by J. M. Adele
“I told you. I’m looking out for you. I’m the man of the house. It’s my duty.”
Seriously? “Is that right?” she drawled, arching a blonde brow. “Sugar, I grew up without a male in the house, and I’ve done just fine. My mama taught me how to handle myself, and what she couldn’t teach me, I learned from dealing with assholes along the way. So, please spare me your misplaced macho bullshit.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. eyebrows sinking down low. “Why are you so goddamn defensive?”
“Why are you being so high handed and possessive?”
“I’m not being possessive, I’m being protective.”
She barked a humorless laugh.
He dropped his arms and expelled a weighted breath. “Jesus … Look, can we just start over? Again?”
“Only if you can back off.”
“I’ll do my best.”
His mouth tipped up in a smile that made him seem innocent. She knew the truth.
“Most women like to be cared for.”
“I think you’ll find that I’m not like most women. Never heap all women in one basket, sugar. That’s your first mistake.”
“Don’t you agree there are certain patterns of behavior that each gender conforms to?”
“Have you been reading self-help books or somethin’?” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Sometimes a woman wants to fix what’s wrong, or go into her cave and switch off. We don’t always have to talk about our problems for the sole purpose of gaining empathy or clarity. So, don’t go assuming you know women.”
“Okay. Point taken.” He twisted to face her, maneuvering his body to mirror Chelsea. “What about Greyson? He seemed pretty possessive.”
She shivered at the thought of Grey feeling possessive over her, not sure if she liked the thought of it. “I barely know him, so he has no right to feel that way. And neither do you.”
“He may not have the right, but he feels it. Believe me.”
She believed him all right. The way Grey had dragged her out of Abbiocco. The kiss he’d laid on her that promised all sorts of things she wasn’t ready for. Again, she wrapped her legs in a hug in an effort to rid her skin of goosebumps.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. If you want him gone, just give me the word.”
She wanted to laugh at his bravado, but she wasn’t that mean. There was no way Ryan could take Grey. There had to be a thirty-pound disadvantage in Ryan’s corner.
“What word would that be?”
“Hero,” he deadpanned.
She collapsed back on the arm of the sofa clutching her belly in a fit of giggles. “Oh. Ryan. That was priceless. I’ll be sure to holler that at the top of my lungs if I ever need a knight wearing a shiny metal suit.”
He put his hands on his chest. “I could get a suit of armor if that’s what you want.”
“I just want to live in a peaceful, harmonious house.”
He shook his head, pointing a finger at her. “No, you don’t. You love a good verbal slinging match.”
“Well now, see? We’re startin’ to understand each other.” She smiled.
“Yes, we are.” He jerked to a stand. “Do you want some pancakes?”
“Can you cook? I thought that was women’s work. You know, with you being the man of the house and all.”
“I know how to cook eggs, pancakes and ramen noodles.” He counted each item off the list on his fingers. “The three basic food groups a student needs for survival. My mom made sure I could do those, at least.”
“What about mac and cheese?”
“Correction. Four. Four major food groups.” He held up another finger.
“And no fruit or vegetables?”
“I can throw on some sliced banana if you want.”
“Sold.” She grinned, smacking a fist into her other palm.
“That would imply that you’re paying me. What currency are you offering?” He made a gimme gesture with his hand.
“Oh, Jesus, Ryan. You need to cut that shit out. I’m not interested in becoming a member of your harem.” She rolled her eyes behind his back as she followed him into the kitchen. “Speaking of, what’s the deal with you and Dakota?”
“What do you mean?” he called from inside the pantry.
“Oh, come on. Your hand on her leg … sitting close on the sofa …. Have you slept with her?”
He backed out, holding the flour, and faced her wearing a sly grin. “Are you jealous?”
Oh, my God. Her mouth pulled tight in annoyance. “Not in this lifetime, but I’ll give you points for persistence.”
“Relax, I’m just kidding around.”
