by Erika Kelly
As they headed to the couch, Delilah looked around the living room. “Where are the photos? She’ll want them when she’s older.”
“The babysitter brought over Ruby’s clothes and books and toys, but she didn’t want to touch anything else. She wasn’t sure how we’d want to handle pictures and her mom’s things, so she put them in the mom’s room and shut the door.” He glanced back to the stairs. “We’ll let her choose a few things before we go, and then I’ll have Lachlan come by and box everything else up. But I want her to have pictures of her mom in her room and in the hallway, alongside our family photos.”
“That’s…that’s really nice.” She wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze. She wanted to be close enough that she could tell him how she really felt. To touch him whenever she wanted.
She wanted him to be hers.
“Want Momma, Wheel.” The little girl sounded like she’d just had enough.
“Yeah, Rubes. I know you do.” Sitting down, he settled her on his lap. He patted the cushion beside him. “Sit with us, Wally.”
Perched on his knee, Ruby gazed up at her, clutching her chicken. Delilah sat close to Will, their arms and legs touching, and she rested a hand on his thigh. I’m here. Will looked at it for a moment, before letting out a rough exhalation that let her know how hard this moment was for him.
Then, he turned his attention to his sister. “Rubes?”
The little girl looked up at him with big blue eyes brimming with innocence and trust.
“I know you miss your momma, but I have to tell you something. Your momma died, and she’s not coming back.”
The starkness of his words hit like a mallet to her funny bone, the sensation reverberating in the stunned silence.
Ruby swiveled to Delilah, her brow scrunched in concern. “Momma wuv Wooby.”
Oh, shit. She’d thought she was reassuring the little girl…not betraying her trust. Crap, she never should have said anything. Speaking of her mom in the present tense had made Ruby believe her mom was alive. She looked helplessly to Will.
But he wasn’t paying attention to her. He tipped Ruby’s chin and brought her focus back to him. “Yes.” He said it firmly, like planting a flagpole in the earth. “Your momma loved you more than anything in this world, but she died, and she’s not here anymore. She can’t come back.” His Adam’s apple jumped as he seemed to swallow an ocean of sadness. “I’m very sad, and we’re all going to miss her. But, sweetheart, she’s not coming home.”
Delilah had faulted him for taking advice from books and a therapist, instead of acting on his instincts. And now she felt like a fool, because how did anyone know how to behave in such a horrible situation? That research had shown him how to handle a conversation no one should ever have to experience.
Up until this moment, no matter what had come Ruby’s way, she’d maintained her irrepressible spirit. Now, though, it all seemed to leak out of her, and she slumped on Will’s lap. Delilah had no idea what was going on in the little girl’s mind—how she could begin to process such enormous news—but she looked lost. Her fingers curled in the stuffed chicken. “Momma come home. Come home to Wooby.”
Through a wall of tears, Delilah looked down at her sandals.
“No, sweetheart.” Will’s voice was soft but firm. “She isn’t coming home. But—” He tipped her chin and forced his sister to look him in the eye. “But I’m going to take care of you. You’re my sister, and I’m always going to be here. You live with me and your other brothers now. You’re our family.”
Will’s usually implacable features wavered with a sorrow he clearly struggled to rein in. He shifted her onto the cushion, got on his knees on the carpet, and cupped her cheeks in his big hands. “You’re with me now, sweetheart, and I’m always going to be here for you.” He let out a short, sharp breath. “I love you, Ruby.”
Oh, my God. What had happened between yesterday and today that he was calling her sweetheart, promising to be there for her, and expressing his love?
Her heart swelled with affection as she watched Will hold his sister’s gaze unrelentingly, until loss turned to peace, and confusion to trust.
Then he smiled, and it was like sunlight breaking through clouds. So much beauty. He got up, knees cracking, and picked her up. “Let’s go to your momma’s room and you can choose pictures to take home with us. Okay?”
Delilah sat there for a moment, watching the siblings head up the stairs, and that was when she knew, clear as day, what she felt for Will was real. Her heart, mind, and body, were completely connected to that man.
She wanted him in a way that went beyond fun or a crush or anything she’d ever experienced before.
But he didn’t want her the same way, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
* * *
For the three-day judged art festival at Owl Hoot, the chefs had to create a brunch menu. Delilah had sourced all her ingredients from local slow food growers, the hydroponic farm, and ranchers. Not that it mattered to the judges—they only cared about taste, creativity, and presentation. But to her…this was the fun stuff.
“Girl, this was the best sangria I’ve ever had.” The waiter breezed past her with a tray of tall, clear glasses filled with the remnants of oranges, lemons, limes, apples, and pears.
“Oh, thanks.” She’d thought it had come out well. “I’m so glad you liked it.” Using a Spanish rosé, ruby port, and Cointreau, she’d added cinnamon, cloves, anise, and allspice berries to the fruit slices. Over each glass, she’d balanced a kebob of Cointreau-soaked apple chunks.
“It’s pretty much cleared out now, so you can head in there.” He tipped his head in the direction of the dining room.
