by Mel Walker
“Fine, better than anyone will find in Lake Hope. Besides, it’s just for a group of yogis. Lots of salad, bean sprouts, and tofu and you’ll be fine.”
I laugh at his misinterpretation of healthy eating. So many people have this misrepresentation. “I do wish Dana all the luck in the world, Aaron, you know I do. But I can’t. I’m not in the kitchen for a reason. Trust me, if I went back there it may not turn out the way you expect, and I would never forgive myself if I somehow ruined the retreat.”
His brow furrows at my cryptic message. I’m sure I’ve only raised his curiosity. It only took him moments to discover my real name and profession. I can’t give him any reason to dig any further. I raced to Destiny Falls hoping my ugly past had been buried and didn’t follow me. I’ve spent a lot of time, energy, and money burying my past, yet here I am in front of one of the few people who could unearth it and bring with it a shitstorm. I say a silent prayer that he gives up.
“Okay,” he states.
What? Were my prayers just answered? “Okay? Just like that?” I repeat, not believing what I’m hearing.
His green eyes sparkle with a hint of humor. “Yeah, it’s easy for you to say no to me. Let me see if you can say no to Dana.” I can see how he became known as one of the best location scouts in Hollywood. He plays on a different level. I misread him and called his bluff only to watch him flip over a pair of aces.
He just played me like a fiddle and is now sending in my direction the one person who he knows I will not be able to say no to.
Well freaking played, Aaron.
Chapter Five
Dana
My normal zen state that I achieve from teaching is nearly destroyed with one glance at my phone after class. A text from Mia: Meet me in Candice’s office after class. Hopefully we’ll have good news by the time you arrive.
While I taught, the girls worked their network. The fact that they’re still in Candice’s office tells me that they’ve been unsuccessful and are probably still plugging away.
Candice owns the fastest-growing financial planning company in Destiny Falls. She is brilliant, beautiful, and a substitute yoga instructor in my studio. Her office is located on the second floor of this office complex. Our paths crossed when she opened her business and popped down for classes so often that we had to become fast friends.
Her fiancé, Ryan, also happens to be Aaron’s brother. Yep, Destiny Falls is small. I climb the steps as the last of my zen mood drifts away. I open the door to the office and am immediately attacked by Candice’s assistant, Sydney.
Well, not exactly attacked, but Sydney is a nineteen-year-old ball of energy who only operates on turbo. Before I’ve completely entered the room, her arms are around me and she’s speaking a mile a minute.
“Dana, yes. Do you want to see what we’ve been working on? Of course you do. Hold on, let me get the music.” If it was anyone other than Sydney with her bugged eyes and smile from ear to ear, I would suspect pharmaceutical intervention had played a part. However, to know Sydney is to love her.
“Music? What does music have to do with a chef?” I’m perplexed, which is a normal state when dealing with Sydney.
She bounces in her Chuck Taylors, stillness her enemy. “Chef? No, I’m talking about our performance next week. You remember? The retreat—you had mentioned that by midweek the participants would be bored and need a break. An entertainment break.” She runs her hands up her petite frame as she wiggles her hips and plants on her brilliant smile.
I scratch my head and ignore her picture-ready pose and struggle to recall the conversation with Candice in her office a few weeks back. The ever-eavesdropping Sydney must’ve overheard us and raced to her own conclusion.
Stillness is not her only enemy. Her other archenemy, silence, rears its head. It never stands a chance. “I know you don’t have any money, so I convinced a few of my friends from the community college theater program to volunteer. It conflicts with their weekly improv show in town, but I did convince a few of them.” She nudges me with her sharp elbow and cups one hand around her mouth. “We lucked out—I grabbed the really talented ones, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
I look over her shoulder toward the door to the office, wondering who’s coming to rescue me.
“I’m thinking we’d start with a reprise of ‘Wrecking Ball’ by Miley Cyrus—you know the video, but without the nudity, unless it’s that sort of retreat.” Miley’s voice arrives in the room via the speakers which Sydney always puts to good use. She joins in at the chorus, as her thin hips begin swaying to the beat.
