by Andrea Thome
Van just laughed, extending his own hand to meet Logan’s. “I’m Van. Nice to meet you. Your sister and brother-in-law are good people.”
Van turned his attention back to Laina. “Now, you promised me a dance, lass, and a dance we’ll have.”
He nodded at Logan, who mumbled something unintelligible as Van ushered Laina out toward the pulsating mob of revelers. They hit the floor in time for an Ed Sheeran song that Laina loved, so they jumped right in.
Laina leaned forward to shout over the music into Van’s ear. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” She pulled back to watch the grin bloom across Van’s handsome face, and there was her answer.
He moved closer to respond. “I predicted that coming a mile away. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I know you’ve been doing your best to get him to bugger off since last summer. So I thought I’d help drive the point home.”
They laughed together, enjoying the freedom of cutting loose after such a long and stressful night of cooking. From all outward appearances, anyone would have thought they were a couple, thanks to their comfortable way with each other.
Logan was still watching from the edge of the dance floor, wondering how he’d read her so wrong. He knew Laina had been doing her best to avoid him, but he also thought he’d felt chemistry when she’d caught him staring at her during the ceremony. He hadn’t been able to help himself.
No one had ever captured his attention the way Laina had. Sure, the thrill of the chase was exciting, but he’d been intrigued by something else about her from day one.
Now, as she danced with abandon, her eyes closed and arms up over her head, he thought she was more beautiful than ever. Her dark hair was cut into an edgy midlength style that perfectly framed her chiseled features.
As she swayed to the beat, her hair swept across her face, inciting Logan to curse under his breath: Damned Scottish accent; it wasn’t that cool.
Laina was fully aware that Logan was still watching her, and she was mildly annoyed with herself for feeling pleased by his attention. She was about to tell Van that she felt bad for torturing the poor guy when she saw the blonde who’d been admiring Logan during the ceremony glide up next to him and start flirting. Before long, Logan took the woman’s hand and led her to the dance floor, just as the music slowed down. When Laina saw him draw the woman up against his chest, it wasn’t relief that she felt.
Grabbing Van by the hand, she steered him back toward the lodge kitchen, ready to wrap things up for the night and put this reception behind her. She intended to focus on why she’d come to Aspen in the first place. She had a restaurant to open and a new chapter of her life to begin. There was no time for distractions.
CHAPTER
TWO
It was well past midnight by the time they had finished packing up all their equipment. Laina made sure the staff had been paid, and Van had already left to drop their equipment back at the restaurant before heading home for the night. Laina was about to shut the lights off in the kitchen when the bride and groom surprised her by rounding the corner. Willow was barefoot and had the bottom of her dress tossed over one arm, her other hand joined with Garrett’s.
“Oh, Laina! Thank God you’re still here. Everything was amazing. Thank you for helping to make our reception so special.” She paused, biting her lip. “There’s just one thing; we must have burned so many calories dancing—we’re starving! Is there anything left we can grab to take home with us?” She grinned up at her husband’s adoring face. “We were hoping for a carpet picnic in front of the fire before we call it a night.
It’s sort of our thing.”
Laina laughed and turned back toward the refrigerator to remove a stack of Tupperware filled with leftovers that she’d stashed inside earlier. Placing the containers on the counter in front of the newlyweds, she couldn’t help basking in their glow for a moment. “I don’t think my food made much difference, but I appreciate the compliment. It was a beautiful night, and you two deserve every bit of happiness. I’m honored to have been a small part of your story.”
Willow stepped forward to give Laina a quick hug. “I’m glad to see you managed to have a good time while you were at it.” Pausing, she smiled shyly. “Van seems like a lot of fun. I’m sure it was nice to have him here . . . working with you.”
Laina could tell that Willow was fishing for information about her status with Van, and she was about to fess up when she thought better of it. Willow was Logan’s sister. Better to be vague. “Van’s great. I couldn’t have done it without him. We’ve known each other for a really long time, which makes it easy to be together.”
It was the truth, even if it was a little misleading.
They chatted for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes. Once Willow and Garrett had gone, Laina grabbed her backpack and the velvet bag that contained her knife set, then turned out the lights and locked the door on her way out. She never left anyone else in charge of her Japanese steel knives, even Van. They were her prized possession, and she felt naked without them.
The air was pleasantly cool out on the porch, and she paused for a moment to savor the quiet. There was nothing quite like a Rocky Mountain evening, particularly out here, away from town. She was still adjusting to it, after having spent the better part of the last decade in New York City. It had taken her months to get used to falling asleep without the bleating horns of the taxis and other city chatter outside her window. These days, the only sounds she heard as she drifted off at night were the crickets and the frogs. And the white noise emitting from the little machine on her dresser. Old habits died hard.
Laina smiled at the scene before her, the trees still dripping with twinkle lights that no one had bothered to turn off. It really was like a scene from a movie. She was about to walk to her car when a noise from the other side of the clearing stopped her cold. She shrank back into the shadows of the porch to get a better look.
