced at Crystal. “Go on home, shug. I’ll handle serving them.”

“You sure?

"Positive. I’ve got something special in mind for him.”

The two women just looked at you with wide eyes. You ignored them and began puttering around, getting everything ready and you constructed two of the most glorious looking cheeseburgers in existence along with your signature side. You hoisted the tray onto your shoulder and bussed your way out to the table. You presented the dish to Dean first, who looked like he would have chewed his own arm off to get to it, before you sat the plate in front of Sam.

“Here ya go,” you told him, laying your southern accent on all the thicker. “A gourmet cheeseburger featuring a thick slab of applewood smoked bacon, with baby spinach, white cheddar and sautéed mushrooms. Served with a side of my signature sweet potato fries and chocolate sea salt. It’ll make you slap yo mama….”

Dean took a huge bite and whimpered. “Marry me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He was a cutie, but you had a thing for tall, sweet fellas, and his friend fit the bill to a T, even if he did have shitty taste in meals. “Sorry, sugar. You’re not my type.”

He swallowed and smirked. “Why? You into chicks?”

That caused a belly laugh. The number of times you’d been called a lesbian, a shrew, a damn tease, well, you were used to it. “Nope. I like guys just fine. Just not your type. No offense.”

He shrugged. “None taken.”

You eyed Sam a moment, wishing he would just try the damn burger already. “It won’t bite, you know,” you chided softly.

He blinked and looked up at you, licking his lips, and that one action sent tingles straight to your clit and you had to resist the urge to shiver as your mouth went dry. “I, uh, I gotta go…uh, enjoy your meal,” you managed as you backed away and fled to the safety of the kitchen. Once there, you cursed yourself and your nerves. It had been a long time since you’d gotten any, and certainly nothing from the likes of him. You had the feeling, as he sized you up, he was the hunter and you were the prey.

You composed yourself, cursing the looks your favorite sous chef was giving you as she was cleaning up the kitchen. To keep costs down, the two of you usually cleaned the kitchen on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, which weren’t as crowded. You were close friends, so she didn’t mind helping you out.

“Want me to go check on them for you?” she offered, jarring you from thinking about his lips, imagining them on your body, working his way down from your neck, over your breasts, down you stomach, diving right into your…

“Y/N!” she called.

You blinked. “Huh?”

She smirked. “I suggest you go out there and fuck him good and proper.”

“What? No! I mean, surely he’s…”

“No ring,” she stated. At your look, she said, “What? I refilled their drinks earlier. And they’re not gay, because the shorter one looks like he wants me for dessert.”

You smirked at that. “You should go for it. I know your breakup with Sean was rough, but it was a year ago…”

She frowned. “This is about you, not me. I’m perfectly content with my little plastic friend and my rub reel. I mean, have you SEEN Chris Evans lately?! The things I’d like to do to Captain America. God bless the U.S.A. is all I gotta say…”

You giggled but then sobered. “Yeah, they’re, uh, probably ready for their bill.” You squared your shoulders and headed out the door.

“Maybe he’s ready for some Y/N on a platter for dessert!” she called behind you.

“I’m gonna kill her,” you muttered as you headed back toward their table. You had to gasp out a breath as you saw him licking his fingers. He was chuckling at something Dean had said and he had this little dimple that winked and there was mirth in his eyes and for a moment, the world just stopped. You cleared your throat and walked up to the table. “So? What did you think, Sam, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Sam. And it was awesome. I mean, seriously. Probably the best thing I’ve put in my mouth for a while.” Dean guffawed and Sam seemed to realize how that sounded because his cheeks pinked just slightly. At that moment, he looked like an adorable, if oversized, puppy. You loved dogs. You had three at home.

Dean was all smiles as he asked, “Hey, uh, we were wondering, what’s your dessert menu look like?”

Sam whispered through clenched teeth, “Dammit, Dean, STOP IT.”

So your wingman is helping you out, huh? I respect that. So you smiled and said, “We have a mouth-watering peach cobbler.”

Dean licked his lips. “You don’t say? Well, that happens to be my brother’s favorite,” he told you, earning a kick under the table from Sam.

