by Ciara Shayee
“Hardly,” Jones laughs. “We’ve smashed through prep, so we’re taking a well-earned break.”
Lily looks between the two of us. “‘We?’ Since when do you come in for prep, Mr. Executive Chef?”
Frowning, I remind her that I always used to come in and help prep before retreating to my office.
“Exactly, used to.” She grins. “It’s nice to see you in your chef whites, that’s all. It makes a nice change.”
Looking down at the ‘EC’ for ‘executive chef’ embroidered on the chest of my jacket, I decide enough is enough and tell them to come find me in my office if they need me. Their words play on my mind as I pay an outstanding bill and send an email to my accountant to set up a meeting.
Am I really that bad at spending time in my own kitchen?
I used to pride myself on being involved in the day-to-day running of the restaurant. It was one of my favorite things about owning Burger Co.—getting to see the customers enjoying the menu I designed, seeing my team working hard together.
Thinking about it, I can’t remember the last time I spent a morning prepping with Jones. The night Piper helped out with the bachelor party was the first time in weeks that I spent more than a handful of minutes out front. It’s disconcerting to acknowledge that my staff have noticed me pulling back.
The muffled beep of an incoming text distracts me from my increasingly self-flagellating thoughts. Pulling my cell out, I grimace.
1 new message – Mom
I can read the first line of the message at the top of the screen. Even just the handful of words I can already see make me stomach knot.
We were so disappointed not to see you…
Deciding, in this case, that it’s better just to rip off the band-aid, I bypass the text and pull up my contacts list instead. Before I can second-guess myself, I tap Mom’s name and hit the ‘call’ button.
It only rings for a few moments. “Honey, we were expecting you to come in for the holiday.”
“Mom…” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I told you, I can’t just up and leave Burger Co. on one of our busiest holidays. We cater the parade, you know that.”
“Oh, I know, it would just be nice to have you home with us.”
Utah hasn’t been ‘home’ for a long time. She knows that, too. Apparently, knowledge and reason go out of the window when it gives her a chance to guilt me.
Awkward silence descends until I hear Dad’s voice in the background. “It’s Kellan. Here, why don’t you speak to him.” It’s not a request, and it doesn’t shock me, either.
She never knows what to say to me anymore.
“Son, this is a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“How are you? How was your Fourth?”
I’ve never been more grateful for my dad than I have been these last six years. Where my mom has become awkward and withdrawn, he still speaks to me the same way he always did. We shoot the shit for a few minutes, trading Fourth of July stories—my younger brother Lucas, his wife Sabrina, and their son Matty spent the holiday with Mom, Dad, and our grandparents.
I was missed, apparently.
Dad listens attentively while I talk about the Burger Co. truck and how well it’s doing, even with the added competition of the pizzeria right on the beach.
“That’s great, son. I’m proud of you. Have you thought any more about expanding?”
I’m pleasantly surprised that he even remembers my loose plans to look into making Burger Co. branded sauces and spice mixes. I told him about it a while ago and, honestly, I’d sort of forgotten about it myself.
“I’m still thinking about it, for sure.”
“Good.” The pride in his voice is disconcerting; I’m not used to hearing it.
Mom and Dad made no secret of the fact they didn’t want me to leave Utah and make Florida home—much like Carson and Bethany didn’t want Piper to study in England. They spent my entire senior year of high school trying to talk me out of it. They failed, of course, and in that first handful of years living here, when I was setting up the house, they admitted they were proud of what I was doing.
But that was before I wrecked everything. I haven’t done much to make them proud recently.
Dad clears his throat. “Have you, uh, heard from Sullivan?”
From his chagrined tone and the way his voice becomes a little quieter, I can pretty safely assume Mom is still nearby and Dad hasn’t heard from him, either. “No, not for a couple months.” Thinking back, I amend my statement. “Actually, he did send me a picture of himself wearing the tee I sent for his birthday.”
