Page 59 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“Please, sit. You’ve all earned the right to relax.” He grabbed a plate from the stack and helped himself to our creation. “This smells incredible. Who’s responsible for the sauce?”

“Group effort,” I said quietly, not sure how he was going to react to finding me at the center of this impromptu gathering.

He took a bite and closed his eyes, chewing thoughtfully. “Perfect balance. The pancetta isn’t overpowering the vegetables, and that touch of lemon brightness… really well done.”

The praise felt genuine, without any of the condescension I had been expecting. The students beamed under his attention. Like dogs getting a pat on the head after bringing back the ball.

No, that was just my jaded opinion. These guys all deserved the praise.

“So,” Rhett said, settling into his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Let’s debrief. What did everyone learn tonight?”

What followed was unlike any post-service wrap-up I had ever witnessed. Instead of criticism and corrections, Rhett led them through a thoughtful analysis of the evening. He highlighted specific moments where each person had excelled. He remembered details I hadn’t even noticed.

But he also offered constructive feedback, explaining the reasoning behind his corrections and suggesting techniques they could practice. It wasn’t harsh criticism. It was genuine mentorship, the kind of guidance that would make them better cooks. The kind of training people paid a lot of money to get.

“David, that sauce you redid for me? The third version was restaurant quality. You understood the balance I was looking for and executed it perfectly. Take that confidence with you.”

“Maya, your knife work is already excellent, but if you adjust your grip slightly.” He demonstrated with an imaginary knife. “You’ll have even more control and speed.”

They hung on his every word, asking questions and sharing their own observations from the evening. This was a master class in leadership. Apparently, he did know how to build people up while pushing them to improve.

I always felt like he was a snarling, rabid dog on a short leash. The second he got free, he would tear me apart. He seemed to enjoy tearing me down.

Why?

Why did I get the super highs and the really lows?

I watched him interact with them. It wasn’t the tyrant from this morning or the smooth operator from last night. This was someone who genuinely cared about developing the next generation of chefs. He saw potential in young cooks and was willing to invest his time and expertise in nurturing it.

Maybe I didn’t know Rhett Voss at all.

Maybe I had been so focused on my own hurt feelings and wounded pride that I missed something important about who he really was.

The students began to leave. Each of them thanked Rhett profusely for the opportunity and promised to stay in touch. I found myself swallowing a large helping of humble pie.

I still didn’t appreciate how he had spoken to me that morning. And I was still pissed about him leaving me high and dry—technically wet—last night. That wasn’t going to change. I didn’t appreciate the games. But maybe there was more to Rhett than I assumed.