Your eyebrow popped up as you looked at Sam. “Really?! Then you might as well go whole-hog, get it ala mode, what do you say?”

Sam chuckled nervously, “Uh, s-sounds great.”

“Great, I’ll bring it right out.”

As you walked away, you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Sam reach across the table and punch Dean in the shoulder. “OW! What the hell?! You should be thanking me. You WILL be, when you’re eating that cobbler off of her…”

“Will. You. SHUT UP! I came here for a meal, not a piece of ass!”

“And that, my friend, is your problem. She wants you, and you don’t even know it.”

“WHAT?! Dean, she nearly put a hit out on me for ordering a salad! How could you possibly have gotten anything else from that?!”

“Believe me, bro…I KNOW.”

“And how, Obi Wan, do you know that?!”

You could hear Dean’s smirk. “Because, I’ve had my fair of southern sweet tea. And you know what the T stands for?”

“Please. For the love of God. Stop.”

“That’s what SHE said…”

“Okay, I’m seriously losing my appetite here, Dean, you done?”

You heard Dean mutter, “Fine, be a prude.”

Your eyes were wide as saucers as you breached the kitchen.


You shook your head. “I, uh…I think he’s interested.”

“So? Go for it! You’re not shy like I am. Go get you that long tall drink of water! Did he want dessert?”

“P-Peach cobbler.”

She nodded and went about heating up a serving. It was your grandma’s recipe and it was delicious. Fat filled and laden with calories. You couldn’t believe it was his favorite. Maybe he liked to indulge every once in a while. You’d like to indulge in him…

“Y/N? Here ya go.”

“Ala mode,” you croaked.

She smirked and went to get the vanilla bean ice cream. She returned with the cobbler and handed it to you. “You can say no,” she told you. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go through with it. I know you.”

She was right. You were almost regretting walking away from him and you hadn’t even done it yet. Your mind made up, you took the dish away from her and marched yourself right over to Sam and all but sang, “Here you go!” as you placed the steaming plate in front of Sam.

“Thanks, this looks…great, really.” He was about to put a bite in his mouth when you told him, “You know, we accept all kinds of gratuities.” Sam stopped cold as you leaned in and whispered what you’d like to do with him and that cobbler. And it was oh so inventive.

You glanced at Dean, who was trying desperately to hear what you were whispering in Sam’s ear but it was too low. He couldn’t hear it. But you felt sure he figured it out as Sam blushed and dropped his fork.

You straightened and shrugged a shoulder. “The choice is yours, sugar.” You glanced at Dean and winked. “Y'all have a good night,” you purred before you sauntered away. You went to take off your apron, your toque, and grabbed your purse, glancing at the pair of men out of the corner of your eye.

Dean looked at Sam, who appeared to be in complete shock. “Sam? SAM!” Snapping his fingers in Sam’s face, he brought the other man out of his stupor. “Dude, what’d she say to you?”

Sam looked at Dean, then swallowed hard. “She, uh, she said…” He looked down at the cobbler, then looked back up at Dean. “She wants me to, uhm…” He looked down at his plate again before snatching it up as he all but jumped from the table, heading in your direction, muttering, “I gotta go. See ya, Dean.”

“Wear a condom!” Dean shouted after him, laughing.

You let out a giggle as Sam suddenly appeared in your face. “Are we…?”

You smiled and took his hand. “Let’s go, sugar. I swear, I’ll work that cheeseburger off of you before the night is out.” You led him out to your car; a nice, large sports car because you liked speed, but you also liked taking your friends out to party on occasion.

He collapsed into your passenger seat, precariously balancing the cobbler in his lap, covering his erection. You licked your lips hungrily. “You ready for a ride, sweetheart?”

He grinned. “Call me old fashioned, but do you have a name?”

You laughed out loud. “Y/N. It’s Y/N.”

“Beautiful. Just like you.”

You gunned the engine and tore ass toward your apartment. “Hope you like dogs. I’ve got three and they’ll have to sniff all over before…” You cleared your throat. “Well, they’ll have to give you the once over.”

