Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3)

by Tracey Alvarez

  She stared at him, her beautiful face for once devoid of emotion. He’d no idea what thoughts—homicidal or otherwise—flickered through her brain. Strands of her hair had slipped out of her mussed-up ponytail, and as he moved to sit on a breakfast bar stool, a few drips of batter splattered out of the bowl and dotted across her tight-fitting tank top. He’d spotted her chef’s jacket dumped on a dining room chair when he first entered the kitchen.

  Brushing her forearm over her brow, Shaye broke eye contact and continued to stir.

  “You planning to dump cake batter on me, cupcake?”

  Her head whipped around, the bland expression evaporating into a now I’m gonna gut you with my paring knife glare. She jabbed the wooden spoon handle in his direction. “You. Don’t get to call me that again. Ever.”

  Yeah, he’d figured after the nickname slipped from his lips that he’d just thrown gasoline over the situation. His bad. Del folded his arms and leaned on the counter. “I’m so sorry, baby, and I can explain—”

  Shaye snorted. “Spare me your pathetic guy explanations for why you acted like such a butthead.”

  “I was told to act like a butthead.”

  “You had to act, you vain, lily-livered, half-witted pig’s bladder of a man?” She dumped the bowl on the counter and spun around to grab a paper-lined cake pan off the opposite one.

  His heart lurched, the corner of his mouth twitching in an effort not to smile. Good God, he was crazy about this woman—ass-over-teakettle, as his dad would say—and totally, royally screwed.

  Del propped his chin on the heels of his palms. “Since you’ve ramped up the Harland temper, let me have it. I can take it.”

  She tipped the mixing bowl, the creamy golden batter pouring into the cake pan. Scraping out the last of the mixture with a spatula, she stared at him, her hazel eyes shooting fire. “No. You’ve taken enough from me.” In contrast to her fiery gaze, her voice was corpse cold, freezing her temper into icy shards. “You took my trust and my reputation and fucked it over like a cheap hook-up. You think I’ll yell at you for a bit then forgive you. You’re counting on my tendency to mediate and smooth things over, so you don’t have to feel bad.”

  Dammit, she’d nailed him by the balls. “Shaye. You haven’t really been fired; it’s just for the show.”

  “Henry’s idea?”

  “Yes! Of course it was Henry’s idea. Jesus.” Thank God she understood. Yet the way she scraped out the bowl with stiff, jerky swipes…“You know I think you’re a fucking brilliant chef.” His voice softened at the sight of her pinched mouth and shiny eyes. “We’re good together, Shaye, in the kitchen and out of it.”

  She placed the empty bowl in the sink. “Why did you throw me under the bus?”

  It all sounded so sordid and selfish now. “Henry threatened to pull the plug on production here, to set his lawyers on me, Dad, and West if I didn’t cooperate. They would’ve sued Due South for breach of contract.”

  Her eyes widened. “Holy crap.”

  “You’ve no idea what a pile of dog shit I felt like having to do that to you today. Yelling at you, goddamn firing you in front of everyone—fuck.” The devastated look in Shaye’s eyes when she’d called him chef…totally did his head in. “I just wanted to rip Henry’s smug face off. I really am sorry, Shaye.”

  The murderous expression on her face softened to slightly homicidal. “That jacked up, scummy little bastard would’ve ruined your reputation and crushed Due South in one fell swoop if you’d refused.”

  “I couldn’t risk him going after Dad and West. As to my reputation…”

  His heart kicked into high gear, pounding so hard, colors suddenly seemed unnaturally bright. Tell her now, you sonofabitch, while you’ve got the chance. Tell her how you’re her worst nightmare of a man. A guy tiptoeing along the razor blade edge between recreational binge drinker and alcoholic.

  Wasn’t as if she could be any less disappointed in him.

  “Well, in LA, my reputation’s already ruined, at least amongst the top restaurants.” He stood up and edged around the counter as Shaye blasted water into the mixing bowl. One false move and she’d aim the nozzle in his direction.

  She dropped the sprayer into the sink and turned to him. “Because of Jessica and her dad?”

  “Yeah. Gossip travels fast in this industry.” Del shook his head, bracing his spine, his stomach churning over and over.

  He couldn’t do it, just couldn’t lay his heart bare. His goddamned pride at admitting how much he’d fallen apart jammed in his throat.

  Then holy hell, Shaye wrapped her arms around him, hugging him so tightly his emotion-constricted lungs couldn’t wheeze in another breath. Strands of her hair, flying loose from her ponytail, tickled his nose. Warm and soft and strong, she pressed her body to his, the feel of her in his arms both his deliverance and punishment. After her initial pity, which goddamn it, he didn’t want, she’d pull away in disgust.

  “Rock, hard-place, and you stuck in the middle.” Her lips moved against his chest. “You couldn’t let Henry go after Bill and Due South.”

