Cooking Up A Storm - A Norman Reedus Fanfic Romance

Chapter 5 - Oh, Flambé Me!

NORMAN

Fuck me!

If this is a fancy-dress party? Then dump a tub of strawberry jam on my head as well and call me a scone!

She sure as fuck isn't whispering suggestions about bread rolls to me now, that's for sure  😮

Can hear her yelling as one of her workmates prises the bowl from her fingers.

Another guy who's desperately trying to hold her in his arms? Eventually gives up. Spins her wriggling body around and throws her over his shoulder.

There's a deathly silence in our little corner of the ballroom. Once the kitchen door closes behind them. Cutting off all her threats.

That is....until I lay flat on my back and burst into howls of laughter.

"You sure do  believe in living dangerously don't you, hun? Now don't say I didn't offer. Are you gonna take me up on it now, Mr Reedus?"

I peer up through a cream curtain to see Winnie's face beaming down at me.

"I'm willing. If you're able, Chef."

She reached down and gripped my hand firmly. After a bit of slipping and sliding, I eventually managed to stand on my own two left feet. Winnie called out to the teenage chef who's standing near the table. Gaping at me with her mouth open and eyes just as wide.

"Liesel? You take over here for a little while. I'm just gonna take Mr Reedus here out back and get him cleaned up a bit. I'll send out one of the porters to wipe that floor up."

"Norm....are you alright?"

Andy, Greg and Mel have now reached my side. Looking at me with concern instead of amusement for once. I know that won't last for long.

It didn't  🙄

Andy broke first.

"Norm, you look like the punchline to that old joke. You know....the one about the penguin blowing a seal?"

*

Winnie never let go of my arm. Not until she had my ass planted firmly on a huge, shiny stainless-steel bench. I stare around me in amazement.

This place is fucking ginormous! Makes our little restaurant kitchen back in Senoia look like it belongs in a Winnebago.

And it's spotlessly clean. Even where chefs are still working, their workspaces remain pristine and orderly.

Some are stealing amused glances at me. Recognised a few faces from the alley when I snuck out for my smokes.

But I can't see or hear Smokin' Joe Frazier  😟

"I really appreciate this, Winnie. Sorry to be such a pain and apologies for all the upset out there. Don't go to any great trouble over all this stuff. I've been covered in worse."

She's gently wiping down my hair and face with a series of damp cloths. As soon as the bulk of it is off, I peel away my jacket and bow tie.

Ahhhh....much better.

"It's no trouble at all, sugar. Can't wait to get home and tell my granddaughters that I had Mr Norman Reedus laid out on my bench. Smothered in cream to boot"  She chuckled.

"And besides, I saw it all go down. Wasn't your fault. But you managed to accomplish what we've been tryin for a few years now."

Her head flicked towards a whiteboard, covered with dozens of names and numbers. It's almost like a huge scorecard? And the heading is written in big letters....