He beamed brightly. “I love dogs.”

“Good. Listen, I gotta tell you, I don’t do relationships, okay? I got my dogs and my business, and…”

He nodded. “My brother and I, we travel a lot with our job. Matter of fact, we’re based out of Kansas.”

“Cool. You ever met Dorothy?” You snorted at your little joke.

To your surprise, he sobered. “Yeah. I’ve met her.”

Your eyebrow rose, but figuring he had an ex named Dorothy, you let that one slide. Everyone had a crazy ex. Yours was named Godfrey, and he was a megadouche.

“So, I don’t do this often,” he admitted.

You smiled. “Yeah, me either.”

“You live close by?” he wondered.

You simply nodded as you pulled into the parking garage. “I usually walk but it was raining this morning.” You got out and led him to the elevator. Now that you had him here, your nerves were getting the better of you.

“Y/N, it’s okay, we don’t have to…”

You smiled at him and felt something stir in you as the doors closed. He was a decent guy. That was rare. “I’m good. Come on. You should meet Oscar, Octavia, and Olivia.”

“You got a thing for O names?”

You chuckled. “Oscar is mine, Octavia was my moms, and my niece found and named Olivia. Apparently there’s some pig cartoon with the same name. It’s obnoxious as fuck.”

He let out a belly laugh and followed you to down the hall to your place. He cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure you have dogs?”

You nodded. “They’re very well trained.” You unlocked the door, took the cobbler from him, and sure enough, three wagging tails of various sizes greeted you. To your surprise, he knelt down and started giving the dogs love. “Hey, guys. Hi. I’m Sam.”

Of course, the dogs loved the attention and were all over him. He let out a laugh and landed on his butt, causing you to snap a picture with your phone. You’d managed to bring home a gorgeous guy that loved dogs, was it Christmas?

“Sam, uh…” you began.

“Oh! Sorry, Y/N. I just got distracted…”

“So I see,” you stated in amusement. “You know, if you wanted, we don’t have to…”

You trailed off as that white hot heat lit his eyes. “I want you, Y/N. Now.”

You shivered slightly at the tone of his voice and your mouth went dry. All thoughts of the dogs were forgotten as he stood and began to stalk you. “Bedroom,” he commanded and you slowly led the way, walking backward, down the hall, toward your room. You vaguely remembered sitting down the cobbler somewhere along the way…

He reached out with those huge hands and grabbed you, one hand going to your face, the other, to your hip, which he squeezed. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled as he shoved you into the wall, kissing you for all he was worth. His tongue slid against your lips, begging entrance, and you eagerly acquiesced, moaning as his tongue battled yours.

You reached your hands up into his gorgeous hair, tugging slightly, and he moaned as his hands continued their exploration of your body until they found the button on your black pants. He unfastened them and you felt them pool at your feet and you stepped out of them, toeing off your sensible shoes as you went. You gave a little shove and you switched positions. You didn’t mind being the aggressor on occasion, and he seemed eager enough to let you run the show. For now. You had the feeling he’d be back in control before the night was over.

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders and it joined your pants, then you started unbuttoning those little white buttons on his dress shirt, one by one as he did the same thing on your blouse. Once you had his top half naked, you noticed an odd tattoo on his left pec. You pulled away and traced it lightly with your finger, following the shape of the star. “You’re not into devil worship, are you?” you couldn’t help but to ask. You weren’t worried. He was a big guy, but Oscar was a pit bull. You’d trained him. He was super sweet with your niece and nephew, but if you were in danger, you’d be burying this guy’s body in the back yard because Oscar would kill him.

Sam laughed. “No. Hate the guy personally.” You gave him an odd look and he smiled. “I swear. It’s…kind of like a family thing. My brother has one, too.”

Your eyebrow shot up. “You in the mob or something?”

Again he laughed and pulled you toward the bed. “Come here. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”

“Good. Because if you try, Oscar will kill you and Octavia will eat your bones.”

“What will Olivia do?”

“She’s a chihuahua mix. She just pees.”