Going over to the sink, she squirted some soap on her hands and scrubbed them clean. “Just cook the damn pancakes. I’ll cut the bananas.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He clicked his heels together and cracked an egg into the bowl.
“Please tell me you have maple syrup, and it’s free of charge and innuendo.”
“All free, so long as you get it yourself.”
“Now, that I can do.”
_____
It didn’t take long before the wafting smell of breakfast woke the other sleeping beauties and called them downstairs. At five in the morning. She almost laughed when they came stumbling in.
Chelsea watched from across the table as Dee sat beside Ryan, bumping her elbow into his, with a smile that fell short of flirty and ventured into dopey territory. Ryan seemed to buy it. They looked cozy. She wasn’t as concerned for Dakota after talking with him. He wasn’t a heartless bastard. Maybe he and Dee were after the same thing. Just a short fling to scratch an itch. There was nothing wrong with that if both parties were up front about it.
Chelsea speared another piece of banana, cutting off the pancake beneath and smearing the lot in a puddle of syrup, savoring the taste on her tongue with a hum.
“Chelsea’s making porn noises.” Hannah cocked a brow as she popped another bite of her own.
“I am not. I said hmm. That’s not moaning.”
“Sounded like a moan to me,” Dakota sucked some syrup off her fingers and bared her teeth in a cheeky grin.
“At least I’m not sucking my fingers, Dakota Does Dallas.”
“Never been to Dallas.”
“I have,” Hannah supplied, smiling a secret smile.
“Are we talking the actual Dallas, or is there a suggestion behind that comment?” Chelsea leaned back, holding up a hand. “You know what? Never mind.”
Ryan wisely changed the subject. “So, Head of the Charles is on this weekend. I’m going to need a cheer squad.”
“You row?”
“Yep, I’m an oarsman. How else do you think I maintain this oar-some bod?” He rubbed his hands down his chest and abs, striking some sort of pose that looked more like it belonged in a doctor’s office than on the cover of a fitness mag.
“Oh, no. Don’t bring out the Dad jokes. Save them for another decade down the track.”
“Are you coming?”
“Yeah, but I’ll have to bail early because I’ve got the supper shift.”
“Okay.” He dropped his fork on the plate and pushed it away. “It’s Hannah’s birthday next Wednesday. What are we doing to celebrate?”
Chelsea’s head swiveled back to Hannah as she finished up her pancakes. “It’s your birthday? Damn, I have to work.” Clearing her and Ryan’s plates, she washed the sticky syrup off her fingers.
“Aw. That’s too bad. I was thinking we could take Hannah out for a bite and maybe go to a bar afterwards. What do you think, Ryan?”
“Babe, I’m always up for the bar.” He laid a wink on Dee, coloring up her cheeks.
“You could come into Abbiocco before you go out drinkin’. I’ll make sure you get a table in my section.”
“Even better.” Ryan turned to Hannah. “What do you say?”
“I say that’d be great.” Hannah pushed her chair back, picking up her plate. “And now I’m going back to bed. It�
��s too goddamn early.”
“I agree.” Dee rose, pulling on Ryan’s arm. “You coming?”
“Are you offering?”
Chelsea grimaced. The man could not help himself. The problem was, his attention wasn’t selective. She hadn’t been that bad. Flirting with more than one guy at a time was just plain mean.
“Get outta here. I’ll clean up.”
“Thanks, babe,” Ryan said, following Dee out.
“Not your babe!” Chelsea shook her head, wondering if he’d ever stop.
_____
Rugged up in jeans, a sweater, and a jacket, Chelsea huddled in a camping chair on the grassy Riverbend Park near the Weeks Footbridge. The cuppolas perched atop the different houses in Harvard stood out across the skyline with their striking white structures, and shiny, colored domes. Chilly winds whipped along the Charles River where boats sliced through the water as they raced to the finish.
“Would you like to borrow my scarf?”
“Yes, please.” She couldn’t get the words out fast enough as Dee handed over the knitted garment.
