by Kait Nolan
Porter reached for the bottle and poured himself a smaller glass. “About this thing in California?”
“Yeah.”
“Ari’s pretty upset about it,” Flynn said.
“Yeah, she was when they came out here yesterday. She doesn’t want Athena to leave. Neither do I.”
Xander kicked back against the counter and crossed his arms. “Did you say that?”
How would she have responded to that tactic? To an honest declaration. Athena, I’m in love with you. Don’t go.
It hadn’t even occurred to him to take that route, and now he wouldn’t get the chance.
“No. I tried to be logical about the whole thing. To point out why it wasn’t the right choice for her.” Logan tossed back the rest of the bourbon and winced. “That’s what I meant to do.”
“But not what you actually did?” Flynn prompted.
“I could have handled it better.” Reaching for the bottle, he poured more bourbon. “I lost my temper and said some stuff I shouldn’t.” He’d hurt her, and that had never been his intention.
Xander studied him with that flat, cop stare. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you lose your cool in all the years I’ve known you. What set you off?”
“She’s not being rational about this. And she’s not being honest with herself about what she wants. What she needs. She’s throwing herself at this idea of a show full-force, still reaching for the same world, the same shit that made her miserable in the first place, using bullshit justifications that make it not really about her and her choices. I really thought she’d figured it out, that she’d changed.”
The next shot of bourbon only seemed to inflame that rare temper he thought was banked. “But hell, people don’t change. I know that. That’s the biggest reason I got the fuck out of psychology. Because I knew I’d never be able to sit in session with people, week after week, year after year, and them not take responsibility for their role in their own shit.”
Porter and Xander exchanged a look. “You didn’t actually say that, did you?”
“Not those precise words but something to that effect.” He wished he’d been calmer. Wished he’d been able to frame his thoughts some other way. Athena was a rebel. Tell her not to do a thing, and she’d go ahead and do it to spite everybody, including herself. He knew this about her, knew an ultimatum would go over like a lead balloon. And he’d done it anyway.
I won’t be held back by fear. Mine or yours.
She hadn’t been a hundred percent wrong. Logan was afraid of losing her to her career. But he wasn’t holding her back because of that. Was he?
“You’re an idiot—speaking of people not learning to take responsibility for their role in their own shit. Didn’t you learn anything from what happened with Maisey?” Xander demanded.
Of course he was gonna go there.
“Who’s Maisey?” Flynn asked.
“Are you gonna tell this, or am I?” When Logan just growled, Xander continued. “Maisey Howell was his girlfriend in college and grad school. They were together for, what, three years? Started dating his senior year at UT. Stuck together when he stayed for grad school. She had some…what’d you call it? Adjustment problems, when she graduated and hit the real world.”
Because Logan knew the specifics far better, he picked up the tale. “Graduating with honors in the middle of a recession and not being able to find a decent job did a number on her. Lot of frustration, lot of anxiety problems. She talked to me about it a lot. Of course she did. I was her boyfriend. But I was also a therapist in training, and the stuff she was saying, the dark place she was headed into, concerned me. Enough that I spoke to her parents, just to find out if they’d seen anything that worried them, too.”
“That doesn’t sound so unreasonable,” Flynn said.
“Yeah, well, turns out she had a history of depressive episodes, so what I said, the things I shared about my own concerns, were giant red flags for them. They had her hospitalized for evaluation. It was only a week, and I thought, given where her head was, that it was a good move. But when she got out, she was livid. Convinced I’d totally broken her confidence. It had taken her all of college to get out from under her parents’ thumbs, and what I’d done put her right back under the microscope. She didn’t care that I’d done it out of love because I was worried about her. For her, that was it. She couldn’t trust me anymore, and we were done.” He rolled the empty glass in his hand. “But that’s not what happened with Athena.”
“Isn’t it?” Xander challenged. “You tried to use your clinical judgment on somebody you’re in a relationship with. With good intentions, I’m sure, but you still did it. So maybe you’re just like everybody else and aren’t changing either. Because here’s a thing: with Maisey, you didn’t know all the history. You didn’t know how her parents would react by taking away all her control. But this time, you knew the history. You knew Athena’s experience with counselors resulted in them yanking her out of her home, and that she’s been something of a control freak ever since.”
“To put it mildly,” Porter muttered.
Fuck me. Logan scowled. “So I’m a hypocrite?”
“I’d say you’re human and in love with a prickly, stubborn woman who challenges you at every turn. One whose choices might be taking her far away from you.” Flynn lifted his glass. “I’d say fucking up and saying the wrong thing under those circumstances is pretty understandable.”
“Maybe,” Logan conceded.
Xander tipped the bottle against Logan’s glass. “For the record, did she actually tell you what she thinks this is going to be?”
“Her shot at redemption. She was clear enough about that.”
Xander and Flynn exchanged a knowing look.
Logan slapped his glass down on the counter. “What? What is it you know?”
“Well, it’s just that she talked all this over with her sisters before she even came out here yesterday. They went through all of this,” Flynn explained.
