Stirring Up Trouble

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “Mushroom sauce on the scallops,” she said, and they both frowned at his miss.

  “Fuck. Sorry, chef.” He slid the dish back up to the pass so she could finish plating it. This special had been on the tasting menu barely three hours ago, and Carly always went out of her way to make sure the staff knew what everything was supposed to look like when it went out the door. How had he missed something so obvious?

  Kind of easy when all you can think about is what you’re not going home to.

  “Is Bree doing okay in the break room?” Carly worked her magic with efficient hands, finishing the scallops with just a few simple touches.

  “She’s actually in the dining room with Jeannie and the twins. They came by for dessert. Said Bellamy’s chocolate torte was incredible.” Actually, Jeannie had said it, and the twins had agreed. Bree just pushed hers around on her plate.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on here, or am I going to have to pry?” Carly held out the finished plate of sea scallops, but didn’t let go when Gavin reached for it.

  “Nothing’s going on.” He might be coming to terms in the emotions-sharing department with Bree, but letting loose with his boss while his dinner service crashed down around him was not on his to-do list.

  Plus, all the talking in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Sloane was gone, and he should’ve known better than to think she’d stay.

  One of Carly’s shadowy brows winged skyward. “Nothing,” she repeated, looking as doubtful as she sounded as she let go of the plate.

  But Gavin didn’t budge. “No. Table thirteen, out the door.”

  The next few hours passed in a mercifully mind-numbing blur, and he went through the motions with fast feet and a heart full of broken glass. In time, he knew he’d get used to Sloane not being around—in truth, she’d spent less than two months with them, so it shouldn’t be such a daunting task. Eventually, he’d be able to walk past the guest bedroom without thinking of that first night they’d made love, urgent and beautiful against luxurious bedsheets. He’d be able to look at the fireplace and not remember how the soft light reflected in her eyes to make them sparkle when she typed furiously on her laptop. And he’d be able to look at Bree and not see the bottomless sadness on her face as she looked around the cottage and saw Sloane in every corner, too.

  Christ, it had to get better than this, because it sure as hell couldn’t get worse.

  “Hey, chef. We’re starting to wind down in the dining room. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to leave some of the paperwork for the morning and head home with Bree.” While Gavin was less than thrilled at the prospect of crossing the threshold to his empty cottage with his head full of memories, it was time to start facing the facts.

  Sloane was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. No matter how in love with her he was.

  Carly wiped her hands on her apron and fastened him with a glance. “Sure.” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder, eyes going momentarily wide before she blanked her expression again, and he turned in confusion.

  “Oh, hey, Stephanie.” Gavin looked at the bartender with a tired smile. “I’m heading out for the night, so just update your tallies before you leave. I’ll grab them in the morning.”

  The bartender split a look between Carly and Gavin before holding up a bar slip between her first two fingers. “You’re not out the door yet. Someone ordered a bottle of red that’s gonna cost big bucks. Inventory says we have one in the wine cellar, so here you go.”

  It was standard operating procedure any time an order came in for a bottle of wine costing over a hundred dollars for the manager to handle the service from cellar to glass. Given his penchant for finer vintages, this was never a rule Gavin balked at; on the contrary, it always gave him a bit of a thrill to have his hands on a bottle of something that could be so well appreciated.

  For the first time ever, he couldn’t care less.

  “Okay. What am I getting?”

  Stephanie’s eyes darted to the pass, where Carly and Adrian were suddenly busy with a round of last-minute dishes heading out the door. “Um, looks like a really pricey Bordeaux. Glad you’re opening it. Personally, those expensive bottles give me the shakes. Enjoy.”

  A really pricey Bordeaux. Wait a second . . . there were only a couple really high-end reds on their wine list. He turned the bar slip Stephanie had put in his hand. No way it could be—

  1999 Château Bellevue Mondotte.

  It was the same bottle of wine he and Sloane had impulsively enjoyed on the night of Carly’s wedding. The same bottle of wine that, given the chance, he would pick above all others.

  For a second, Gavin’s world tilted on an angle he had no hope of reconciling. Then his head snapped up to meet Carly’s clear-as-a-bell gaze.

  “Someone order a doozy?” she asked, but he clamped down on the feeling surging in his chest.

  “Just a nice bottle of red. I’ll grab it from the wine cellar. See you tomorrow.”

  Gavin made his way to the back of the kitchen, taking the steps to the wine cellar with his mind spinning. They hadn’t sold a bottle of Bellevue Mondotte in almost a year, and he’d even wondered if it made sense to replace the one he had bought that night. Except as the chief consultant for wine orders, he’d known that they should have one on-hand. It was one of the best Bordeaux in that price range. No better experience for your money.

  And apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  Gavin stopped at the dimly lit section where they housed the reds and inhaled the dry, crisp scent of wood and cork. His fingers found the grooved space where the bottle reclined, delicately notched in the resting place where he’d put it upon delivery, and he slid it from the shelf. He stuffed back the memory of the last time he’d been down here to take a bottle from this spot, and the delicious possibility he’d felt upon doing something so capricious.

  Hell of a lot of irony in how right something could feel, only to leave you picking up the pieces once it shattered in your hands.

