"I'm going to fire that line cook if I don't kill him for setting the kitchen on fire.

I just opened up my new restaurant three weeks ago. It's been a long time dream of mine since I always wanted to cook and run my own business. After four years of schooling, earning degrees in culinary arts and business, jumping hoops to get my parents to loan me money, and finding a building in a decent location, it finally happened. I had one of the newest restaurants downtown and it was booming. Customers were complimenting on the great service and critics were raving about the modern twists on traditional food that the diverse menu offered. It was like all of my hopes and aspirations of the last ten years were becoming a reality.

That reality came crashing down when this absent-minded line cook left the stove unattended and with food on it to flirt with one of the waiters on break. Like I said, if I don't kill him after this, he is so fired. 

I'm coughing as I'm trying to get close enough to the stove to take whatever is burning off the stove eyes. It goes up in flames suddenly and I'm being thrown backwards. There's yelling and cursing going on as I hear employees trying to find the extra fire extinguisher and trying to call the fire department. I feel a splitting pain in my head as I'm trying to sit myself up against the one of the cabinets. There's sirens in the background and voices shouting about evacuating the restaurant and trying to control the fire. The heat radiating from the stove is unbearable and I'm trying my best to move away from it as the flames seem to get higher and angrier. I'm choking on smoke at this point and it's only a matter of time before I feel myself beginning to lose consciousness. The last thing I remember is a fireman bending down to scoop me up and take out the burning building...

 

I wake up on scratchy sheets and the pungent smell of disinfectant. My parents are sitting in chairs near the window, quietly discussing something. 

"Hey guys," I rasp, sitting up against the flat pillows as they rush to my bedside. "How bad was it?" 

"You're lucky that firefighter saved your life," my dad answers with a grateful smile as my mom squeezes my hand. "You inhaled a lot of smoke and suffered a couple burns and a minor concussion after the stove top exploded. It could've been a lot worse, honey." I sigh as I leave back against the pillows. 

"What's the damage?" I inquire, waiting to get the bad news out of the way first. They both look at each other before looking at me and I can already tell that this isn't going to be good. 

"Everything on the stove side suffered" my mom announces. "The wall has to be replated for sure. The electrical and water should be inspected for damage, so should the stove and any other supplies over there." I feel my stomach dropping as the realization of it all hits me. We're barely making money as it is being a new business, how are we going to pay for all these expenses? And does this mean we'll have to shut down the restaurant until everything is fixed and replaced? How long will that take? "Honey, calm down. Your blood pressure is rising." 

"That happens when you're stessed," I grate as I feel my breathing quicken slightly as I think of all the costs that we're going to incur from this incidnet. "When can I be discharged?" 

"Sweetheart, you need to rest," my dad states and I shake my head because that's the last thing I need to be doing right now. My restaurant literally just went up in flames and so did ten years worth of work to get the place.I have to get back to the restaurant and start calculating damages, take inventory of what we lost in the fire and need to replace, fire that lousy line cook-

There's a knock on the door that snaps me out of my thoughts and I look up to see a fireman, most likley the one that saved me. He's a tall, good-looking man with shiny, dark hair, big brown eyes, full lips and a muscular physique. He has on a clean, long sleeved shirt, but still has on his uniform pants and boots. 

"You must be the fireman that saved her," my mom points out, rushing over to the fireman and surprising him with a tight hug. He chuckles shyly before hugging her back and shaking my dad's hand. There are introductions tossed around as thinking about everything I have to take care of within the next few weeks. My name being called jerks me out of my thoughts once again as the fireman is introducing himself as Choi Minho. 

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks politely, staying a fair distance away from the bed. 

"I've been better," I answer with a sigh. "I'm more worried about my restaurant."

"That's understandable," Minho acknowledges with a nod. "I've ate there with my friends once. It was really good." 

"Really?! What dishes did you order? Was the service okay or-"

"Oh, honey don't make the man give you a review of your restaurant when he just saved your life," my mom scolds and I roll my eyes. "Minho, we'd love to have you over for dinner as a thank you." My eyes widen in surprise and so do his. It's another two minutes of my mom persisting and persisting before he finally agrees to come over for dinner Friday night. 

I'm discharged later that evening and am greeted warmly by my flatmate, best friend and bartender, Leia. She'd been sitting at the kitchen counter, ash blonde hair tie up in a bun as she pours over books and pamplets with glasses full of wine scattered around her on the counter. Even though she's the bartender at my restaurant,she's been studying to get a sommelier certification. Leia has always love wines, the color, smell, history, taste and pairing them with foods. 

"Are you feeling better?" she asks, taking her seat at the counter as I sift through the refirgerator to find something to eat.

"Physically, yes," I answer, warming up some leftovers in the microwave. "We're going to have to inspect all the damage at the restaurant tomorrow and I'm firing that line cook-"

"Can you just relax for once?" Leia laughs and she glares at me when I take one of her glasses of wine and take a drink from it. "I need that for studying."

"I think that's a Merlot. Anyways, I don't have time to relax. I have a restaurant to run." Leia rolls her eyes as she turns back to her books. "My parents invited the fireman that saved me to dinner on Friday." She whips her head around so fast, I'm almost scared she got whiplash. 

"What?! Why?"

"As a thank you," I explain, grabbing my food and sitting across from her at the counter. 

"Is he cute?" I nod. "Is he single?" I shrug and she gets this mischevious glint in her eye that always managed to make my nervous. 

"I can see those wheels turning in your head, Leia. I don't have time for a relationship."

"That's the oldest line in the book," she scoffs as she takes a sip from the glass I just had. "And that's a pinot noir, genius." I pout at that she continues to swirl the dark liquid around in the curvy glass. "There's never a right time for a relationship, you just have to be willing to put in the time for it." I open my mouth to answer but she pins me with a stern look. "Just have dinner with the guy. It won't kill you or your restaurant."