“Southern girl. Not built for this climate, are you?” Dee turned to get some sun.
“Nope. I should’ve known it’d be colder by the water. How are the rowers just wearing tank tops? I don’t care if they’re exercising, it is fucking freezing.”
“Do some jumping jacks or something. Ryan’s race should be up next.”
“Is he the cock?”
“It’s called the Coxswain, and no he’s not.” Dee’s face tightened, unamused.
“Jeez, Dee, I know. Relax, I’m joking. Can we go and get a warm drink, after?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them with the opposite leg on top, leaning forward. “What is your problem with Ryan?”
Chelsea covered her nose with the scarf and blew out a heated breath, trying to defrost her face as she queued the confession on her tongue. “He’s me.”
“Huh?”
“He’s the worst parts of me put on display. He shoves my bad behavior in my face, showing me how immature I’ve been, and it’s … uncomfortable.” She dropped the scarf back in place under her chin. “And I don’t like how he flirts with both of us at the same time. For the record, I’ve never done that.”
“He might flirt with other women, but he’s in my bed at the end of the day.”
“So, you are sleeping together.”
“Yeah. He told me he loves me, so be nice. Please?”
Oh, honey. This wasn’t going to end well. “I’ll do my best.”
Cheers roared from the spectators on the river banks and bridge as another group of boats sped past. The Head of the Charles was the annual event for rowing. Teams from across the globe came here to test their stuff against the best of the best. Electric excitement crackled along the course, lifting Boston to the world stage for the weekend.
The team from Boston University glided past in their maroon and white, and Chelsea and Dee jumped out of their seats, yelling and clapping. She could only just make out Ryan’s determined face, second from the back as he heaved his blade through the water. So, he could commit to something and work hard. He deserved a little more credit than she’d been giving him. Watching his boat disappear around the bend, she vowed to cut him some slack.
She wouldn’t get to see this next year. Her stomach dipped as she tugged on the scarf, securing it against the icy breeze. She also wouldn’t be freezing her ass off. That was a plus.
Cranking her head towards Dee, she almost heard ice crack as she moved her frozen muscles. “What did Hannah say she was doing, again?”
“Early birthday lunch with her family.”
In a warm house. “Lucky bitch.”
“Have you found out anything about the new guy?” Dee’s eyes fixed on the river as she tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair.
“Greyson?” Chelsea said his name like he hadn’t been in her thoughts constantly since his surprise appearance at Abbiocco.
Shifting her gaze to Chelsea, Dee scoffed. “Yes. Greyson. Are you being coy or obtuse?”
Yeah, Dakota wasn’t buying the innocent act.
Was it that obvious?
“His folks run a cattle ranch in Mississippi. He was a cowboy.”
“A cowboy? Lucky bitch.” Dee quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “What’s he doing up here in the city?”
“His grandma taught him to cook. He’d rather be in a kitchen than a barn. End of story.”
“Oh, come on. There’s more to him than that.”
“I’m sure there is, but it’s not a good idea for me to get to know him. I’ve sworn off men, and he is a temptation I don’t need.”
“You? You have sworn off men?”
“I made a deal with myself to change my ways. And Dane bet me a pair of Blahniks that I wouldn’t last until the end of the year.”
“Who’s Dane?”
“We work together at the restaurant. He’s the host.”
“Right. I don’t see you wearing those shoes any time soon. Not with Greyson under your nose. He is too irresistible.”
“Aren’t you lusting after Ryan?”
“Of course.”
Her gaze shifted to the water again as those fingers continued making silent music.
Chelsea snapped her head around and bunched her shoulders on hearing a loud crunch accompanied by shouting and gasps from the crowd. They watched, jaws slack in disbelief, as two boats collided, splashing and rocking while they righted themselves and got back in the race.
Her hand flew to her chest where her heart slammed against her ribcage. “Holy shit. Did MIT just get taken out by … who’s the yellow team?”
