by Andrea Thome
ALSO BY ANDREA THOME
THE HESSE CREEK SERIES
Walland
Seeds of Intention
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2018 Andrea Thome
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Hesse Creek Media, Chicago
www.andreathome.com
Edited and Designed by Girl Friday Productions
www.girlfridayproductions.com
Editorial: Stefanie Hargreaves, Michelle Hope Anderson
Interior Design: Rachel Marek
Cover Design: Paul Barrett
Image Credits: Cover photographs © Andrea Thome
ISBN-13: 978-0-9978504-4-4
e-ISBN: 978-0-9978504-9-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017919827
First Edition
Printed in the United States of America
“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”
—Jane Austen
For my friends. You’re the second family I’ve created for myself, and I adore you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
CHAPTER
ONE
She’d sworn she wouldn’t look, but when the moment arrived, Laina Ming couldn’t help herself.
It felt like intruding on something she had no business witnessing, but Laina was confident she wasn’t the only one who felt like an interloper that day because of the way his emotions were so plainly and openly etched across his face. The groom’s expression had run the gamut from carefree to nervous, to the look he wore now as his gaze finally settled on his bride. Laina felt a tightness in her throat as she watched from her seat. He was so dashing in his shirt and bow tie, with trousers held up by suspenders, a dusting of russet whiskers covering his face. But it was the raw emotion behind his smile that caused Laina to swallow hard in an effort to rid herself of the lump in her throat.
She turned her attention toward the object of the man’s affection. The bride’s tall, slender frame was draped elegantly in the most perfect strapless pale-yellow dress with an attached lace collar that accentuated her collarbone. A mane of chestnut-colored hair floated gently in the breeze behind her. She wore a crown of tiny white flowers, and as she drew closer, Laina could see tears rolling down her cheeks, in contrast to the brilliant smile on her face.
Everyone gathered that evening at Walland House in Aspen, Colorado, was enchanted. They knew what Laina had come to learn over the past year. Willow Armstrong and Garrett Oliver were kindred spirits, and two of the most likable people you’d ever want to meet. It was impossible not to root for this couple’s happiness.
Laina had met them both the previous summer, thanks to an introduction by India and Wyatt Hinch, mutual acquaintances who were visiting from Tennessee. Laina had only been living in Aspen for a few months at that time, and had literally bumped into India coming out of a yoga class downtown one morning. They’d met a few years before when Laina had been a guest chef at the resort in Tennessee where India and Wyatt still lived and worked. They hadn’t really kept in touch, though, so they were delighted to have run into each other so unexpectedly in Aspen. Before she knew it, Laina had agreed to cater the upcoming wedding of India’s dear friends and coworkers.
The music ended, and Willow was standing next to Garrett at the edge of the forest, their hands clasped together. The energy between them was palpable as they stood surrounded by the glow of twinkle lights that tightly wrapped the trunk of the old oak tree serving as their altar. It was no surprise to anyone when Garrett leaned over immediately for a soft kiss, drawing an admonishment from the minister.
“Who gives this woman in marriage to this impatient young man?” Finn winked at Garrett, glad for the moment of levity. The old farmer needed the opportunity to get a handle on his own emotions. He’d been stunned when they’d asked him to officiate their wedding, and even wondered if they’d been kidding. Garrett had come to feel like a second son to Finn, and was something of a brother to Finn’s own adopted son, Wyatt. Finn’s wife, Susan, had helped him become a minister online, and now here he was, a bona fide preacher man.
Finn raised his eyebrows expectantly at Wyatt, waiting for an answer to his question before he moved on.
“I do,” said Wyatt, clasping Garrett on the shoulder and giving Willow a kiss on the cheek before stepping to the side to stand in line with the only other groomsman.
Wyatt glanced across the altar at his own wife, who was standing up for Willow, along with their good friend Violet. Both women had tears in their eyes, and the expression on India’s face reminded Wyatt once again why he was so grateful she was his partner in life.
Laina watched the exchange between them, trying to ignore the feeling of envy that bubbled up every time she was around these people. Shaking her head slightly in an effort to clear the unwelcome thought, her eyes shifted inadvertently to the other groomsman standing next to Wyatt. He was the only one in the entire congregation who wasn’t focused on the bride and groom.
Instead, he was staring right back at Laina, with a corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile.
Damn.
Laina knew he’d be there; after all, Logan Matthews was Willow’s brother. She’d met Logan before she’d met Willow and Garrett, both introductions made by the hand of India. Their first encounter had been during the Food and Wine Classic the previous summer, after Laina had finished up her presentation on the kitchen garden. It had been obvious to Laina that India thought she and Logan would be a good match, but Laina had made it clear to Logan on several occasions since that she wasn’t interested, despite his continued attempts at flirting with her.