He laughed one more time and sat on the bed, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him and he pushed your shirt from your shoulders. “My god, you’re beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the blush. While you knew you were decent looking, you knew, too, you weren’t a skinny underwear model, either. You had curves. Lots of them. You liked to eat, but you were still very healthy. You dragged your ass to the damn gym every day and took the dogs for a run at the park a few times a week. “So are you,” you murmured.

He smiled and picked you up like you weighed nothing, turning to toss you onto the bed. His body covered yours before you got a breath out. “Fuck, Sam!” you panted as his teeth were suddenly everywhere and you knew you’d have bruises all over your body the next morning, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. “Yesssss,” you hissed as he latched onto your nipple through your bra.

He sat up and you unfastened his pants before you took him, hard and ready, in your hand. You pumped him a few times and watched him as his jaw clenched and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Fuck. I need you, Y/N,” he growled.

“Nightstand drawer,” you instructed and he reached that long arm over to open the drawer for the condom.

His hand rooted around in the drawer and he smirked as he pulled out your vibrator. It was a big, flesh colored, accurate enough looking dildo. His eyebrow shot up. “And just what do you do with this?”

You crossed your arms over your still-bra-clad breasts. “If you don’t know, then clearly you aren’t as experienced as I thought.”

He chucked as he sat back on his heels and handed you the plastic phallus. “Show me.”

“Oh! Well, uh…” That was new.

He stood and went to sit in the easy chair across the room. “Show me,” he commanded as he took his cock in his hand, fisting it lightly.

“You want to watch?”

“Consider this foreplay. I plan on being here a while,” he told you.

Your mouth went dry as your heart raced. You had the distinct impression you were going to be dog tired in the morning. And you didn’t mind it one damn bit.

You swallowed and slipped out of your bra and panties, glad you’d worn a matching set, and grabbed the toy. You knew you were wet enough, you sure as hell didn’t need any lubrication, but you couldn’t help yourself as you grabbed the peach flavored lube. You put a bit on the toy and rubbed it around yourself, teasing your clit before plunging it in. You moaned at the sudden sensation of being filled and you chanced a glance at him. He was watching you with hooded eyes.

You thrust it in and out, in and out, a few times, before you removed it. He opened his mouth to say something when you grabbed the toy and eagerly sucked it into your mouth.

He let out a whimper and you saw him pumping himself faster.

You’d always enjoyed giving head, so you had no problem sucking on the toy, but it did get you even more hot and bothered and you couldn’t seem to help yourself as your other hand began toying with your clit, rubbing two fingers in and out of your slit. You felt your orgasm approaching now. It never took you long to get yourself off. You were almost there when you felt three things simultaneously; the bed dipped, he pulled your hand away from your clit, and the toy out of your mouth.

“Dirty girl,” he growled. “What do you like?”

There was a challenge in your eyes as you stated, “Anything you’ll give me.”

His eyebrow shot up, but you could see it was paining him to feign indifference as his cock rubbed against your thigh. “Is that so? Anything.”

You nodded. There wasn’t much you hadn’t tried, and you enjoyed most of it.

“So…if I were to take this,” he stated as he picked up the forgotten dildo, “and shove it up your ass, you’d be okay with it?”

“As long as you prepared me. I’m not big on pain.”

He smirked. “Maybe next time. For now,” he murmured as he ripped open the condom packet, “I want to fuck you as you suck on my tongue. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you panted in eagerness. “Please,” you added, almost in pain. You needed him in you. Now.

You watched, dry mouthed once more, as he slipped the condom down his length and you whimpered at the sight. He was beyond beautiful, all long and lean from head to toe. He was easily the best looking guy you’d ever had sex with and you thanked whatever deity that would listen that you had him for tonight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his long body covered yours. His huge hands fisted your breasts and you felt his head teasing your clit. “Please,” you whined. “I need…”

“This?!” He thrust, sheathing himself in you and you came immediately, crying out as the sensations battered you.

“Holy fuck,” you muttered as he began moving and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He kissed you, long and languid as he gently moved within you, building you back up before his tongue began thrusting in time with his cock and you could do nothing but hold on and accept him as he took you up and over once more and you eagerly sucked as hard as you could.