“Peking University. And I think they’re the ones who are worse off.” Dee folded up her chair, ready to go.
She walked to the water’s edge to watch the boat struggle its way towards Eliot Bridge. “Yeah, they’re taking in water. Damn. Sucks for them.” They weren’t giving up. Her lips tilted up. That was impressive.
Chelsea pulled her attention back to packing up, before looking up at the bridge, distracted by a flash of white. “Is that …” Squinting her eyes, she raised a hand to block the sun. “… a bride and groom on the bridge? They must be hard core rowing fanatics.”
Hm. Weddings. Her brain fired with all sorts of possibilities. A grand scheme in the making. She had to think of all the benefits and the potential liabilities. Her plan would have to be solid before she shared it. This was something they had to take advantage of before the opportunity was lost. She bounced on her toes, eager to get hold of a pen and paper. Even a napkin would do.
“Let’s go get that drink.”
_____
Sitting on the bench in Matteo’s office, Chelsea watched, amused by his attempts to ignore her. He was a stubborn man. She was worse. She’d sit there all damn day if she had to.
“Did you know the space next door is up for lease?”
Air whistled out of his nose in a drawn-out breath. “I had noticed that, yes.”
“Are you looking into it?”
“Why would I need to do that?” Cursing, he hammered his finger on the backspace key.
“Can’t you see it?”
He tossed her an impatient look. “What am I supposed to be seeing, Chelsea?”
“It has an identical glass ceiling, doesn’t it?”
“Sì.”
“You could knock out part of the dividing wall to give staff access to your brand-new function center. Think about it. Weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs, engagement parties, all under the stars with catering by the famous Matteo Agrioli from Abbiocco. Do you know how much the wedding industry is worth? We could team up with hotels to do a package deal, and attract people from all around, with your reputation as the juicy carrot.”
Matteo’s hands stilled on the keyboard, his attention now firmly on Chelsea.
“You’re not saying anything. Why are you not saying anything?” She bit her lip and claspe
d her hands.
“I’m thinking of the possibilities, good and bad.”
“Okay. That’s encouraging.”
“I’ll need market research. Cost projections. A business plan.”
“Uh huh.” She nodded, her blonde waves bouncing eagerly. “I’ve already started putting it all together.”
“Have you, now?” He tapped his fingers on the desk and pushed his glasses up his nose. “The construction noise is going to mess with my lunch service.”
“Yes, but the dinner service will be mostly unaffected. We can schedule the noisy, messy stuff during Mondays, when we’re closed. We’ll talk to the contractors about minimizing the impact. You might lose some days, but I can’t imagine it being more than that with most of the work happening next door. It will be a few private rooms, separate from the restaurant except for the staff access between. What do you think?”
Taking his glasses off, he fixed his unfathomable metallic gaze on her. She couldn’t fight the urge to squirm as he made her wait for his answer.
After a minute, he spoke. “We’re going to need a bigger kitchen.”
She laughed and slapped her hands together. “Yes, we are.” Throwing the real estate agent’s card on his desk, she sprang up from the seat. “Give them a call and make an appointment for a look see.”
Propping his glasses back on, he affixed his eyes back on his monitor. “Get me those projections, asap.”
“Done.”
Only just beginning.
As soon as she had the thought, she realized she wouldn’t be sticking around to see it through. But the current continued to swirl in her blood, leading her to this place. She understood that now. Boston was enticing her to stay. Her two homes were putting up their dukes in a confusing battle she didn’t want to think about. Alabama would win in the end.
Wouldn’t it?
Celebrations
Chelsea walked through the bustling bodies in the kitchen, the symphony of sizzling, bubbling, and mixing, joined the chatter of the staff. Several cooks and chefs manned the lines, prepping for the night ahead. Things were relatively calm and organized. The first orders of the night wouldn’t start coming through for another hour or so. As always, the mouth-watering smell of food stirred her stomach and her taste buds. Stealthily, she nabbed a sliver of prosciutto to calm the cravings.