The housemaid offered an apron with a look of concern, but Yasmine glanced at it dismissively and turned away. Her message couldn’t be clearer.

The maid glanced at Boyd, who dismissed her with a nod.

Yasmine was never one for aprons. Wasting a perfectly good dress on her was preferable to her wearing the cumbersome thing that, in her opinion, marred her appearance.

The only reason she was slumming it in the kitchen was for her grandkids.

Yasmine stood surveying the kitchen, a barely perceptible frown creased her forehead. Boyd knew all too well she was clueless about where to start. He moved to the fridge, pulling out vegetables and beef, placing them before her.

“I’m craving a beef stew, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said, effortlessly saving Yasmine from more embarrassment.d2

She raised an eyebrow, inspecting the produce before nodding in agreement. “Why don’t you step out for a bit?”

As she turned on the faucet to wash the vegetables, Boyd stepped in and took over. “I’ll wash these up for you. All chefs have their sous-chefs, after all.”

Yasmine leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching as Boyd meticulously cleaned everything. Then, moving to the cutting board, he began to chop with practiced ease. “This is also part of a sous-chef’s duties,” he explained.

Yasmine let out a derisive snort. “I also know that head chefs can sit in their fancy high chairs, barking orders without lifting a finger. Maybe I should pull up a chair and direct you?” Clearly, she was irritated.

This is exclusive content from Noveldrama.com (Swnovel). Please read it on Noveldrama.com to support the author and the translation team!. Boyd stepped aside, “I still want to taste the chef’s creations.”

Yasmine shot him a dark look and approached the stove. She reached out to turn it on, and a flame shot up, making her jump back. Boyd quickly pulled her away, placed a pan on the burner, and turned the flame down.

Her pride was wounded. “Boyd, it seems you’re not that eager to try my cooking after all.”

Without a word, Boyd grabbed an oven mitt and slipped it onto her hand. “Be careful. I’ll leave you to it.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly before hesitantly exiting the kitchen.

Yasmine looked at the bulky mitt and tightened her lips in disapproval, tossing it aside.

She ran through the cooking steps in her mind, considering the potential grease splatter, and chuckled. Turning, she filled a clean pot with water and poured it into the pan, followed by a bit of oil, then added the veggies and beef. She threw in salt and other seasonings, then covered the pan.

Boyd, eavesdropping from outside, never heard the expected sizzle of sautéing. Out of curiosity, yet mindful of Yasmine’s pride, he sent the maid under the pretense of fetching something to check on her. The maid emerged, barely concealing a smile. “Don’t worry, sir. The lady is fine.”

what is she doing

“She’s making stew.”

image she had witnessed, was proud of her clever answer. Indeed,

Yasmine emerged, holding a bowl large enough to rival

“It might be a bit mushy. I was worried it wouldn’t cook through, but it’s

would certainly be mushy, and the once

be my little guinea pig? It’s all yours. Take your

but ended up with a clump. Glancing at Yasmine, who watched him with a feigned gentleness, Boyd took a deep breath and shoved the clump into his mouth. His face contorted instantly. He nearly choked

for the maid, “I’ll have pasta

“Of course, ma’am.”

to Boyd,

then nodded,

sitting opposite him. “If it’s so good, eat up. It’s

“Yasmine, this stew is certainly special, but maybe a bit too eclectic.

moment and nodded, “You have a point.

Boyd smiled warmly.

sit there, eat. It’ll turn to a blob

tightened his grip on the fork, feeling his stomach

Yasmine. Boyd glanced at her inviting dish, then back to his own,

prodding her pasta, “I thought you said it was delicious. You’ve hardly eaten. It wasn’t quite the cute guinea pig experience,

Yasmine, I’m not a fan of spicy, and I

eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on her lips as she eyed Boyd. “Really now? I was so focused on making it

towards Yasmine. “I think it’s decent. Why don’t you give it a

stuff, and oh, I absolutely detest the taste of mustard, not to mention I

even know where to

it was tasty or not, she must have had an idea, otherwise she wouldn’t have had the maid

help but think that this dish was her way of getting creative

down his fork. He reached for the glass of water the maid had placed beside him and took a

other hand, leisurely finished her meal, wiped her mouth, and glanced at

I’ll make

thought with her intelligence, cooking would be a breeze if she put her mind to it. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. He also had forgotten to factor in personal

said,

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