“She flat out said that even if it worked out, she didn’t think she wanted to do this forever,” Xander added. “But she wanted to give it a try, see what doors it might open. And if she does decide to walk away from it, she gets to do it on her own terms.”
Logan closed his eyes as the full measure of his screwup hit home. He’d accused her of pursuing all this out of sheer ego. But it hadn’t been that simple. It hadn’t been about keeping up appearances in her professional circles. It had been about going out on her own terms, when she had the final say, the ultimate control. That was her ego. That was what he should have understood when she came to him, because he knew her. But he’d let his own upset, his own panic at the idea of losing her get in the way. And now that he’d pissed her off, driven her away, he’d probably killed any chance of being in her “Stay” column after all was said and done.
“I am a dumbass,” Logan announced.
Flynn raised his glass again. “It’s a wise man can admit it.”
“But I’m not completely wrong. Every instinct I’ve got says this show is a mistake. That it’s not gonna be what she thinks it will be.”
“Maybe it won’t be. But it’s on her to figure that out,” Porter said.
Miserable, Logan eyed the last quarter of the bottle. “I just wanted to protect her from more pain and disappointment.”
“No matter how well-intentioned you are, she won’t thank you for it. Athena’s always been one who has to learn things the hard way. We’ve had to let her,” Xander said.
“How the hell do you stand it? Watching somebody you care about walk into a mistake?”
“You accept that it’s their mistake to make,” Porter pronounced. “And you’re around to help with the fallout. No judgment. No matter how much you have to swallow your tongue.”
“And in the meantime, you drown your urge to act in your favorite form of spirits. More bourbon?” Flynn suggested.
Chapter 14
In the backseat of th
e cab, Athena smoothed her sweaty palms over her skirt. She wished she’d gotten the chance to talk to Maggie again this morning. Her sister had been up and out early for work, leaving Athena to get ready for this meeting on her own. Conscious of meeting with a bunch of Hollywood types and the need to make a good impression, she’d spent a lot more time and effort on her appearance than usual. Hair. Makeup. A dress. Heels she hoped never to see again. Stuff she usually reserved for major events like weddings and funerals. She wished like hell she could do this in jeans and boots. But they were expecting a professional chef, not a farm girl.
Realizing she’d clenched her hands in her skirt, she relaxed them, smoothing the fabric again. Why the hell was she thinking about being a farm girl right now anyway? She wasn’t a farm girl. Hadn’t been since she was a kid. A couple of months hanging out with Logan didn’t change that, no matter how comfortable she’d gotten back on the farm.
He hadn’t texted or tried to call. Not to apologize and not to try to talk her out of this. That was fine. She didn’t actually want to talk to him anyway. Except that she did. She ached to hear the sound of his voice soothing the nerves and telling her she’d get through this meeting. That she’d shine and impress. But that was the fantasy version of Logan.
The real one had made it perfectly clear he wouldn’t tell her that. The real one was going to blame her for making this choice in the first place because it wasn’t the one he wanted. He wanted the one that would keep her in Tennessee, support her dad, and be magically, professionally fulfilling for her. Because apparently the real Logan believed in unicorns.
And damn it, why was she thinking of him? Again. She didn’t need all that in her head before this meeting. She needed to be on top of her game, focused on…whatever they were going to throw at her.
“Lady?”
She jolted at the sound of the cabbie’s voice. “Yeah?”
“We’re here.”
Turning her head, she caught sight of a gleaming steel and glass building with a larger-than-life version of SizzleTV’s logo front and center. “Oh. Sorry.”
She dug out cash to pay the fare and stepped out of the car, muttering a silent prayer that she didn’t take a header in these heels and embarrass herself. Inside the spacious, modern lobby she paused, searching for the reception desk.
“Athena!” Brock’s voice boomed and he strode over, his hand already outstretched to take hers and shake it. “I’m so glad you made it.”
Years of Joan Reynolds’ lessons in manners had her murmuring, “Thank you for having me.”
Tucking her hand in his elbow, Brock towed her toward the elevator. “We’ve got just enough time for a tour of the studios before we meet with everybody.”
He showed her production rooms and sets for shows she watched herself. She snapped a few pictures of those to text Ari. Her niece wasn’t any happier with her than Logan, but maybe she’d at least think it was cool. By the time they made it into the network kitchens, she began to relax a little. The gleaming commercial grade ranges and ovens elicited a sharp stab of professional lust. She wished they could have their meeting in here, so she could cook and talk and distract from her awkwardness with food. But Brock was already dragging her away, down a hall and up an elevator to a floor of offices.
The conference room he hauled her into was a hive of activity. The sheer number of people overwhelmed her, so she missed the names of most of them during the introductions. Then they were seated, her at one end of the big conference table, and everybody was looking at her.
Athena fought not to fidget.
At the other end of the table, the guy whose name she didn’t remember but who was clearly the One In Charge, kicked back in his chair. “We’re so excited you’re here.”
