“Aunt Sally used to make me go in there and get canned peaches for dessert,” Peggy said. “Liz was too scared of the bugs.”
Liz laughed. “That’s right. I’d forgotten that.”
Lola was motioning to them that she was ready. Grant took Liz’s hand as they walked across the yard. “I’ll protect you from bugs, Lizzie.”
She smiled up at him. “Good. Because I’m still afraid of them.”
**
A pretty woman with strawberry blond hair greeted them as they walked inside. She flashed a shy smile. “I’m Lee. I’d know you two in a second, even if I hadn’t seen you on television during the trial coverage.” She grabbed Liz and then Grant into a quick hug. “I feel like I know you two already. Stefan and Gennie have told us a lot about both of you. As you know, they’re dear to us here in River Valley.” Lee turned to Peggy and held out her hand. “Welcome to River Valley.”
“Thanks so much. I’m Liz’s sister,” Peggy said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Lee shook Lola’s hand next. “My grandmother’s Ellen White. You spoke to her yesterday on the phone.”
“Yes, yes. Oh my, I can see both your parents in you,” Lola said. “When I spoke to your grandmother, she told me the amazing story the two of you share.”
“Isn’t it remarkable? All those years we never realized who we were to each other. We missed so many years of being together.”
Missing time. It seems to be a theme.
“I went to school with your parents,” Lola said. “We were all in the same graduating class.”
“You knew my dad?” Lee’s voice softened.
“I did. All the girls in our class had a crush on him. He was quite brilliant and handsome. But he only had eyes for your mother.”
“Really?” Lee asked. “It’s hard to imagine.”
Lola sighed. “Your grandmother told me about her troubles. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Lee shrugged. “Thank you. Alcoholism is a disease. An awful one. It’s taken some time, but I’ve been able to forgive her. As my grandmother Ellen says, no one would choose the bottle over living unless they were sick.”
“Your grandmother was my favorite English teacher. Even though she scared the pants off me,” Lola said.
Lee laughed. “She’s still kind of scary.” She turned to the others. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. We probably sound like we’re talking nonsense, but Lola understands how it all fits together. Small towns. They all have Dairy Queens, and everyone knows everything about you.”
“Even when you’ve been in France for forty years,” Lola said.
Grant laughed. “I’m from Legley Bay. We have a Dairy Queen too.”
Lee grabbed menus from her podium. “Now come along. I have a special table by the window for you.”
They followed her into the restaurant. Men at a table in the corner turned to look at Liz and Peggy with appreciative glances. Liz shivered when Grant took her hand as they crossed over to their table. He wants everyone to know I belong to him.
Grant held chairs for Liz and Peggy while Lee did the same for Lola. Once the ladies were seated, Grant took the empty seat next to Lola. Lee set menus in front of them, then lingered. “It really is true about six degrees of separation, isn’t it? What are the odds that you have family here in River Valley, Liz?”
“I know. Gennie and I have said that to each other often,” Liz said.
Peggy chuckled. “It is a small world. We never forgot how much we loved it here. But we didn’t have a reason to come back until Lola contacted us.”
“Family comes just when you need them,” Lola said.
“Now we’ll have two reasons to visit,” Liz said. “Gennie says their house will be done by fall.”
Lee nodded. “Their property’s just up the road from us.” She placed her hands on her slim hips. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll check in with you later.”
Peggy was already looking at the menu. “The menu’s phenomenal.”
“Stefan can’t stop talking about the food here,” Grant said.
A waiter came by, dressed in black with a crisp white apron that matched the tablecloths. The shiny man bun piled on top of his hipster head seemed incongruent with his surroundings, but who was she to judge? “I’m Clark. Our chef, Annie Webber, creates the menu at the whim of the seasons. We’ve just launched our summer menu with ingredients from local farms. Almost every ingredient, from our grass-fed beef to the trout caught in our own river, are from right here in the valley.”