The chefs could only circulate after the judges had submitted their score sheets, which meant Delilah hadn’t gotten to watch Harry’s face as he’d sampled her dishes. And she’d really wanted to see what he thought tonight. Even though he’d declared last week’s mason jar of tiramisu “so good you probably won’t believe it unless you taste it,” she’d still come in second place.
Which wasn’t bad, of course. With the point-based judging system, coming in third and then second meant she was still very much in the running.
But she wanted a win. She wanted that first place ribbon stuck to her table. It’d get her that much closer to the hundred grand, and it would mean her family could trust her to make a success out of her franchise. She’d learned her lesson, and she would absolutely stick to Nonna Abelli’s recipes, but she’d also have a specials board that would bring a whole new set of customers into her restaurant.
And she needed that validation more than she’d realized. Because now that some time had passed, a hard truth had wriggled to the surface. It wasn’t so much that her siblings had let her down by not giving her the franchise. It was that she’d let them down. They’d trusted her with the family brand, and she’d failed them.
That was completely on her.
Heading out to the dining room to check her scores, she reminded herself of something it had taken years to learn: she couldn’t please everybody. Food preferences were subjective. More specifically, you couldn’t set out to please a food critic. They weren’t trained chefs. They knew whether they liked a dish, but they didn’t have the knowledge to articulate the reason. Which was why, in trying to put a finger on it, they chose standard foodie words like complexity.
It just wasn’t their area of expertise.
Over time, she’d learned to rely on her own instincts. Which meant she’d had to put Harry’s complexity comment out of her mind and just do what she did best: cook.
Most of the guests had left to check out the art festival, leaving the chefs time to chat with the board members and unwind with samplings from the local wineries. She found herself scanning the saloon for Will. The last several days, he’d distanced himself. Polite and reserved, he’d offered to give her rides, but she could tell he wanted to divide his time between Ruby and his training.
&nbs
p; She was a fool for falling for a guy who, at twenty-eight, had never had a girlfriend. A guy whose mom had taught him that the vast well of love inside him was repulsive.
But since when did the heart listen to reason?
Wait staff whipped off tablecloths, and bartenders wiped down the bar. At the exit, she spotted Will chatting with Lachlan. A zing of pleasure rocketed through her so powerfully her fingertips tingled.
Standing a head above any other man in the room, shoulders broad, chest powerful, he was a warrior. A clan ruler. In the zombie apocalypse, he’d be the guy everyone turned to when devising a plan. He had that air of competence, like nothing fazed him.
I want him all to myself.
She’d thought she liked the good-time guys, the reckless ones who didn’t take anything seriously, but that was before she’d met Will Bowie. His confidence and inner strength made her feel rooted and calm.
And that’s why Ruby chose him. Because her instincts recognized him as the one person she could count on.
As she headed toward them, she caught a snippet of their conversation.
“Chris says her food’s good,” Lachlan said. “But says she treats the line cooks like crap.”
“Waitstaff, too,” Will said. “But it doesn’t matter since she’s not interested in the job.”
“Not with that Michelin star, no,” Lachlan said. “Oh, and tell him they’re disappointed in Chef Nazaar. Said they expected good things, but he’s not delivering.”
Will shook his head. “I saw him on the phone this afternoon. Looked like he got some bad news. I’ll give him another chance in the next event before I mention anything to Brodie.”
What a good guy. She turned to head back to the kitchen, when Lachlan said, “They’re impressed with your houseguest. Said she’s ‘knocking it out of the park.’ You try one of those fig things? Damn, that was good. Wish she’d make those for dinner some night.”
Delilah couldn’t keep from smiling. To give the effect of petals, she’d ribboned a thinly shaved strip of parma ham around a split, ripe fig. With the basil leaf tucked into each, they looked like pretty, pink flowers. She’d make some just for him.
“They don’t want her, though,” Lachlan said. “Want someone with a long-standing reputation. Said it’d give the restaurant the best chance for success.”
“She has one,” Will said. “She’s Da Nonna’s.”
“Don’t know what to tell you. Guess it’s not at the same level as Chef Mathilda,” his uncle said.
She knew she should go—she had to no business listening in—but she was dying to hear Will’s response.
“That’s stupidly shortsighted. She’s kind to everyone. Even under pressure, she doesn’t throw her anxiety onto other people. Her presentation’s always creative and clever. She’s confident. And she’s the only one who’s taken the time to meet local ranchers, farmers, and chefs. I like that. I like everything about her.”
Warmth spread through her body in a slow, voluptuous roll. I like everything about you, too, Will Bowie.
“Not that you’re biased or anything.” She could hear the teasing smile in Lachlan’s voice.
“I’m not biased at all. She’s got no intention of staying in town. But I’m telling you I think they’ve got their heads up their asses if they’re seeing her age and not everything else that makes her a total fucking rock star.” He clapped his uncle on the arm. “I’m going to go see if she needs a ride home.”
The moment he broke away from his uncle, he spotted her. It was almost comical the way he did a double-take, eyes wide like he’d just seen a movie star.
But once he recognized her, his features softened. She watched as a swift infusion of joy spread through him, making his chest rise. You.