  “Enough,” he told himself, closing his fingers over the neck of the bottle and covering the space back up to La Dolce Vita in even strides. He placed the bottle on the bar while he grabbed a wine key and two glasses, running his eyes over the crystal with quick care to make sure it was ready to go.

  “Hey. Is that a good one?” Bree asked, coming up across from him to prop her elbows on the polished mahogany bar.

  Gavin laughed, even though there was little humor in it. “You could say that. You want to watch me open it? It’s not every day you see the cork come out of a two-hundred-fifty-dollar bottle of red.”

  “Holy moly,” Bree gasped, eyeing him as if he were nuts. “Why do grown-ups do such crazy stuff?”

  Now his laugh was genuine, albeit soft. “Good question. I’m headed to the dining room with this, but after I’m done, we can go home if you want.”

  “Okay. Can I really watch you open it?”

  Gavin did a mental tally of open tables. “Sure. Table fourteen should be close enough, and it’s empty. You know the one by the fireplace in front?”

  Bree nodded. “Yeah. Just let me get my backpack from the office.”

  “Go up to the pass and ask Carly to get you through the kitchen. It’s slow enough back there now that she can help you. I’ll go talk up this customer.” He jerked his head toward the dining room. “See you in a minute.”

  With a slow exhale, Gavin looped his fingers around the delicate stems of the wineglasses and put them on a clean bar tray. The bottle was smooth and comforting in his hand as he headed through the glowing half light of La Dolce Vita’s dining room, taking in the handful of still-occupied tables and quietly chatting diners. Table sixteen was a cozy little two-top, close to the front entrance. Probably a couple celebrating a birthday or anniversary, he thought as he gave the bottle a glance.

  Maybe he’d get a little impulsive and take Bree somewhere really nice for her birthday next month, even round up the twins and take them all into
Philly for the weekend. A grin poked at the edges of his mouth despite his weary mood. He could just hear the delighted preteen squeals that would accompany that suggestion, followed by a deep, velvety belly laugh that he’d come up with such a good idea on his own . . .

  Gavin’s thoughts crashed to a halt, his grip tightening over the bottle in his hand. Damn it, he needed to figure out a better way to purge Sloane from his memory, otherwise he was never going to get over this. She’d made her decision, made it weeks ago and stuck to it despite everything between them. No matter how much he hated it, he needed to get rid of everything Sloane-related in his brain, once and for all.

  Starting right now.

  Sloane’s cell phone buzzed softly, but the vibration in her palm was nothing compared to the jackhammer of her pulse as she read the incoming text message.

  All set. 2 mins, tops. Hope u know what u r doing.

  Good luck, C.

  She released a shaky breath. She had no idea what she was doing, but it didn’t matter.

  She was tired of running away when things got tough. It was time to run back and trust that what she had to say was good enough.

  As soon as she saw Gavin, with his crisp suit and serious-as-a-tax-audit face, her heart launched against her ribs, but she sat firmly in her seat. She might not know what she was doing, but she sure as hell knew what she wanted, and it was high time she made a decision she could stand by without changing her mind.

  He looked up as he approached the table that Carly had carefully selected, stopping short a few feet away.

  “You ordered this?”

  Sloane nodded, eternally grateful she was sitting down. “I owe you a bottle. Since we never finished the first one.”

  Gavin’s eyes flashed, dark and unreadable. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. But the wine isn’t the half of it.”

  Now or never, now or never, now or . . .

  “For starters, I owe you an apology. I kept things from you, and although at the time I thought I had good reasons for it, there’s no excuse for what I did. I know that it hurt you and Bree, and I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry,” he repeated, and God, his expression was a wall of stone.

  But Sloane continued, not allowing it to throw her. “The next thing I owe you is that bottle of wine. I didn’t realize it at the time, but you taught me a really valuable lesson about slowing down. So I wanted to let you know how grateful I am by repaying the bottle you didn’t get to finish.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said again, and everything around her fluttered as she stood.

  “You’re wrong, Gavin. I owe you everything.” Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t fight them as they slipped silently down her face. “You trusted me, with Bree, with your feelings, with all of it, and you believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself. I should’ve trusted you back, but I was scared, and by the time I wasn’t scared, it was too late. But late is better than never, and I couldn’t let another minute go by without telling you that I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be anywhere other than with you and Bree. I don’t want to live my life jumping from one place to the next. I want you. All I want is . . . you.”

  Sloane’s throat closed around the last word, refusing to allow anything else past her lips, which was probably just as well. She ran a hand over her face, realizing that everyone within earshot was unabashedly staring at her. She forced herself to unfold her spine and lift her head.

  Her days of running from the tough stuff were over.

  “Anyway. I just wanted to say that.” She lowered her eyes, which only sent more tears down her face and more stares in her direction, but she was so far past caring. It was time to stick around and be accountable for her feelings rather than take off at the first sign of trouble or unease.

  Even if it broke her heart in the process.

  “You just ran up one hell of a bar tab.”

  Gavin’s words washed over her slowly, and she blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

  He held up the bottle in his hand, but didn’t take his eyes off her as he said, “This is a really expensive bottle of wine. I’m just wondering if you can afford it, since last I heard, you were unemployed.”