Clark asked if they’d had a chance to look over the wine list. Lola nodded, winking at Liz. “They have a few good French wines on the menu. Should I choose?”
“By all means,” Grant said.
“We’ll start with this French Chablis,” Lola said, pointing to the wine menu. “For our main course, we’ll have a red, but I’ll wait to see what my friends order for dinner first.”
A few minutes later Clark returned to pour wine and take their orders. They all asked to start with the cold pea soup, which Liz suspected she wouldn’t like but didn’t want to admit to anyone. For their main courses, the ladies all chose the pan-seared Rainbow Trout served over a summer squash risotto. Grant ordered the beef tenderloin served with a sweet potato au gratin.
Between the French wine and delicate flavors of Annie’s food, the next hour was spent in a series of sensual delights.
“This place lives up to the hype,” Peggy said. “I’m a little jealous.”
Liz looked closely at her sister. Peggy had been quiet during dinner. A restaurant like this had been her dream when she’d graduated from culinary school.
It was nearing closing by the time they finished their chocolate soufflés with raspberry sauce. The place was almost empty when Lee appeared at their table with dessert wine.
“How was it?” Lee said. “Did we exceed your expectations?”
“Very much so,” Peggy said. “I’m a chef, and I can tell you honestly this is one of the best meals I’ve ever had.”
“That pleases me to no end,” Lee said. “I’ll be sure and tell Annie. She’s running on fumes these days. She has a six-month-old, plus a preteen at home. Working nights is rough. All evening she was saying how off her game she feels. She’ll be glad to hear your praises.”
“What praises?” A young woman in a chef’s coat appeared behind Lee.
“Ah, here’s our chef now,” Lee said. “This is Annie Webber.”
Round-faced and pretty, Annie’s skin suggested a white rose with touches of light pink. Springy blond curls escaped from her bun. “I’m glad you enjoyed the meal.”
They all praised the food at once.
“Would you like to join us for a drink?” Grant asked.
“Maybe a glass of wine before I go home. It always takes me a bit to unwind after a busy night like the one we just had.” She motioned for the server to bring her a drink as Grant got her a chair from one of the other tables.
“Thank you,” Annie said as she sank into the chair. “I’m exhausted.”
“We heard you’re pretty busy at home,” Liz said.
“Yes, and my other chef quit. I have a fantastic sous chef who’s been with us from the beginning. Billy. He’s rock solid, but not formally trained and didn’t feel comfortable taking over for me when I was out on maternity leave. I hired another chef to take my place with the understanding that he would be the backup for Billy and me on various nights. However, he didn’t like it when I came back from maternity leave. He missed being in charge and didn’t particularly like taking orders from a woman. Plus, Billy told me he was a tyrant.”
Peggy nodded sympathetically. “Male chefs. The power goes to their heads.”
“Like on those shows on the Food Network,” Grant said.
“You watch the food network?” Liz asked.
“Sometimes. A lot of times.” Grant flashed a sheepish grin. I adore this man.
Clark brought Annie’s glass of wine. She shrugged out of her chef’s coat a
nd took a sip. “That’s nice.”
“Are you looking to hire someone to replace your backup chef?” Peggy asked.
“I need to yesterday,” Annie said. “My husband’s not happy with me, but I can’t just leave the restaurant during our busiest season.”
Liz snuck a sidewise glance at her sister. Was she thinking of applying for the job? Her question was answered quickly.
“I’m looking for a new position. I’m newly divorced. I want to leave Los Angeles if possible,” Peggy said.
Leave Los Angeles? What was she talking about? She can’t leave me.
“I’d be interested in cooking for you if you like the look of my resume. I graduated from the Art Institute of America ten years ago and interned at Roderick’s in Los Angeles. They eventually hired me. I worked there for five years before I opened my own catering company after my daughter was born.”
“Sure. I’ll take a look,” Annie said. “Did you work under Will Meengs at Roderick’s?”