  He froze, his hands, which had slid around her shoulders, gripping the thin straps of her top. “I’m not one of the good guys, Shaye. What I did to you today proves it.”

  She pulled away from him enough to meet his eyes. “You had a jerk relapse, and you are a good guy, you big dumb-ass. But you should’ve told me what was going on. I would’ve understood.”

  “Yeah. In hindsight, I should’ve—even though you know your acting sucks.” He smoothed a hand over her hair.

  She unwrapped her arms from his waist, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not that bad.”

  “You kinda are.” Though damned if he knew why he was tempting her to get mad again. Somehow, her temper was easier to bear than Shaye defending him against himself. Easier if she kept her soft little heart out of his clumsy hands. He didn’t want to hurt the one person who appeared to see the real him; but hell, after he stepped on the ferry one final time, he would.

  “Look, Shaye, once the filming’s done, things’ll get back to normal. You’ll return to work in Due South, and as head chef—which is what you’ve always wanted, right?”

  Her chin lifted. “Right.”

  “I’ll speak to West about advertising for another chef, and I’ll help with the interview process when he comes home from his honeymoon.”

  “You’ll still be here?”

  “Henry says the finalists won’t be notified for about three weeks. Plenty of time to set you up.”

  “And if you make it to the finals, you’ll fly to London,” she said dully. “To work with a man I know you don’t like.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think of him personally. No chef would be stupid enough to turn down the opportunity to work in one of Ethan’s restaurants.”

  “Because it’s all about the adrenaline rush of working in a flashy kitchen.”

  The bitterness in her voice rankled.

  “Don’t bust my balls for wanting something more than Friday night pizza and Sunday roasts for the geriatrics. I like the buzz, the challenge of being driven to be the best, the never-ending opportunities to learn. You’ve never experienced the rush; your wings have been clipped by lack of ambition and your loyalty to this island.”

  Shaye backed away from him. “My loyalty has been to my family and to your father—they mean more to me than ambition. People are more important, Del, something I seemed to have learned on this goddamn island.”

  “It’s not disloyal to put yourself first once in a while.”

  “But is it right to ignore someone’s pain when you can help them?” She folded her arms and stared him down.

  He cleared his throat. “Ah, yeah. About the whole kidney thing…”

  She cocked her head. “You’ve made a decision?”

  “I’ve been talking to the doctors. They can do the transplant laparoscopically, so I could be out of the hospital in two days and return to work between one to three w
eeks. I can fly from London to New Zealand and then be on a plane home within a week.”

  “Wow. Sounds as if you’ve got it all worked out.” She gave him a tight smile, but her eyes remained cool. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have baking to do.” She snatched up the cake pan.

  Hang on—didn’t she hear him say he’d hack out a kidney for his father? “Are you dismissing me?”

  She cranked open the oven, and a gust of super-heated air blasted out. She flicked him an icy glance over her shoulder. “I’m telling you to get the hell out of my kitchen.”

  Shaye Harland was the most frustrating, conflicting, irritating, baffling woman he’d ever met. Del threw up his hands and stalked to the door. He opened it and stepped into the hallway.

  Then, through the doorway, he said, “Guess this means you won’t be my date for the wedding?”

  He managed to slam the door shut before the spatula hit the frame where his head had been moments before. That would be a no, then.

  Chapter 19

  Shaye’s mouth hurt. She blamed the fake “happy bridesmaid” smile. Her eyes stung. She blamed that on almost jabbing her eye out with a mascara wand. Her body hurt. Blame the Spanx, because screw it, she was gonna be the hottest wedding date Ethan Ward had ever had.

  And the ache in her chest every time she glimpsed Piper looking so beautiful in her wedding dress? Totally indigestion from the cake and cookies she’d snarfed down instead of lunch. Nothing to do with the fact she hadn’t spoken to Del since he’d fired her. Or that she’d sucked up the last of her pride and asked Ethan to be her plus one—because like hell would she show up alone now. Ethan had been a perfect gentleman and readily agreed.

  So, even though Annie—who’d kindly offered to do the bridal party’s makeup—had to apply concealer with a trowel to the shadows under Shaye’s eyes, she looked good. Well, tolerably good, considering how much everything inside her hurt something fierce.

  Holly fussed with the finishing touches to Piper’s hair in Glenna’s formal lounge, and in twenty minutes, they’d head off in Rob Komeke’s ’67 Chevy Impala to Kahurangi Bay. Where West would be waiting to declare his love forever in front of all their friends and family as the sun sank in a flaming ball over the horizon. Shaye’d stand on the beach with them, pretending everything was peachy perfect.

  “Shaye?” Kezia touched her elbow. “You’ve gone all quiet.”

  Shaye bared her teeth in an isn’t this exciting smile. Deliberately self-edited her reply so it wouldn’t contain the phrase I’m fine, which any female knew translated to: My life is falling apart, but see how brave I am?