If I don’t act, I’ll be caught here for the next four minutes and thirty-two seconds. I yell over her shoulder, “What’s that, Candice? I’ll be right there.” Sydney glances toward the office and the closed door and shrugs as she gets lost in the song.
“Okay, we’ll chat when you get out. I’ll send you a link to the Spotify playlist. I can’t wait. Will we be able to spend the night at the lodge after? It’s a long drive back to Destiny Falls, and it will be late….”
I tap her shoulder, hoping to put an end this interrogation. “Good talk, Sydney. Let’s pick it up later.”
I step around her, exhausted. I spend half my time awake trying to slow down the world around me while she seems intent on doing the complete opposite. I escape into Candice’s office and press my back against the closed door. “Whew,” I exhale and bend at my waist, my hands resting on my knees.
“Sydney strikes again,” Candice’s words greet me. She is leaning over her desk, pencil behind her ear, and her hands hovering over her laptop. She is in full-on work mode. I gulp with the realization. If she is still in working, then it means I’m still without a chef.
“You really need to build a back entrance with maybe a strobe light outside the stairwell for when Sydney is here.” I tap Mia on her knee. She is bent forward on the couch, heels up, and tapping away on her phone. She’s barely noticed my entry as her fingers swipe across the screen as if she just received an alert to a handbag sample sale.
I slip into one of the two chairs in front of Candice’s desk. “I got the text. Based on your faces, I’m guessing no takers yet.” This problem is on me, not them. I appreciate their effort, but it’s mine to solve.
“It’s still early. We’ve only hit the usual suspects. No surprise. We have a few texts, emails, and voicemails out, awaiting people to get back to us.”
I pull out my phone and begin to scroll. “Have you checked with Ottomelli’s?”
Candice runs a finger along her computer screen. “Yeah, one of the first calls.”
“And what about Hugo’s, Carmichael’s?” Two more head shakes. I search through the obvious choices that I know Candice is familiar with, already knowing she’s covered the bases. “What about… what is the name of the BBQ guy Ryan took you to? The one by the dusty road and the shack that looks as if it’s about to collapse. He’d won a BBQ championship or something like that.”
The mention of BBQ causes a lovestruck look from Candice, the happy memory a callback to her and Ryan’s origin story. “Yeah, State BBQ Championship and a feature on Guy Fieri’s triple D show, Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. You mean Roscoe from Roscoe’s Rib Shack. He’s out of town. He shuts down two weeks a year and visits family in St. Louis. I already checked.”
I pause as I ignore Mia standing behind me, her fingers clicking away even quicker than before. I think about all the restaurants in the immediate area that Candice, Mia, and I have visited. I continue to scroll through my contacts and think of the restaurants that wouldn’t be on their radar—the off-the-beaten-track Southern soul food restaurants that I occasionally visit when I miss home and want a cheat day. Not the ideal cuisine for yogis, and they definitely won’t appreciate four days of eating like that, but I’m sure I can talk them into changing up their menu a little.
“Hold on,” Mia interrupts my thought. “Aaron says he may be onto something.”
I stand with a smile on my face. �
��Ladies, no offense, but my money was on Aaron the entire time.”
“Well, you may want to hold off just yet. Apparently, it’s not an Aaron contact, but one from Jackson,” Mia continues.
My hands involuntary clutch my chest. “Jackson?”
“Yes, your Jackson,” Mia teases.
“He’s not…” I protest before I feel Candice’s hand on the back of my shoulder.
“Shh, if he’s going to rescue you, he may very well become your Jackson. Quiet. I want to hear this; I’m loving where this is going already.”
I bite my tongue as I’m surrounded by women in love. It was only a few months ago that all three of us were single, spending Friday nights on a couch with wine and a Netflix playlist as long as my arm.