Peggy smiled. “I did. Talk about a tyrant.”
“I’m sure it was a good training ground,” Annie said.
“Yes. Learning under fire. Culinary school didn’t prepare me for the people aspect of the job,” Peggy said.
“That’s the hardest part,” Annie said. “Especially for someone like me. Being stern in the kitchen isn’t my strongest quality.”
Peggy shook her head as if she understood perfectly. “Especially when it’s a man’s world.”
“Amen,” Annie said. “Can you come by tomorrow afternoon? We can talk further and cook together. You can stay for the dinner shift. Friday nights are always crazy, and we’re open late.”
Peggy’s face gleamed like a shiny coin. “I’ll be here.” She looked over at Liz. “And long as you can take care of Beth.”
“Auntie Liz to the rescue,” Liz said.
“You guys can come over and we’ll take her for a swim at one of my favorite river spots,” Lola said. “We’ll wear her out for auntie.”
Grant laughed, his gaze darting between them.
“What’s so funny?” Liz asked.
“It would have taken men three weeks to accomplish what you all just did in three minutes.”
Notes from a guitar pulled their attention to the bar. A band had set up while they talked.
“Live music?” Grant asked.
“That’s Tommy’s band. Lee’s husband. They play four nights a week in the summer,” Annie said.
“Can we stay?” Liz asked.
“You guys stay,” Peggy said. “I want to get a good night’s rest.”
“I should probably go home too,” Lola said. “I’m ready for my pajamas and a cup of tea.”
“I’ll drop you ladies off on my way home,” Annie said.
A few minutes later, Liz and Grant sat at the counter in the bar.
“What’s your poison?” The bartender was a woman in her late forties with soft blond hair tucked behind her ears. She set two napkins in front of them. “I’m Cindi with an i. A little birdie told me you two are friends with Stefan and Gennie, which means you’re friends of mine. We sure do miss them here.”
“They’re coming in August,” Grant said.
“Just heard that good news myself. What a life they have—filming all over the world,” Cindi said. “Now what’s your poison?”
“Bourbon neat. Bourbon on the rocks for my beautiful companion,” Grant said. “Makers, if you have it.”
“Course we have it,” Cindi said.
Liz turned her attention to the band. Tommy sang the opening notes of a country ballad. Couples filled the dance floor.
Grant slipped from the bar stool. “Dance with me?”
“Sure.” She smiled up at him as he offered his hand.
Liz wore high-heeled wedge sandals, giving her a few extra inches. Regardless, his bulk and height enveloped her. His hand covered the entire small of her back as he led them around the dance floor. She melted into him, letting him take the lead as they moved in harmony across the crowded dance floor. Like riding a bicycle, it didn’t matter that time had elapsed between this dance and ones from ten years ago. Their muscle memory knew what to do. How had she ever thought she could dance with anyone else but Grant? Should she pinch herself? Was this a dream? Would she wake alone in her bed in California?
As if he knew her thoughts, he whispered in her ear. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“Me either.”
They danced to several more songs. She succumbed to the moment. Tonight was a reprieve from everything but Grant and the music and the way it felt to be in his arms.
“You make me forget everything else,” Grant said. “None of the rest of it matters as long as you’re by my side.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“How am I doing?”
“Dancing?”
“No, winning you back.”
“On a scale of one to ten, eleven.” She giggled.
“Only eleven? Challenge accepted.”
Nearing eleven o’clock, he whispered in her ear, “It’s time for me to take you back to the room. I’ve waited long enough. I want you in my bed.”
She shivered as desire jolted through her. “I want to be in your bed.”
**
Standing by the window in Grant’s room, Liz slipped out of her sandals and wriggled her toes in the plush carpet.
“Come look at the moon,” she said.
Her stomach fluttered as Grant bolted the door and crossed the room to her. When he was by her side, she hooked her arm into his. They gazed out the window. A half-moon nestled among thousands of stars shed soft light into the room. The mountains were purple shadows. A star shot across the sky.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
“I did.”