“I sent a gift, but I didn’t hear anything back,” Dad admits.
That was June fifth, so a month ago. However, I’m not surprised that Sullivan hasn’t contacted Dad in that time, to be honest. He’s a good guy, my dad, but he doesn’t always make the best decisions when it comes to Sullivan.
“All right, well, I’ll pass you back to your mom. I’m just on my way out to pick up Matty for a sleepover. But, son…” He trails off, finally sighing. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? It’s really great to hear your voice occasionally.”
Guilt turns my stomach. “Sure thing, Dad. It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice, too.”
“All right. Here’s your mom.”
“Thanks.”
After some hushed murmuring that I can’t quite decipher, Mom comes back on the line. She has my back up immediately. “Did your dad tell you who came over yesterday?”
“Lucas, Sabrina, Matty…Grandma, Grandpa…” I let my words fall away as my heart falls to my feet, because her faux-innocent tone can only mean one thing—one person.
“Shannon popped in with her mom and dad,” she says cheerfully, as if mentioning that woman isn’t something I’ve asked her not to do a hundred times or more.
“Mom…” I grit out, my fist clenched so hard around my phone that it hurts.
“She’s got a new job. Apparently, it brings her out to the east coast occasionally.”
“I’m not doing this with you again. Shannon and I, we’re never going to happen.”
“Oh, Kellan, honey, I just—”
I don’t know why I even tried cutting her off. We’ve had this discussion many times. It always ends in a headache at best, a debilitating hangover the following day at worst.
“I mean it. If you want to talk about her, I’m hanging up the phone right now. Your choice.”
When her next sentence starts with ‘but wouldn’t it be nice to see her again?’ I know how today is going to end, so I tell her ‘goodbye’ and hang up the phone.
She probably hasn’t even put her phone down before I’m pouring myself a bourbon from the bottle I keep in my desk drawer.
*
I don’t see Piper again until Saturday morning.
After letting myself into Carson and Bethany’s house, as ordered in the invite I was texted yesterday, I set my dish of French toast on the counter and find everybody out back. As usual at a Fitzgerald brunch, most people are in their swimwear—including Piper, much to my combined delight and frustration.
Now I know what’s under that bikini, it seems almost sacrilegious to keep it covered.
“KP! Hi, sweetheart.”
Bethany appears out of nowhere, linking her arm through mine. “Hi, Beth. How’re you?”
“Good, good. I have all my family around me and it’s a beautiful day here in the bay. What’s not to like?”
Catching Piper’s gaze as she shoots me a wink over her mom’s shoulder, I can’t help but agree.
It doesn’t take very long for the boys to talk me into refereeing their Noodle Races. Leaving my shirt on the back of a chair, I saunter over to where their current—and apparently retiring—referee is sitting.
“Good morning, handsome,” Little Grandma sings, giggling when my ears immediately heat up. “You’re too cute, KP.”
“Uh, thanks, L
ittle Grandma.” Her smile widens at my use of her favored moniker. I learned my lesson early on that calling her anything other than ‘Little Grandma’ will earn me the stink-eye and a clip around the ear. “How’re you? Is Freddie still looking after you?”
Her hazel eyes flash with mischief as she lets me help her to her feet. “He has his uses, my dear.”
“Oh, God.” Piper saves me with a theatrical groan, looping an arm through her grandma’s. “Are you corrupting Kellan, Little Grandma?”
“Of course not! Would I do such a thing?”
“Yes,” Piper tells her with a laugh that makes me smile. “You would.” Looking over her shoulder at the patio, where the rest of the adults are gathered, Piper tells her Grandpa Freddie to keep a leash on his wife.”
“No use, Piper love. She’d enjoy it too much!” he calls back, much to the disgust of his family.
“Christ, Grandpa,” Sebastian mumbles, shaking his head.
Little Grandma heads over to her husband, laying one on him before sitting herself in one of the free seats.
