Page 58 of Matched with the Small Town Chef
Almost-wife. The words still thrill me, even after months of engagement. Today—finally—I'll become Hunter Morgan's wife, and our journey from that first heated greenhouse encounter to partnership is complete in every sense.
The greenhouse.
Now transformed into the region’s most sought-after private dining space, the glass-walled structure connects to Timberline by a covered walkway. We've preserved its original character while adding heat for winter, cooling for summer, and a singletable that seats twenty beneath a canopy of climbing herbs and edible flowers.
Tonight, it will host our wedding reception after a sunset ceremony at Lookout Point.
"There's my favorite culinary power couple." Eleanor Morgan's voice precedes her into the kitchen, her diminutive frame carrying the authority of someone who's been feeding people for seven decades. Hunter's grandmother has become my fiercest champion and gentlest critic. "You two planning to cook through your own wedding?"
"Just finishing prep, Gran." Hunter drops a kiss on her weathered cheek. "Everything under control."
"So I see." She casts an expert eye over the organized chaos, nodding approval at themise en place. "Remember when you couldn't boil water without burning it, Hunter James Morgan?"
"I was four, Gran."
"And stubborn as a mule even then." She winks at me. "Some things never change."
"Thank goodness for that." I accept her hug, breathing in the scent of lavender that always clings to her. "His stubbornness is why we're still here."
"That and your persistence." She pats my cheek affectionately. "Now, I'm going to supervise the flower arrangements because Lord knows those city florists have no idea what mountain blooms look like."
We watch her march determinedly toward the dining room, staff parting before her like the Red Sea.
"Hurricane Eleanor strikes again." Hunter slides an arm around my waist. "Poor florists don't stand a chance."
"Neither did we." I lean into him briefly before returning to work.
We move in tandem, anticipating each other's needs, passing utensils before they're requested, tasting and adjusting eachother's creations with the synchronicity that comes from a year of cooking side by side.
The kitchen doors swing open to admit Lucas Reid, Hunter’s most determined ally. Under our culinary influence, and one spectacular wedding of the century, the Haven has become the region's premier destination, booked solid year-round.
"Chef." Lucas nods at Hunter, then me. "Final walkthrough complete. Everything's ready for tonight."
"Any issues?" Hunter hands me a spoonful of sauce to taste.
"Nothing our grandmother hasn't already identified and corrected." Lucas's dry tone hints at his humor. "I think she's arranged additional seating for the Johnson twins from the bakery."
"They're bringing the bread." I add a pinch of salt to the sauce and offer it back to Hunter for approval. "We can't have our bread suppliers sitting in the back."
"Of course not." Lucas glances at his watch. "Four hours until ceremony time. The kitchen seems ahead of schedule."
"We've got this." Hunter's confidence isn't bravado but earned certainty. "Go check on the bar setup. Mabel's bringing her homemade elderberry liqueur for the welcome cocktail."
Lucas departs, already tapping notes into his ever-present tablet.
“He’s almost human these days.” I seal containers of prepped ingredients, labeling each with precise instructions.
“Success will do that.” Hunter moves behind me, arms circling my waist as he rests his chin on my shoulder. “That, and the perfect woman.”
I pause, arching a brow.
“Amelia pulled off the wedding of the century in the middle of a blizzard, single-handedly putting The Haven on the national map. Premier wedding and food destination, thanks to her, and she managed to put a spring in his step…”
“And you?”
He presses a kiss just below my ear. “I found mine in a greenhouse, challenging my authority and blowing up my world one review at a time.”
A smile tugs at my lips.