Laina had come to Aspen to begin again after abruptly ending an unhealthy relationship. The last thing she’d wanted was to wing walk into another situation like the one she’d left behind in New York. She recognized a charmer when she saw one, and she’d had enough of that type of man to last her a lifetime. It occurred to her that Logan was doing it again now, and it was unsettling. Enough so that she felt herself involuntarily frown at him before she could resist. She lowered her gaze, paying her program more attention than it deserved, but not before she’d registered his response.
Is he laughing at me? Why did I give him the pleasure of a reaction at all?
Laina was certain Logan wasn’t used to being ignored, but that was exactly what she’d done whenever she’d seen him in town over the past year, and it’s what she planned to do again that night. If she could just get through the reception, she knew she’d be much too preo
ccupied in the coming weeks and months to give him another thought. Besides, Laina was aware that Logan’s job at Walland House was time-consuming and would keep him out of her chili, literally and figuratively.
Willow and Garrett had informed her that their new resort, Walland House, had been so well received that they were forgoing their honeymoon until late October. That signaled the start of the shoulder season, which began at the end of autumn and lasted for the few quiet weeks before the popular ski season kicked off around Thanksgiving. Besides, the Aspen Food and Wine Classic was just a couple of weeks away, and they were all entering their busiest time of the year as a result. The Classic was the largest and most prestigious of its kind, a huge draw for the Aspen Valley each summer. Hordes of foodies showed up to mix and mingle with the top names in the food and wine industry. There wasn’t much time to think about anything else during the hectic June weekend.
Laina was shaken from her thoughts by a murmur from the young woman seated next to her.
“Isn’t he adorable? How that man has managed to remain single is beyond me.” The petite blonde gave her a sidelong glance before continuing. “Maybe by the end of the night he won’t be. Rumor has it—he didn’t bring a date.”
Laina followed the woman’s gaze straight back to Logan, who was now watching as the bride and groom sealed their vows with a kiss. He was still wearing the same lopsided grin, however, almost as if he could feel Laina’s eyes on him.
Before Laina could answer the woman, everyone rose to their feet to cheer the bride and groom as they made their way back down the aisle, hand in hand. The sun had set, casting a warm glow over the wedding guests as they spilled out of the rows of white wooden folding chairs and headed for the crushed gravel path that would lead them to the reception area. A dance floor was set up nearby, next to the aspen grove that separated the resort from Willow and Garrett’s own property next door.
Dinner would take place just steps from the main lodge of Walland House, where Laina’s staff had been busy during the ceremony putting the final touches on trays of appetizers. Even now, servers dressed in dark denim pants and gingham shirts headed out the door, silver trays in hand.
Laina could hear the music starting up as she stepped into the kitchen, and she glanced out the window as she slipped into her chef’s jacket. She smiled when she saw Violet’s husband, Rex, on the steel guitar, kicking the evening off with a bluegrass rendition of a popular wedding song by Train. She was happy to see that guests were helping themselves to the drinks being offered out of the back of two vintage pickup trucks parked near the clearing. One held galvanized buckets of beer and wine nestled in ice while the other had everything needed to make mixed drinks in little glass mason jars.
The wedding celebration continued, and the edible creations that spilled forth from the kitchen were absolute showstoppers. Laina had just put the finishing touches on the nests of chocolate egg truffles that would go home with guests after the reception when she felt a playful slap on her rear end. “I can’t believe you pulled it off.”
Donovan Laird was Laina’s sous-chef and best friend. They’d met years ago at the Natural Gourmet Institute in New York where they’d both been students, and after an awkward attempt at dating, they’d been brutally honest with each other about their lack of chemistry. They’d been two peas in a pod ever since. Van was six years older than Laina, and he’d always been a stabilizing force in her life, despite remaining a bit of a mystery. He didn’t share much about his family, but that was OK with Laina. He’d become her confidant and closest friend over the years, and she trusted Van with her life. Laina couldn’t imagine having anyone else by her side, especially as she prepared to open her new restaurant in Aspen.
Convincing Van to move to Colorado with her hadn’t been hard. He’d recently broken up with a girlfriend and had been looking for a reason to do the same with a particularly temperamental chef he was no longer inspired to work for. Van was an excellent chef, even though he’d started his culinary career later than most. Still, Laina wondered sometimes if his heart was truly in it. She hoped that this new opportunity in Aspen would provide him the creative freedom she knew he’d always craved.
Laina smiled at her dear friend, wiping the chocolate- avocado mousse left on her hands with a nearby dish towel before unbuttoning her chef’s coat and shrugging out of it to reveal the simple black dress she’d worn to the wedding.