  Sloane’s brows slid together. “Oh. Well, actually—”

  But Gavin took a step toward her, then two, and her words faded away.

  “I might be able to solve your problem. See, I’m looking for a babysitter.” He sent a pointed glance over his shoulder, and holy crap, Bree was sitting right there at the table behind him, her brown eyes wide and tearstained.

  “As long as that’s okay with you,” Gavin said to Bree, and she looked at Sloane and nodded.

  “Yeah. That’s okay with me.”

  Sloane blinked, her lips parting in shock. “You want me back?”

  Gavin was beside her in an instant. “I believe you, Sloane, and I love you, too. I want to come home to you every night, and wake up next to you every morning. I don’t just want you back. I want you forever. What do you say?”

  “Yes. God, yes!”

  His arms felt perfect as they slid around her, and perfect got even better as Bree’s arms folded over them both. They stood there in the middle of the restaurant, tangled together and laughing like gleeful idiots until finally, Gavin pulled back with a mischievous grin.

  “Okay, big spender. Let’s open this bottle up and celebrate your homecoming, shall we?”

  Sloane’s laughter bubbled out of her, all the way from her toes. “We can celebrate more than that.”

  “We can?” Bree asked. “Like what?”

  “Let’s just say my latest proposal went over incredibly well with Belinda. She gave me the green light to write the book I’ve been working on. So it looks like I’m gainfully employed twice.”

  “I don’t think I can compete with a major publishing house,” Gavin said with a shake of his head.

  But Sloane just threw her head back and laughed. “They can’t hold a candle to you, boss. Now open up that bottle, would you? I’m ready to stir up a little trouble, one sip at a time.”

  Gavin’s Swiss Omelet Recipe

  Breakfast is a big-time meal in our house, and we often have it for dinner as well as in the morning. It’s one of those meals where even the youngest chefs in the house can take part in preparations. So when I was searching for something that Gavin, the hero in book three of the Pine Mountain series, could make with his thirteen-year-old half sister Bree, my brain immediately went the breakfast route. Gavin may not always have the right words as he raises his sister, especially as Bree goes from pigtails to puberty, but they share a bond through food, and this omelet makes several appearances in Stirring Up Trouble. Of course, they share it—and all the emotion that goes with their family—with unlikely “antinanny” Sloane Russo, too.

  Ingredients:

  2 large eggs

  2 Tablespoons milk (whole preferred)

  1 Tablespoon butter

  ¼ cup diced onion

  cup cooked ham, cubed or sliced into ribbons

  ¼ cup shredded Swiss cheese

  1 teaspoon each freshly chopped tarragon and thyme

  Extra Swiss and sprigs of thyme for garnish

  Gently whisk eggs and milk in a small bowl; set aside. In an omelet pan over medium heat, melt butter and cook onion until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes (stir often). Add ham, then cover with egg mixture. With the heat between medium and medium-high, swirl the egg mixture evenly through the pan with other ingredients distributed throughout. Use a fork to stir the mixture carefully as it cooks (eggs will begin to set up and mixture will thicken). When the mixture has set up but is still wet, add cheese and herbs. Using a spatula or your mad omelet flipping skills, flip the omelet to form a half-moon shape. Cook for another minute, then slide to a plate, garnish, and share with someone you love!

  Bree’s Best Doughnut Holes Recipe

  In Stirring Up Trouble, Gavin and his h
alf-sister Bree talk about making doughnuts. Doing this from scratch takes a lot of time and even more patience, but doughnut holes are a fantastic shortcut to a tasty treat. The only equipment you’ll need is a food-safe thermometer and heavy-bottomed stock pot, plus a wire-mesh scoop or slotted spoon for frying.

  Ingredients:

  1¼ cups all-purpose flour

  ½ cup sugar

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

  ½ teaspoon kosher salt

  1 egg

  ½ cup milk

  2 Tablespoons butter, room temperature at least

  Enough canola oil to measure 3 inches deep in your pot / fry vessel

  Combine dry ingredients, through salt, in a large bowl (preferably with a stand mixer). Add egg, milk and butter until all ingredients are well combined but not over-mixed (think doughnuts . . . not doorstops!). Heat oil in stock pot over medium heat until a food-safe thermometer registers 375. This is tricky—you may need to adjust as you go, but that is okay. Carefully drop rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into the oil (only 6 at a time maximum to avoid crowding). Cook one minute, then flip with a slotted spoon or wire-mesh scoop. Cook one additional minute, then remove the dough from the oil. Place cooked doughnut holes on a paper towel to remove excess oil.

  Toppings for these can vary. Gavin and Bree do glazed, which is easy to make with milk and powdered sugar. Start with a cup of powdered sugar, and add just enough milk until you reach your desired consistency. Adding sprinkles to these is fun for the younger set too. But I am a sucker for cinnamon and sugar topping, which can be made by combining ½ cup sugar with 1 teaspoon cinnamon (double as necessary) and stirring well. Place in a shallow bowl, and roll just-cooled doughnut holes in the mixture. There won’t be leftovers. Promise!