Logan had tried not to lead Kiera on, but the woman didn’t seem to be too good at reading signals. Sure, it had been nice to have the distraction after his most recent rejection by Laina, and Kiera had been lots of fun out on the dance floor. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist, though, and, consequently, Logan had been ready to call it a night hours ago. He was still smarting a bit from having to watch Laina with Van, who, much to Logan’s displeasure, appeared to be the most charismatic man in the universe. Unfortunately, Kiera had cornered him, and before he’d known it, they were the last two guests left at the reception. He’d waited patiently with her for her Uber to arrive, which had mercifully just pulled up the driveway to collect her.
Logan opened the car door to usher Kiera inside when she surprised him by stepping closer to him, throwing her arms around his neck, and planting a kiss full of longing and invitation on him. He would have pulled away, but he was acutely aware that Laina had just appeared on the front porch, and from the way she’d stayed hidden in the shadows of the eaves, it was clear that she didn’t want him to know she was there.
Logan allowed himself the indulgence of enjoying Kiera’s attention, just long enough to needle Laina a bit, and to confirm what he’d already known. There wasn’t any chemistry with Kiera, at least as far as he was concerned. Laina didn’t need to know that, though, so he took his time exploring Kiera’s eager mouth. He finally broke the kiss after a few moments before saying good night. Kiera looked sweetly at him, still blissfully unaware that he didn’t return her affections.
Logan hated himself a little for misleading her, so he inwardly promised that, spark or not, he’d take Kiera out to dinner sometime as penance. The Uber pulled away, leaving Logan standing alone in the yard. He watched from the darkness as Laina rushed silently off the porch in the opposite direction and emerged into the clearing where she’d parked her own car. As the engine purred to life, he marveled once again at this woman who’d managed to captivate him so completely. Why is she leaving alone instead of with the Scot? And what kind of girl drives a car like that? He w
atched the fading taillights of her vintage Alfa Romeo Spider as they wound down the lane and out of sight. Logan knew one thing. He wasn’t finished trying to find out the answers to those questions and a whole lot of others.
It was probably too cold to have the top down, but Laina had wanted to get the hell out of there before Logan realized it was her. She shivered now as her small car flew across the winding pavement of Maroon Creek Road, the intoxicating smell from the surrounding canopy of pine trees filling her senses as she made her way back down the hill toward town.
She didn’t understand why it had bothered her to see Logan with another woman. She wasn’t interested in him. She didn’t have the time or energy necessary to get to know a man like that. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him with other women either. He was one of the most eligible men in town, after all, and she’d heard rumors that he’d dated his way through a good sampling of the local single women. The way he’d flirted with her again tonight, she wasn’t surprised than none of those relationships had stuck.
Damn it, though, he does have charisma.
For a moment, before Van had joined them, she’d almost considered taking him up on his offer to dance. She shivered, remembering her desire to know what he smelled like. Reflecting on that carelessness now, she wondered what had gotten into her. She had enough to worry about. Her restaurant was set to open, and the Food and Wine Classic was hot on the heels of that.
Blowing out a breath, she forced herself to go over the mental checklist that was omnipresent in her thoughts these days. Tomorrow was Sunday, but that didn’t mean she’d be resting. Van had agreed to meet her at nine, which meant little sleep tonight as the finalized bar order needed to be completed so everything would be stocked and ready for their debut and the start of the Classic.
Laina had opened restaurants before, both of them in New York, but neither of them was as important to her as this place. In the early days of her career, it had been all about the food. The dishes she created were nothing short of exquisite. She’d busted her tail right out of culinary school, single- mindedly working to become one of just a handful of female chefs to eventually earn two Michelin stars. When it finally happened, though, Laina was so stressed out, she was too numb to be able to enjoy the accolades. Of course her personal life had been spiraling out of control at the very same time too, but she couldn’t be reminded of that right now.
Nothing was going to steal her bliss. She was living in the moment, and if her move to the mountains and the countless hours she’d spent building her yoga practice had taught her anything, it was to stay present. This restaurant would be different. She would bare her soul in a way she’d never known she’d always wanted. The concept was an exploration of detachment: from the decor, to the menu, to the food and the way in which it would be served. Laina and Van wouldn’t be the only executive chefs in residence either. She had big plans for that aspect of the place. She would never again be beholden to investors and their predictable ideas. It didn’t have to make sense to anyone else. It made sense to her. The concept could change every evening if she wanted it to. It felt really good to be doing something entirely her way for a change.
The gravel crunched under her tires as she pulled the car into her driveway and put it in park. She still smiled every time she came home. The small farmhouse hadn’t been much to look at when she’d first seen it, but it sat on enough land for her to be able to have her own kitchen garden, and she’d had plenty of vision left to convince herself to sign on the dotted line. Because she’d been smart about the sale of her first two restaurants, she also had plenty of money left over with which to get the neglected old house up to snuff. She’d spent hours painting it inside and out, and sanded the floors back to life until they looked better than they ever had, at least according to her real estate agent, who’d already sold the property two previous times.