Now my Fridays are filled with being the third wheel on a date night or making up excuses to hide away at home alone. My existence is so pathetic that my entire queue can be viewed on half a phone screen. My last notice from Netflix informed me I’m all caught up and recommended that I sign up to Disney Plus.
Mia approaches, and she is close enough that the three of us form a small circle. Her brow rises as she rereads the text message again. “Dana, it says Jackson may have a contact that is definitely qualified and most probably available but needs you to meet with him first.” Mia scratches her head. “This is confusing. I’m just going to call Aaron.”
Just as she begins to press the phone, it buzzes again, another text arriving. Her eyelashes flicker, and she scans the message. The corner of her lips rises into a broad smile. She twists the phone in Candice’s direction, keeping her hand on one side, blocking me from reading it.
Candice leans forward as her hands rise to cover her mouth.
I stomp my foot like a two-year-old playing hide-and-seek and coming up empty.
Mia holds up the phone for me to read. “Whoever this chef is, they trust Jackson. Aaron says if you can convince Jackson, then it’s a done deal. Aaron found him on one of his trips some time ago, and he apparently just happens to be in Destiny Falls now and is close to Jackson.” Mia slips the phone into her rear pocket. “This is great news, right, Dana? All you have to do is bat those beautiful brown eyes at him and he’ll freaking run through a freaking wall.”
“Mia?” Candice says. “Tell Aaron great find, as always. I can’t wait to see who this mystery chef turns out to be. If Aaron crossed paths with him and still remembers him a year later, he must really be good. I hope you can afford him, Dana.”
I shake my head as it swirls with the new information. The ask seems strange on so many levels, but beggars can’t be choosy. “I’ll figure that out later. At this point in time, I’ll pay anything just not to have this retreat turn into the Fyre Festival.”
Mia spits out laughter. “Yes, if this falls through, I can slap some cheese with a slice of tomato on some bread and call it gourmet lunch.”
“Maybe I can set Sydney and her friends up with sleeping bags and tents and call it private VIP accommodations,” I joke.
“In the rain,” Candice chimes in. The three of us fall into laughter, relief in our laugh as if we’ve already solved this latest challenge.
I know it’s not going to be that simple. The cryptic way Aaron framed the conditions caused the back of hairs on my neck to rise. Nothing comes without a price.
Chapter Six
Jackson
The minute I spot her walk into the restaurant, I kick myself. Why did I pick a nice restaurant on a Friday night to have Dana meet me? Given the urgency on her end to secure a chef, she insisted we meet immediately. It was the end of a long workday, and the last place I wanted to be was in the cafe. Webster Grille’s name just rolled off my lips as it is my go-to takeout place, and it’s on the way to my cousin’s house.
When Dana replied that she needed an hour to change, I realized too late my mistake. So, as this vision of beauty scans the restaurant and the hostess approaches her, I take the moment to appreciate the sight. I’m used to seeing her just prior or after a yoga class, usually with a glistening sheen of sweat, tight yoga pants, and tank tops. She definitely has shown much more skin, yet her outfit tonight has me squirming in my seat already.
Her cream-colored skirt falls just below the knees, but the slit up the center teases with her lean, long dark legs peeking out with each step. Her gold top also plays tricks with my eyes as the boat neck sways side to side rocking with the beat of my heart. I find myself mesmerized, unable to look away. Her short dreadlocked hair is bunched on the top of the head, exposing all the beauty of her face. I try to recall if I’ve ever seen her with makeup and come up empty. The light application highlights each of her beautiful features.
This discussion is over before it begins. I’m so screwed.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she says. I stand and give her a quick peck on the cheek. It’s a simple thing which friends do on a regular basis, but there is nothing regular between us, and I hope there never will be.
“I just got here,” I return, even though I arrived twenty minutes ago, too nervous to sit at my cousin’s place and count down to this moment. “You clean up nicely.”
“Right back at you,” she states as her eyes roam over me. I did have the sense to race home, shower, and change. I’m wearing black slacks and a blazer with a fitted gray shirt underneath. I went for comfort but know the touch of the blazer covers me fashion-wise.
