Disclaimer: I don't Twilight, or anything affliated with. I just like to make them cook and fall in love in different scenarios.

A/N: To those who reviewed the last chapter, thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying this story and storyline. I'm also very thankful it's original. Just to give a head's up, in this chapter I wanted to give a little depth into Edward and Bella's relationship, as co-workers, chefs, and friends. This is usually what happens when you work close with someone in a restaurant. (Romance doesn't always happen, but for this, it will because I make it so!) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It has a lot of cooking in it, slight--very slight--fluff, and a teeny bit of humor.

P.S. Do not try any food at home. I know it sounds good, but there's no recipe and I don't want it to taste like poo for you. Let me know if you want a recipe and I'll send it your way.

Chapter 2

After gathering my confusion from the past few minutes of events, I stand and head over the line to start the process of breaking down the kitchen.

I grab all the extra pans off the top of the stove and place them on the line behind me. Scooping up the dirty ones, I place them in the dishwasher area for Tyler to clean later on.

I grab a hot wet towel from the sink and wipe down the stove, making sure to clean every bit of spilled food from the burners. To finish up, I make sure all the ovens are off and gently place the clean pans back in their original spot.

Rolling up my sleeves, I turn around to tackle my prep/plate area. I take my knife and hold it in my hand. It feels so right; my hand forms to the handle and a controlling power comes over me. Carefully, I finish dicing the other onion quickly and place it in a bowl. I place my knife back in the cutting board and read the inscription: Chef Bella's Knife.

I smile to myself and remember Edward bought for it me when I had only been working here for three months. I've always wanted a knife that felt so right in my hand that I would borrow Edward's when he wasn't working with me in the kitchen. Soon after, I feel in love with the Shun and had to have one. Six months later, the knife has only cut me once and that was tonight.

Finally, I wash the knife and return it to my roll-up, along with my steel, placing it neatly on the shelves in the kitchen. I walk to my station and start wiping it down.

"I hear you cut yourself tonight," a silky voice says in my ear.

I smile at the thought of Edward being in the kitchen. We always work so well together, especially on the busy nights.

"Well, you did say not to burn myself. I figured what you didn't tell me to do was better." I turn around and stare in his eyes.

Those eyes...I've always wondered how I manage to properly work in this kitchen when we stare over at each other while tasting a new dish. Or how I actually pay attention at staff meetings.

He smiles gently at me and takes my hand. "Can I look at your wound, oh clumsy one?"

I giggle and nod my head.

He leads me over to the chair in the kitchen and sits me down. Kneeling next to me, he unwraps my finger and lets out a low whistle. "Nice job on this one. Who took care of it? I don't see anything amiss in here. Did you make it to the toilet in time?"

Again, blood rushes to my cheeks and I shake my head vigorously. "Alice, my female knight in shining armor, came to my rescue with a bowl of chopped herbs."

"Ah. Smart. I'll have to remember that one. What were you doing when this happened?"

I recount my story to him about Mike and how he scared me when he came up behind me.

Edward's eyes darken, but then soften as they look into mine. "Everyone here knows better than to come up behind the chef with a knife in their hand, especially when you have a knife." He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "Please, go on with your story."

When I'm finished telling it, he looks at me, scrutinizing my words. And then he laughs, a sweet melodic laugh. "They bet on you? And they didn't even tell me? Do you think they'll let me on it?"

His laughter picks up my mood more than ever tonight. I follow his laughter for a few moments and then sigh.

"Do you still want to make your special tonight?"

He leans his head down to examine my cut again, letting his bronze hair fall over his eyes. I think about creating the dish for him, with him.

I smile gently, recalling sweet and savory moments in the kitchen with him, speaking low about the ingredients or yelling about how we succeeded in creating a dish.

Nodding, I say, "Only if you bandage my finger up again. "

A low laugh erupts from his throat. He stands up, holds out his hand for me, and says, "I think I can take care of that for you, Bella." And he stares into my eyes, while wrapping my finger, with a grin on his face.

"Show me the way of your kitchen, Chef."

We walk over to my station and I bend down to go into the reach-in. When I come back up with all my ingredients, Edward has set-up my station again, with both our knives.

"Your recipe, your call."

I look at him, knowing he'll do exactly as I say, watch my every movement, mimic me.

"First, let's marinate the beef tenderloin in red wine, shallot, garlic, a little olive, salt and pepper. Throw it in the vac sealer so it can marinate quicker. We'll need some onions, garlic, shallots, red wine, beef bones, demi-glace, and some rosemary for the borderlaise sauce."

He nods his head and starts moving around the kitchen. "I got the beef, prep the sauce, Bella."

I stand and watch his movements for a few minutes while he puts ingredients in the vac sealer and adds the beef. I turn to my station and start gathering what I need for the sauce. When I have everything set out in little bowls, I take a pot from the pan rack and place it on the burner.

"Ready to start the sauce, Edward?"

He's by my side in a flash, his eyes intent on watching me create.

I add a little oil to the pan and sautŠ˜ the onions, shallot and garlic until they are translucent. Next, I add the red wine and wait for it to simmer.

"Edward, I'll need the marrow from those bones in a few minutes," I murmur, concentrating on the next move for the sauce.

He walks over to my cutting board and takes a spoon, gently prying the marrow out. When he has gathered enough, he brings it to me.

He has an excited look on his face as he watches me take the marrow from him.