Piper recaptures my attention with a quiet hum. She heats the blood in my veins with just a look, her eyes shamelessly roaming over me. For the first time in years, I’m glad I stuck to my running regime and kept the weights in my garage. I may be a year or so shy of forty, but I know I’m in good shape.
“Cut it out, short stuff. There are kids present, and looking at me like that is a surefire way to make sure they all end up as corrupted as I am after watching that little display by your grandparents.”
Her light burst of laughter draws a little attention, not that she looks bothered as she drops herself down on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water. “Come on, Kellan. It’s your turn to referee. I should warn you, they all cheat.”
“Do not!” Jaxson, Finley, Arlo, and Danny chorus as one; their cheeky smirks say otherwise.
“All right, you little yahoos. Starting positions. And you should know, I’m a hardass and I’ll be watching you all carefully. Cheaters don’t win on my watch, got it?” I tease, trying to look stern even though I’m distracted as shit by the view Piper’s seated position gives me. I can see right down her top.
Board shorts and boners don’t mix well, so I search my mind for something else to concentrate on.
Freddie’s comments about Little Grandma liking leashes should do it.
After three races, I see what Piper means about the boys. They’re little cheaters. Danny is by far the worst, but Jaxson is a close second. As punishment, I make them take a two second penalty at the side of the pool every time I catch them tugging their opponent back or splashing them so they can’t see. They still cheat, they just get sneakier about it. They have both me and Piper in stitches.
By the time Bethany and Gianna call us all over to eat, the boys look like drowned rats and Piper and I aren’t much better. With the amount of splashing the boys did, we might as well have been in the water with them.
“No running, boys!” Bethany warns, smiling when they all slow to a brisk walk to fight for the chairs closest to the food.
There’s no stifling my grin when they bypass everything on the table to home in on the French toast I brought over.
“Thank our executive chef for the French toast, boys,” Gianna teases. “EC came through, yet again.”
Finley scrunches up his nose. “Who’s EC?”
Over a delicious spread, Gianna explains that ‘EC’ is just short for ‘executive chef.’ The boys shrug it off and tuck into the food, my toast going down a treat, as usual. It’s one of my favorite breakfast foods to make. It’s also Everly’s favorite to eat, so I chuckle as she piles her plate high and flashes me two thumbs up along with a beaming smile.
“I don’t know how you don’t sink every time you get in the water, the amount of food you eat,” Sebastian taunts, the boys fighting over something at the other end of the table as Bethany fusses over her husband, and this feels like home in a way Utah never did.
Fourteen
Piper
“Arlo Maxwell Fitzgerald, so help me…stand still.”
“Sorry, Momma.”
Blowing out a long breath, I quickly finish brushing his hair into some semblance of order before giving up and twisting it into a bun on top of his head. He’s only going to mess it up again in five minutes, anyway.
“All right, you can go.” He gets halfway down the stairs before I remember to yell that he’s still got twenty minutes to wait before he can swim. His groan makes me grin, but I know he won’t push his luck. He’s already been told off by me and Mom this week for sneaking into the pool earlier than we said he could.
Turning back to the mirror, I reach for the hairbrush again, this time to sort out my own mane. Larking around in the pool with the boys and Kellan is fun, but it sure makes for untidy, waterlogged hair. Like a loon, I’m smiling at myself in the mirror and remembering the beautiful sound of Kellan’s laughter mixed with the giggles of my boys when there’s a light tap on the doorframe.
Kellan’s lips curl up into his signature grin as I meet his gaze in the mirror. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I breathe, frozen in place by the look in his eyes.
I know that look.
The me of ten years ago is squeezing inside and dancing around with an ‘I’ve seen Kellan Patterson’s O face’ sign.
The me of today is just wondering if, and when, I’ll get to see it again.
“Umm…are you…is everything okay?”
“Mmhmm,” he hums, crossing his thick arms and leaning against the doorframe with one ankle over the other, grass-green eyes shining.