“When I was a kid, I used to spend hours in Aunt Sally’s backyard waiting for a falling star.”
“Did you ever see one?”
“Many times. But each time, it was as special as the time before.”
He turned to face her. “You’re my shooting star.”
She reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You always know just what to say to melt me.”
Instead of smiling like she expected, his expression intensified. “No, Lizzie. This isn’t about charming you out of your dress. I need you to understand something. This night—this gift you’re giving me—I get that I don’t deserve it. Hell, I don’t deserve this second chance, but I’m grateful. I’ll not let you down this time.”
“I’m counting on it.”
He knelt and wrapped his arms around her waist with an expression of a starving man. Starving for her. “If I live to be ninety, I’ll never forget what you look like right now,” he said.
“Me either.” She breathed in his spicy scent and traced her finger over his chiseled features. He drew her closer and kissed her as if he wanted to imitate the moon’s soft light.
She loosened the top button of his shirt and kissed the hollow of his neck.
“Lizzie,” he whispered.
“No more talking.” She undid one button and then another, licking his salty skin as she did so.
A low groan escaped from his chest. “You’re killing me here.” He ran his fingers up her bare calves to the backs of her thighs.
“I said no talking.”
“Sorry.” He stroked her hot, wet spot between her legs with both of his thumbs.
She gasped and pressed her chest against his face.
He unzipped her dress. The silky material glided over her skin and fell to the floor. She stood in her black bra and panties. His gaze was like his touch, creating fires wherever it landed. She ached for more.
Grant scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. His hands were everywhere, awakening her skin to pleasures long forgotten. When he reached her panties, he slid them down her legs and tossed them aside.
Teasing the skin of her neck with his tongue, he unhooked her bra with deft fingers. He f
licked each of her nipples with his tongue until she moaned and the area between her legs throbbed. She wrapped her hands in his hair and sighed. “You feel so good.”
“Shhh…no talking,” he said.
He tugged off his clothes with swift movements. She watched with greedy eyes as he took off his boxers.
When he finally covered her body with his own, she whimpered. He kissed her, then worked his way down to her neck and breasts. His erection pressed against her. She opened her legs, encouraging him to take her. Now. He entered her and she gasped at how good he felt, how right this felt. Propping his arms just above her shoulders, he thrust deep. She pressed into his backside. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“I won’t.”
She wrapped her legs around him as he thrust harder. The pleasure pushed aside all coherent thought. Her nails pressed into his back. The intensity built one spasm after another until she was no longer in control. She was a body on fire. Her back arched as the climax started, building in intensity until she cried out.
“Oh, God, Lizzie.” He gasped and moaned as his release spilled into her.
He held her as she drifted off to sleep. How had she ever been with anyone other than Grant? There was no one else for her. Only Grant. Forever and always.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Grant
GRANT GRIPPED THE steering wheel of his rental car as he turned down the gravel road. At the end of this road, there would be answers. Minutes from now he would meet Mike Huller. He would know instinctually if his hunch was right. This is my father. Or, this isn’t my father. He was sure to sense it one way or the other. Wouldn’t he? An image of Darth Vader popped into his mind, and he almost laughed out loud. Luke, I am your father.
Taking his sweaty hands from the steering wheel, he wiped them on his cargo shorts. Should he have dressed better? He’d chosen a light blue t-shirt made from soft cotton because he knew he’d be hot. And sweaty. He didn’t want to shake Mike Huller’s hand with damp skin. That would make a terrible impression. Nice to meet you. I perspire profuse amounts, and I may be your son. He should have worn the linen pants paired with one of those ridiculously expensive designer button-downs that were like Hawaiian shirts but made from better fabric. What was the name of that designer? The stores looked like Panama. Was it Panama? Never mind. That’s not what’s important now.
Riverstorm Page 17