Okay, deep breath. You’ve got this. You’re a badass chef and you are in control. She had no idea how this meeting was meant to go, but her mother had always said start as you mean to continue. Straightening her shoulders, Athena did her best to channel Maggie’s cool, calm, collected nature. “I appreciate the opportunity. Mr. Archer hasn’t said anything just yet about the specifics of what y’all were thinking but I had a few ideas I’d like to share.”
Money Man nodded. “Sure, we’d love to hear them.”
This was what she’d used to distract herself when she couldn’t sleep the past couple of nights. “You’re in the food industry, so I know you’re all familiar with the farm-to-table or farm-to-fork movement.”
She caught nods and noises of agreement.
“It’s something I’ve always felt very passionate about. Knowing where your food comes from, how it’s grown or raised, and being able to make menus and meals from what’s peaking at any given time. Food is—or should be—inherently seasonal. I was raised on a farm, so this is something I know better than many. And it’s something I’ve been reconnecting with the past few months.”
She had a flash of Logan in jeans and a t-shirt, hands covered in good, rich earth as he lifted the latest, gorgeous produce from his land. The land that had once been hers.
Shaking the image away, she continued. “Now certainly in the restaurant scene, farm-to-table isn’t new. But it is trending, and less attention has been paid to it from the standpoint of cooking television. What I would really love to do is bring that reality to viewers. Highlight organic farmers around the country and really show people what you can do with seasonal organics and heirloom ingredients. I think it could fill a niche for your viewership that nobody else is really playing with.”
Money Man steepled his fingers. “That’s an interesting concept, but not quite what we had in mind.”
She’d assumed they had other ideas, so she settled back in her chair to listen, channeling the polite mask she always used when dealing with restaurant patrons.
“As you may not know, SizzleTV was really founded on competition. We’ve expanded our programming options, certainly, but our bread and butter around here is cooking contests with lots of pop and personality.”
Athena frowned. “Mr. Archer said you weren’t looking at me as a contestant.”
“He’s correct. We’re not. We definitely want you as a host, but we’re looking for something with more punch, more drama.”
“Drama?” A sick feeling set up in her gut.
“We’re more interested in having you be the face of SizzleTV’s answer to Kitchen Nightmares.”
A show that was all about going into other restaurant kitchens and tearing them apart before putting them back together to be a success. She understood the appeal of it. Had watched a lot of it herself. It was one of the things she and Ari had bonded over. But being entertained and being the entertainer were two very different things.
“You…don’t want me to cook?”
Money Man waved a cheerful hand. “I’m sure you’re a perfectly wonderful chef, but we want to capitalize on your existing notoriety. You were utterly magnificent in your rage and viewers will eat that up. A female Gordon Ramsay.”
They’d seen the video. Of course they had. People like this would do thorough internet research on any prospective host. Certainly her reputation would matter to public opinion, but…to do this, to keep her most embarrassing moment in the limelight…
Money Man was still talking, an avaricious gleam in his eyes as he discussed concepts and ratings and how the show would be structured, what their expectations of her really were. All centered around cementing her reputation as an unprofessional hothead.
Logan was right. It wasn’t about the food. She wouldn’t have control. And none of this was what she’d hoped it would be. This wasn’t even the world of pretension she’d left. This was worse. They were asking her to debase herself for the sake of ratings. That wasn’t a choice she could make. Not even for her father’s sake. Apparently, she had a line, and this was it.
“I’m sorry. I wish Mr. Archer had been forthcoming about this from the beginning. I came out here under the impression you wanted me to do a cooking show. Something th
at would take advantage of my expertise as a chef. I have no interest in losing my temper on camera on a weekly basis.”
Everybody started talking at once, a storm of words attempting to placate or convince. It all sounded like the buzz of so many bees, swarming around her, waiting to sting.
Embarrassed, humiliated, Athena shoved back from the table, needing to escape before she lost her shit right here. “I apologize for wasting everyone’s time.”
Before anyone could stop her, she marched out of the conference room, head held high. She made it to the elevator without being stopped, and as soon as the doors slid shut, she slipped off the hated heels.
She’d been a fool. Desperate and blind. And Logan, for all his head shrink talk, had been trying to save her from exactly this. Why hadn’t she listened?
He knew her. Understood her. Did it really matter how? He saw her. And he didn’t want to change her, didn’t want her to be anyone other than who she was. He hadn’t used his training in a bid to take her control away, in fact. He wanted success for her on her terms. She was an idiot to walk away from that.
Well, Farmer Boy, I’m listening now. And I’ll take your search for unicorns over this any day.
The elevator doors opened to the lobby, and Athena took off running. She had to get back to Tennessee.
A volley of manic barking jerked Logan from sleep. He jackknifed up in bed, hands curling to fists to defend against…what? The dogs had already bolted from the room, the skitter of their paws against the wood of the stairs echoing in the otherwise quiet house before he registered the knocking.
What the hell?
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he checked the clock. After midnight.
Maybe it was Sebastian. A problem with the horses maybe. Dragging on some jeans, he stumbled barefoot down the stairs. Bo and Peep danced in the entryway, whining and crying.
“Calm down,” he rasped, flipping on the front porch light and reaching for the door.