Laina had chosen to splurge and go fully retro in the kitchen, including black-and-white-checkered flooring and a massive Big Chill refrigerator in a color called “Pink Lemonade.” This house suited her. It was quirky and fun, and it always thrilled her to walk past the suspended porch swing and her hanging ferns to open the wooden Dutch front door.
She flipped the light switch and laughed at the sight staring back at her from the foyer mirror. Her hair looked like she’d run it through with a blender, and her eyeliner was smudged at the outside corners from when she’d teared up during the chilly ride home. Another perk of living alone. She could look as terrible as she wanted to, and no one would be the wiser.
She tossed her shoes onto the bench at the foot of the stairs and bent to pick up the pile of mail that was scattered on the floor under the slot in the front door. It was mostly contractor bills, with a couple of trade magazines mixed in, but there was one letter that caught her attention. It was postmarked New York, but there was no return address on the envelope. Laina lumped it all together, the letter on top, and made her way down the hall to the kitchen. After setting the entire pile on the table, she filled her teapot with water and lit the stove to boil it, then sliced a lemon in half, squeezing the juice into her empty mug to wait.
She had a bad feeling about the letter. She’d left New York with virtually no strings attached, and she couldn’t imagine how anyone had tracked her down to send a note through snail mail. She kept in touch with friends and colleagues mostly through text and e-mail these days, enjoying the peace and quiet of the new life she’d created for herself.
The whistle of the kettle brought her back, and she grabbed the handle with a hot pad, pouring the bubbling water over the lemon juice. She warmed her hands on the mug, letting the steam drift up and around her face before taking a sip. She should wait until morning to read the letter. It had been such a great day, and the wedding reception had been a huge success. It would be a shame to ruin her natural high.
Staring at the envelope for a moment longer, she decided she’d never sleep for wondering, so, setting the mug back down, she grabbed the letter and slid her finger under the flap to tear it open. As she unfolded the paper inside, a scrap of newspaper fluttered to the floor before she could catch it. She picked it up and scanned the contents of the article. Grasping the edge of the table as she read, her knees almost buckled underneath her. Both papers slipped from her hand and came to rest on the floor in front of the fridge. Laina barely made it around the corner and into the powder room before vomiting up the entire contents of her stomach.
Van had been knocking loudly, surprised that Laina had slept in so late. She was normally an early riser, which was unusual for a chef, but then she was an unusual woman. Her car was parked in the driveway, so she’d obviously made it home safely the night before. Van turned back down off the porch, trying to figure out which window might be unlocked, when he noticed her off in the distance. She’d been out for a run, which wasn’t uncommon, but with the long day and late night they’d had, Van was impressed she’d found the energy to rip off her daily five-miler. She lived across from the North Star Nature Preserve, so she had miles of trails at her disposal. As she drew closer to Van, she slowed her gait, stopping just short of where he stood, bending in half to stretch her lower back and hamstrings.
“Morning, sunshine. Someone’s up with the roosters.” Van waited for her to respond, but she just stayed that way, bent in half, taking deep breaths in and out while she stretched. Finally, she rose, looking more beautiful than anyone should after exercise. Van shook his head, perplexed by her sour demeanor.
“Tough run, lass?” Van studied his friend, aware that she had something on her mind. He didn’t press her, though. He knew better. If she wanted to talk, she would. If not now, she would when she was ready.
Laina reached into her car, grabbing a water bottle she’d stashed there in the cup holder on the way out. Taking a long drink, she felt her heartbeat start to return to normal, grateful for the gift of exercise. She’d managed to scrape herself up off the bathroom floor the night before, and after rea
ding and rereading the article and letter, she’d folded both back up and stuck them inside the drawer next to the fridge until she could manage to process the information. She wasn’t ready to talk about it with Van, though, or anyone else, for that matter, so she’d forced herself to go for a run to clear her head, as she often did. Five miles later, she wasn’t exactly good as new, but at least she could cope now in a way she wasn’t capable of just an hour ago.
“We’ve got a lot to accomplish today. I guess I’m just starting to feel the pressure a bit. Figured a run might help me get my thoughts together, and it worked. Come on. I’m ready to get the bar stocked. At least on paper.”
They spent the next couple of hours on her front porch swing going over the vodkas, gins, tequilas, bourbons, and whiskeys they’d be carrying, along with a few specialty beverages for nondrinkers, including a locally brewed kombucha. There was a lot of information, and it required plenty of backand-forth to make sure they had everything covered. Only once they’d closed the book on the needs of the bar was Laina able to relax a bit. Rolling her neck around, she reached her arms up over her head for a much-needed stretch, but instead of feeling relief, the bottled emotions unexpectedly bubbled up, manifesting in a sob that escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Van had been gathering up their paperwork, preparing to leave when the sound caught his attention, his gaze snapping back to Laina. There was a moment when it seemed like the world stood still, with no air flowing at all. Finally, Laina removed the hand she’d clapped over her mouth to utter in a choked voice the name that she’d sworn she’d never speak again.
“It’s Patrick.”