“Come on, Van, you doubted me? You know better than to do that.” Laina kissed him on his whiskered cheek, and was rewarded with a dimpled smile. Van was one of the most handsome men Laina had ever met, and his faint Scottish accent was the clincher. It was a minor miracle that he had maintained such a total lack of self-awareness for someone so good-looking. Even tonight, in his own black chef’s jacket, and with his lucky bandanna wrapped around his forehead, he was striking. His hard work alongside Laina and the rest of the kitchen crew over the last fourteen hours had done nothing to diminish that fact. Laina hadn’t been surprised at all by the number of female guests who’d stopped by the kitchen to catch a glimpse of her captivating friend at work.
Van leaned his large frame against the counter now, handing her a brew that he’d swiped from the Sub-Zero refrigerator as they watched the rest of their team clean up the remaining pots and pans. Laina and Van clinked bottles, each of them taking a long drag from their icy-cold beers. They could hear the laughter and music as guests enjoyed the post-dinner dancing and drinks, the alcohol having loosened everyone up just enough to consider themselves excellent dancers.
Van bumped Laina with his hip to get her attention and pushed away from the counter, unbuttoning his coat and slipping it off to reveal his usual all-black work ensemble of a T-shirt and jeans.
“Come on. They’ve got this covered.” He gestured toward the rest of their young staff, busy tidying up the kitchen. “You know full well that India will come looking for you if you don’t get out there and enjoy a little bit of this party. You promised her you would, and I promised her I’d make you.”
Van finished off his beer in one long swallow, setting the bottle down with a thud on the counter next to Laina. Ignoring the protest in her eyes, he nodded toward the beer in her hand. “You’d better finish that if you’re planning to, because we’re hitting the dance floor.”
Outside, the party was in full swing. The evening was warm for early summer, and the dance floor was hopping. The band had finished up a while ago, and now the tunes were cranking thanks to the DJ who had been hired for the latenight crowd.
India’s husband, Wyatt, was headed toward the house when he saw Laina and Van emerge from the kitchen. “You’ve got good timing. My wife just sent me in after the two of you. I’m glad I won’t be returning empty-handed.”
The trio chatted for a few moments about the rave reviews guests had given the food and the impending opening of Laina’s new restaurant. But when the conversation shifted to the NBA playoffs, Laina saw her opportunity to escape, and she quietly slipped away while the men talked.
The setting was pure magic. Hundreds of icicle lights hung from the tree branches overhead, and tables held flickering lanterns surrounded by mason jars overflowing with delicate flowers.
This wedding was Willow and Garrett personified. Laina watched for a moment as the couple danced together to an upbeat Bruno Mars song. She couldn’t help but grin when Garrett picked his bride up and swung her around before letting her slide slowly down into his embrace for a kiss that made their friends blush.
Laina turned to fix herself a vodka and soda, and as she was squeezing a lemon wedge she felt someone ease up next to her. She knew who it was before she turned to face him.
“You know, you really should open a restaurant. That was some dinner you served up tonight.” Logan smiled at her, that same cheeky look he’d given her during the ceremony. “Just a shame you weren’t out here to enjoy it with us.”
He reached around her to grab the bottle of vodka to make himself a drink, br
ushing up against her ever so slightly in the process. The effect was as if someone had run a feather across her bare neck and shoulders, and Laina involuntarily shivered at the intrusion of her personal space.
Logan noticed her stiffen, and he stifled a smile. “Sorry, I just figured I’d need something a little stronger if I was going to get up the courage to ask you to dance. I mean, a guy can only handle so much rejection from one person, so go easy on me if the answer is no.”
He’d added ice cubes and a splash of Pellegrino to the vodka in his glass while he spoke, and now he was stirring his drink and trying to gauge her response to his offer while he did so. This was the closest he’d been to her in weeks, so he took the opportunity to study her while he awaited her answer.
Logan felt that, with her flawless skin and jet-black hair, Laina was the most exotic woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her last name spoke of an Asian heritage, but he knew from a quick Google search that she had Italian roots too. He didn’t think she looked like she belonged to either ethnicity. No, she was definitely one of a kind. She studied him curiously with eyes that were somewhere between brown and green. He couldn’t decide which.
“Here you are. I knew you’d try to wriggle away when I turned my back.” Van had sidled up next to Laina, sliding his left arm around her waist protectively. He reached for a sip of her drink before handing it back to her with a wink.
Laina watched in amusement as Logan’s face fell just for a moment before he regained his composure.
Van wasn’t through with him yet. “Who’s this, Laina?” He looked squarely at Logan. “Friend of the bride or groom?”
Logan steeled himself with a sip of his drink before extending his right hand in greeting. “Logan Matthews. I’m a friend to both actually, but I’m also the brother of the bride. And you are . . . ?”
Logan knew exactly who this man was. Chef Donovan Laird had been the talk of his dinner table, at least among the ladies, but Logan wasn’t going to give the man the pleasure of divulging that awareness. He’d heard his sister and India giggling about the handsome Scot and pondering whether there was anything going on between him and their mysterious girlfriend. Apparently, there was.