The wine has now reduced, the little mixture in the pan is a syrup. I add the marrow, making sure to smash it into the rest of the ingredients. I turn to grab my bowl of demi-glace, which is missing. Confused, I look around my station, knowing I took it out just a little while ago.

"Missing something?"

And then I forget that Edward is always a step before me, almost reading my mind as to what I'll need next. I glare at him for good measure and grab the bowl roughly. Some spills on his chef coat. Oops.

After adding the demi-glace to the pan, I stir for a few moments. Finally, I add a large sprig of rosemary. "We just have to let it simmer for a while, then it'll be done. We want a nice consistency, but not too thick because we're going to finish it in the pan with the tenderloin."

Edward nods and looks at me, awaiting my next instructions.

I think of the gnocchi that I have made and decide not to waste time making fresh ones. I made them yesterday afternoon and I know they are still fresh.

"Let's serve it with roasted baby carrots this time. You get to clean them, Edward."

He smiles and walks over to my station. I stir the sauce again which has just begin a light simmer. I waft the steam into the nose, inhaling the wonderful scents.

Edward is once again at my side, with the prepped carrots. I glare at the carrots, then at him, then at the prep station. There's nothing on the cutting board to show he did anything.

"Did you take these out of the cooler?"

He gives me a sheepish smile, "Saving time. It's already one in the morning."

Laughing, I say, "Fine, put them in a hotel pan with olive oil, salt and pepper. Put a tad bit of water in the bottom so they won't burn. Put them in the oven at 425 degrees."

After Edward walks over the oven, I go to the reach-in and grab the cracked black pepper gnocchi. I start a pan on the burner with a bit of butter. While the butter melts, I count out 20 gnocchi and put them in a bowl. I add them to the pan and let them brown on one side before flipping them. When they're done, I shut the burner off, but leave the pan on the stove.

I walk over to the vac sealer and open it. The beef has a beautiful dark red color to it; the marinade penetrating the first layers of it. I take the two pieces out and place them on a dish.

"Edward, saute pan, on the burner, little oil, high heat."

He follows my instructions and then checks on the carrots in the oven. "How long should they cook? Twenty minutes right?"

"We don't want them over or under cooked. Twenty minutes should do it. Another ten and they'll be out. How do you like your meat, Edward?"

He stares at me, a long contemplative stare, before he answers. "Rare, the rarer the better."

"Okay, let's go at it."

I gently place the two pieces of beef tenderloin in the pan, listening to the meat as it hits the pan. The smell of the marinade with the beef cooking is amazing; it grabs your senses, hypnotizing you.

I flip the tenderloins over, a beautiful carmelization stares up at me. I spoon the little bit of oil on the side of the beef to cook, since we're aiming for rare. I look at Edward and notice he is watching right over my shoulder.

"Do you want the rest of the marinade for the pan?"

"No, I want cranberries."

He looks slightly confused, but then recovers. I can tell he is thinking for a few moments about the flavor combination, seeing if it will work. He nods in affirmation, finally seeing my point of view, and heads to the reach-in.

"Chop them finely, and then smash them with the knife, then bring them here. You have 30 seconds."

I start counting in my head, almost hitting 27 before Edward is back by my side with the macerated cranberries. I take the bowl from him and then add them to the pan.

Immediately the smell of the cranberries combined with the beef assaults my senses and I start to become excited. I know this will be even better than the one I was serving for dinner.

After letting both saute for a few minutes, I add a bit of borderlaise sauce to the pan. I roll the beef around in the sauce and take them out. Placing them on a plate, I turn the heat all the way up on the pan.

"We're just reducing the sauce to nape now. When it's finished, which will be in a few moments, we can plate the food. Check the carrots and I'll reheat the gnocchi."

Edward walks to the oven and opens the door. As he bends down, he grabs a perry knife and gently prods the carrots with it. Nodding, he takes the pan out of the oven and sets them on the stove top.

With everything finally ready for my special dish, I start pulling the pans off the stove and bring them to my station. Edward grabs a hot plate and places it in front of me. I take the gnocchi out of the pan first and gently arrange them on the plate in the middle. Next, I take the two pieces of tenderloin and place them side by side on top of the gnocchi. Grabbing a tablespoon, I start to pour a bit of the sauce around the plate and on top of the beef. I place the baby carrots around the edge of the plate to finish the dish.

I wipe the out edges with a clean towel. "Dinner's served, Edward."

I carry the plate to a secluded table in the dining room, placing it directly in the middle. Edward carries out two smaller plates and sets them on either side. Before I can even sit, he is behind me, pulling my chair out.

When I am seated, Edward walks away. He comes back with two wine glasses and a bottle of Shiraz wine. "Do you think this will compliment the dish, Bella?"

I shrug my shoulders; I was never into wine pairings. I do like wine however, and red is my favorite. I love the peppery, fruity flavors, and the way they move over my tongue.

After Edward is done opening the bottle, he pours me a bit in my glass. Typical of the French chef, he is letting me taste it before he pours an entire glass. The Shiraz is complex--dry, fruity, peppery, a hint of raspberry. It's perfect.

"It's perfect, Edward. Sit and eat. I don't want you complaining that it's cold."

Definitions:

Shiraz: Dry Red Wine, normally a product of Australia or New Zealand.

Vac Sealer: the most awesome invention ever! it's a barrel with a lid, you add stuff (normally for marinading) and then turn it on. it forces the marinade into the food through vac suckage and tumbles it. that's the best way i can describe it.

Any other questions about food, just ask. :-D

Love, cooky