It’s only then that I realize I’m giving him quite the show. My arms being stretched up to manhandle my hair into submission mean that my breasts are being pushed together, which of course he can see perfectly in the mirror. Instead of lowering my arms, which is my first thought, I decide to have a little fun. I’ve had to resist drooling over his shirtless chest all morning—turnabout is fair play, after all.
His husky groan a few seconds later as I make a show of tipping my head back and arching my chest to gather my hair in a ponytail is just as much a taunt for me as my little show is for him.
Peering up at him as I suck him all the way to the back of my throat, I’m rewarded with a delicious groan and a slight, instinctive buck of his hips. The ball of need drops lower, heat spreading through my veins.
“Where did your mind just go, Piper?”
With a gasp, I realize my distraction gave him the chance to step into the room. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, locking the door that leads into Everly’s room before advancing on me like a predator stalks his prey. He doesn’t have to work very hard.
I’m his willing captive.
Lightly grazing his fingers over my hip, he reaches up with the other hand to push my ponytail over my shoulder. Making use of his new access, Kellan plants a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. Sighing breathily, I lean into his chest, closing the gap to tip my head back against his chest as my eyes slide shut.
“Perfection. You’re perfect, Piper.” His mumbled words vibrate through my skin and all the way down to my core.
After so long without, I never would have expected one night of passion to ignite my hormones like one night with Kellan has.
My skin hums with electricity, his hands roaming everywhere except the places I really want them. It’s obvious by the way he’s holding me that he doesn’t plan to take this any further than a little teasing.
I have other ideas.
Just when he sighs and pulls away, I spin in his arms and loop my hands behind his neck to tug him down to me. His lips meet mine with a surprised huff of laughter which quickly turns into a moan as all the air rushes from the room. My heart takes off at a sprint, my breaths choppy. I don’t want to stop kissing him to breathe, but I finally have to when lightheadedness threatens my abilit
y to remain standing.
Brushing featherlight kisses down his neck to his chest, I smile against his skin and suck in a lungful of his lingering aftershave and swimming-pool scent, every groan and mumbled curse lighting a fire in me.
A girl could get addicted to the insanely hot sounds he makes when he forgets to be stoic.
The warmth of his sun-soaked skin against my lips is nothing compared to the heat of his hands as he lifts me at the waist, walking me backward until my butt hits the counter. The hairbrush clatters to the floor, the soap bottle not far behind it.
In this position, our hips are level. There isn’t an ounce of bashfulness in my body as I loop my thighs around his waist, tugging him closer so the very visible bulge in his board shorts rubs against the impossible-to-ignore ache between my legs.
“Fuck, yes, Kellan.”
Rumbling a growl against my neck, he gives me a slow, deliberate thrust, his lips parted, breath hot over my skin. “I swore I wouldn’t maul you.”
“Maul away,” I laugh breathlessly, pulling him closer, wanting him even more so. “Kiss me.”
There’s no need to ask the man twice. His mouth comes down hard over mine, his sweet Coke breath and desperation-tinged kisses almost making me completely forget that we’re in my parents’ house, with my entire family roaming around on the other side of the flimsy bathroom door.
Footsteps on the stairs break through my Kellan haze.
“Shit.”
He hears them, too. We’re both panting as we listen to them approach the door before continuing down the hall. So it’s Everly or Rosie, then. The boys sound like elephants, so it definitely isn’t them, and Mom and Dad have their bedroom downstairs.
Sending up a fervent prayer that whoever it is won’t come in here—or try to—I run my fingers through the soft, baby fine hairs at the back of Kellan’s head. A laugh almost bubbles free when he lightly bumps his forehead against mine and lets out a sound reminiscent of a purr.
“Did you just purr?” I whisper incredulously.
“Maybe,” he grumbles, sighing long and low as we listen to the footsteps return before heading down the stairs. Pulling back, he rubs his beard and eyes me with trepidation. “I really didn’t come up here to maul you. I wasn’t kidding.”