He pulled away just slightly and he had almost an evil glint in his eye as he turned you to your stomach and commanded you up on all fours. He licked the shell of your ear and whispered, “Hold on,” as he moved your hands to the wrought iron headboard.

You braced yourself as he violently plunged back into you and you felt the quickening begin again.

His hands pawed your breasts roughly and he squeezed your nipples until you gasped out a breath at the pleasure/pain sensation. Your head dropped back and you felt his hand now massaging your scalp, pulling your hair just slightly as his other hand dove for your clit, those huge fingers teasing you until you felt like you were going to explode.

There was no sounds in the room save for both of your breathing and the wet slap of skin as he pistoned in and out of you. You felt it building, the release was coming and you began moaning as it started.

“Scream,” he commanded in your ear. “I wanna hear you scream my name.”

That was all it took. “Sam!” you screamed long and loud as the sensations battered you.

You felt him relax behind you and begin placing feather light kisses to your neck as his hands reached to unclench yours from the headboard, his fingers now massaging yours. You didn’t realize you’d been gripping the headboard so hard, your fingers had lost all sensation. You were boneless as he moved you and got you comfortable on the bed and you gave him a sleepy smile as he went to find the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

You watched as he got dressed and opened the door, letting the dogs in. You didn’t realize how late it was. Or how early, rather. The sun would be coming up soon.

The dogs knew what to do. They all walked in and sat patiently on the rug, awaiting your instructions to get on the bed or sleep on the floor.

He came back to the bed and handed you a card. FBI. You shouldn’t have been surprised. “Agent M. McCready? ”

“Sam is my middle name. It’s the one I go by.”

You smiled at that. “M. McCready, Mike? Like Pearl Jam?”

“Kind of.”

“They’re my favorite.”

“Mine too.” He looked down at his shoes before his hazel eyes pierced your y/e/c ones. “So, uh, listen, I had a great time tonight. You think next time I’m around…?”

You smiled as you leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips. “You’d better bring your sexy ass back to see me. I’ll give your brother a burger on the house. And, hell, if you want a salad next time, I’ll make you one.”

He chuckled and winked a dimple at you. “Nah, I think I’ll stick with the cheeseburger. You do have a way with meat.”

Your mouth fell open and you swatted his ass. “See you around, Agent.”

He gave you a wink and turned to leave before he turned back. “Damn. We didn’t get to eat the peach cobbler.”

“Maybe next time.”

He smirked. “You know, I could eat a peach for hours.”

You shivered at the implication. “Of that, I have no doubts.”

He stalked back to you once more, a cocky smirk on his face. “If I were to let you suck my tongue, would you be grateful?”

How in the hell did he know the movie, Face/Off was one of your guilty pleasures? You bit your lip as you tried not to smile. “Careful, Castor. I’m not just another of your conquests.”

He grabbed you and kissed you one last time. “Yes you are. I’ll see you around, peach,” he murmured as he walked out, giving the dogs a quick rub on the head before he left.

You blew out a breath, already hoping he came back this way soon.


It was a good few months later, you were busy working on a new creation when one of the new girls came into the kitchen. “Boss? Some guy is out there looking for you. Says his name is Castor Troy. Said he’s come to collect some peaches?”

You dropped the spatula to the floor as you ran out of the kitchen. There he stood in all his six foot five inch glory. You stopped dead for a half a beat before you ran to him and jumped on him in front of everyone, making him laugh hysterically.

In celebration of the exhibition One-Way Ticket: Jacob Lawrence’s Migration Series and Other Visions of the Great Movement North, Marcus Samuelsson, chef and owner of Red Rooster in Harlem; Abram Bissell, executive chef of The Modern​ and ArtFood; and Dan Jackson, executive chef of Cafe 2 and Terrace 5 at MoMA​, collaborated to create special menu items, like this Southern-style shrimp and grits dish. Ask your server for details next time you’re dining at the Museum.

[Image courtesy Union Square Hospitality Group]