Hard as she tried, she couldn’t tamp down her emotions. Me. That magnetic attraction pulled them toward each other, and he set forth like he was the arrow. The target, her heart.
“Ready to go home?” When he reached her, the energy between them shimmered and glowed. “Or did you need to do a little more eavesdropping?”
“I heard all I needed to hear.”
She led the way, pushing open the kitchen door. Pots clanged, water rushed, and clusters of wait staff worked together, laughing and chatting. Every step toward the back door ramped her excitement. Because she’d get to be alone with him. Even just for the short drive home, she’d have him to herself.
And, even if it took her hours to come down off the rush of wanting him and not being able to have him, she wanted those precious moments with him. They fed her, enlivened her.
They made her yearn.
She stepped out into the fragrant night air and turned to wait for him. When the door banged shut behind him, he said, “Delilah.”
The look in his eyes made his intentions clear, and it made her pulse flutter out of control.
He wants me.
He doesn’t want to want me, but he does.
Desire started as a rumble, grew into a roar, until her whole body shook with it. The force of these feelings grew too great for her to keep inside, and she launched herself at him. Her body hit his, and she got up on her toes to feel the whole, hard length of him.
Burrowing her face into his neck, she breathed him in. His soap, that fresh mountain air scent he had about him, and that zing of Will that triggered a hunger so real and deep, she wanted to swallow him whole.
His big hands cupped her ass, hitching her up, and she lifted her mouth to his ear. “You like everything about me?”
“I do.”
“I’m an excellent houseguest. I don’t leave messes, and I’m helpful.”
“You are.”
“And a great cook.”
“The best.”
“I have really good hygiene.”
“That, too.” She could feel his grin.
“Know what else?” She lowered her mouth to his ear. “I’m really good in bed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Will hadn’t touched her in a week, and he was done with that.
As soon as they got to the truck, they’d have a conversation. He’d spent so much of his life intent on doing the right thing, he’d completely lost sight of the fact that not everything was black and white. That sometimes you just had to grab what was right in front of you and fucking enjoy it while you had it.
“We should bring Ruby here.” Delilah stopped to take in the festival. “She’d love this.”
It was late afternoon, and the town was vibrant with visitors checking out the art in the various booths lined up on either side of the street. In front of the jail, vendors sold ice cream, cold drinks, tacos, churros, and barbecue.
“You want to look around now?” She’d cooked all day, so she hadn’t had a chance to explore. He wanted to be alone with her, but he’d stay if that’s what she wanted.
“I want to get in your truck.” She looked down at the hands he’d squeezed into fists. “So you can put those where you want them.” That pink tongue licked her bottom lip.
He flexed his hands because, yeah, he’d like nothing more than to grab a handful of her ass and haul her to him. “Let’s go.” Will knew he sounded stern and impatient, but for Christ’s sake, Delilah had jumped into his arms and pressed her breasts into his chest, licked his earlobe…and it had been six days and eleven hours since he’d touched her. There was only so much a man could take. Snagging her hand, he led her toward the parking lot.
“You’re looking pretty worked up over there.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing. I can say I need to stay on track, force myself to keep to my schedule, but nothing changes the fact that I think about you all the time. I want you. So, all this separation…it’s not working.”
“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” She squeezed his hand.
He cut her a sideways look. “If your brother showed up today and offered you a franchise, would you take it?”
As expected, she didn’t answer right away. She gave
it some thought, which made her answer more meaningful.
With his truck in sight, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and hit the remote unlock button. He let go of her hand, and they both got in. Still not speaking, he headed out of Owl Hoot.
Tires crunching over gravel, he waited.
She shifted toward him. “No. I don’t think I would.”
Four simple words. They electrified him. She’ll stay?
The frustrated breath she released made him check his enthusiasm. “I’ve had so much fun cooking in my life, with apprenticeships in Tokyo, Hawaii, and Paris—and I obviously love working in my family’s kitchen.” She looked down at the fingers laced in her lap. “But, see, that’s the thing. I love being in the kitchen, but I don’t love churning out the same recipes every night. I think who I am here is so different. It’s like I have this incredible sense of freedom to do whatever I want.” She gazed out the window. “Like, in Tokyo I made sushi the way Chef told me to. I learned to make the world’s best béchamel sauce in Paris and prepare fish in Hawaii. But here…I’m making up my own recipes. I feel like I’m my best self here.”
He forced his expectations to fit into the shape of her reality. “And you’ll take all that freedom back with you to New York and knock the hell out of your restaurant. Make it bigger and better than anything the Lua family’s ever seen.”
She gave him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah. So, no, I wouldn’t take a franchise, but when I win this competition, I’ll use the money to start my own version of Da Nonna’s.”
He clenched down on the tide of disappointment threatening to crash through. He’d known this all along. “Okay.”
She gave him a grateful smile that didn’t match the uncertainty in her eyes. Taking in the meadow on either side of them, she said, “Where are we going?”
“The back way.”
The truck bounced on the rutted dirt road, and he didn’t speak, didn’t turn on the radio. His body ached for her, so he had to call on every ounce of restraint to keep from hauling her onto his lap.