I hold the back of the chair as she slips in. “Well, I hate to be rude and all, but I’m dying to know. Aaron wasn’t exactly clear in his message. Do you know of a chef that can do this for me?”
Right to business—why aren’t I surprised? That was me a year ago, so focused on the endgame that pleasantries went out the window. The pressure to deliver a constant. “Something like that.” I wave toward our waitress. “Let’s grab a drink first.”
She reads my body language as if trying to decipher me. “Okay, sure,” she says and leans back. I raise my hand toward Dana as the waitress arrives. “I’ll have a glass of the merlot.”
“I’ll have the same,” I say.
“Great choice. Would you like to hear the specials?” the waitress asks, and Dana’s index finger rises.
“Can you give us a moment?” she requests.
“Of course. I’ll get the drink orders in and will be back shortly.”
She has barely taken two steps away from the table before Dana leans forward. “What’s going on, Jackson? I thought we were having drinks and chatting. I didn’t realize this was a full-on d—”
“Date?” I finish for her.
Her palm presses down on the top of the table. “Actually, I was going to say dinner. But it’s interesting that’s where your mind went. When you said we needed to talk, I assumed it was just that—to talk.”
I take a deep inhale as my pride takes a hit. Maybe I’ve been reading her wrong all this time. “We are going to talk. I just figured we could eat at the same time; I’ve just finished a twelve-hour shift and could use some real sustenance.”
“Sustenance?” She repeats my word to me as if she doesn’t believe me. Hell, I said it and I don’t believe it.
“So, would it be so horrible if this was a date? Sunshine, we’ve been dancing around each other for months. Tell me I’m reading the situation wrong and I’ll let it sit.” I hold my breath. After all this time, I’ve put it out there.
Not yours, not here, not now. My mantra jumps in, preparing to defend me and my mouth goes dry.
She pulls on the end of her loc, her brown eyes warming, the look difficult to decipher. “That’s not it at all, Jackson.” Her palm rests on top of my hand on the tabletop. Without thinking, I run the pad of my thumb across the back of her hand. “It’s just… it’s not what I’m looking for right now. I’m focusing on my business.”
The words shouldn’t surprise me; it’s what I’d already suspected, the two of us having tangoed around this very topic on many occasions. Yet, hearing the words put out so bluntly, so clear
ly, feels like needles through my skin. I try to hide my disappointment in the bottom of the menu which is now raised in front of my face. “I recommend the grilled chicken with mango salsa salad.” I’m alone in Destiny Falls with only my deflection skills and my mantra protecting me.
She stares at me for a moment, those beautiful ebony eyes staring through me to my soul. I freeze and await her to determine the next step in our dance. Will she engage or pivot to the real reason she is here? “Fine,” she says just as the waitress returns with the drinks.
The waitress places the drinks and scans our faces quickly. She must read the tension at the table as her voice fills with indecision. “Are you ready to hear the specials?”
“I think we’re ready to order,” Dana cuts her off. “We’ll have two of the grilled chicken salads with the mango salsa.”
Dana’s voice is sharp as she orders. Our eyes lock as she takes a sip from her wineglass. The waitress disappears with our orders, escaping like a just-released bank hostage. “So, are you going to tell me about this chef, or do I need to order dessert to hear about it?”
I lift my wineglass and take a slow sip. There is so much we don’t know about each other, but one thing I know with full certainty is that I’ve pissed her off.
Chapter Seven
Dana
My blood is racing, and not in a good way. Normally I would enjoy this back-and-forth banter—hell, Jackson and I have nearly perfected a seesaw rhythm between us over the last few months. Normally it’s the highlight of my day, but today it’s irritating the hell out of me.
How could he even ask about a date? Doesn’t he feel it—doesn’t he know with him sitting there in that sexy as hell tight shirt, I want to drag him into the women’s bathroom and discover what is beneath that shirt? He shouldn’t toy with a woman who can’t remember the last time she’s gotten any.