  “Just thinking how gorgeous my big sister looks.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kezia’s chocolate-colored eyes narrowed to intimidating slits.

  Short and curvy, with clouds of dark curls, Kezia might look like a sweet-natured angel, but she had the ability of a medieval witch hunter when it came to prying the truth from her friends. She’d been groomed by the best—the Harland sisters. Shaye’d only flown under Piper and Kezia’s radar for this long because they’d been busy with their own men, and planning for Piper’s big day.

  “A lame explanation doesn’t fool me for a second—concealer’s not a miracle cure.” Kezia squeezed her arm. “You’re unhappy.”

  “I’m unemployed. Of course I’m unhappy.”

  “No, this isn’t unemployment unhappy, this is man unhappy. I should know. Been there, done that, got the maledetta tee shirt.”

  Shaye sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle, rubbing the soft chiffon of the dress between her fingers, hoping the physical sensation would distract her from imagining Del in his best man suit.

  “Del’s gotten to you, hasn’t he, cara?”

  “No, not at all. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re bloody well not fine.”

  Shaye whipped around to a scowling Piper, who stood there with fists on white silk-covered hips.

  Shaye reapplied her isn’t this exciting smile. “Pipe—you don’t need to worry about me. It’s your big day! You’re going to marry the man of your dreams in the most perfect wedding, ever.” Any more ferociously upbeat and her head would explode.

  Piper’s glare didn’t melt and return to the gooey expression she’d worn since early this morning. “Save your fake happy face for the beach.”

  “I am fine, dammit,” Shaye said, and then contradicted herself by bursting into tears.

  “Oh, fuck a duck,” her sister muttered, patting her arm while Kezia raced to the coffee table for the tissue box.

  Piper raised her voice above the sudden sympathetic female noise—her mother, Holly, and Annie all headed in Shaye’s direction. “Hey! Everybody out of the room for five minutes. Annie—we’ll need you back with your magic tool-kit afterward; this is gonna be messy.”

  After the lounge door shut, leaving them alone, Shaye curled into the couch corner and blotted her face with a handful of tissues. “It’s not meant to be like this.”

  “What isn’t?” Piper perched next to her. “You mean love?”

  “I’m not in love with him. It’s just one minute Del’s the biggest pain-in-the-ass jerk I’ve ever met, and the next, I can’t imagine how I’ll get through a single day without him.”

  “Oh, Shaye-Shaye.” Piper shook her head with a wry smile. “I’m sorry, but stick a fork in your chiffon-covered butt, because you’re toast.”

  “It’s done,” Shaye muttered. “Stick a fork in you, you’re done.”

  “Whatever. You’re in love with Del Westlake. He’s the one.”

  “He’s not the one. He’s nothing like what the one is supposed to be like. Remember the list, Pipe?”

  Piper sighed. “How could I forget?”

  “Well, I’ve already been through it with Holly, and Del doesn’t check the boxes. He’s not my perfect guy.”

  “One day, you’ll figure out love doesn’t give a flying squirrelly fuck about checking off boxes.” Piper grabbed hold of Shaye’s hand and squeezed. “Do you believe West and I can make a go of this?”

  Shaye blinked at her. “Of course. You guys are amazing together.”

  “He’s the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever love.” Piper’s hazel eyes went soft and dreamy, then a second later switched to the flat gaze of the cop she’d once been. “Yet some days, I still consider whether my inside knowledge of police procedure would aid me in throttling him and burying the body in Raikura National Park.”

  Shaye laughed. “You do not!”

  “Okay, slight exaggeration. But my point is, yes, neither one of us is perfect. Separately, we both have broken, fucked-up stuff inside us, but together, we somehow make a whole. A wonky, imperfect whole that’ll require lots of work over the next fifty years to turn imperfection into something beautiful. But it’ll be worth it. Because I love him, and he loves me.”

  “That’s probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say. I just hope you left the fucked up stuff out of your wedding vows.”

  Piper grinned. “West made me. But back to you and Del.”

  “He’s returning to the States as soon as he can find a replacement chef for Due South.”

  “He told you this?”

  Shaye nodded. “I thought he’d changed. He and Bill are getting on better, and I thought maybe he’d let himself love his dad again.”

  Piper twisted her engagement rings—one West had given her when he proposed, the other he’d bought for her when Piper was still a teenager. “You don’t think he’ll donate the kidney?”

  “Actually, I think he will. But in the way a good man with a conscience would donate blood or marrow to a stranger to save their life. He seems to be treating it like ‘take out my kidney, shove it in the sick old dude, then I’m on the first flight back to my real life in the USA.’”

  “Ah. You know, at one stage, I thought I’d rather gnaw off a limb than remain trapped on Stewart Island. Del’s going through a lot of what I went through before I realized
this would always be home.”

  “It’s home for you, because West is here and you love him.” Shaye uncurled from the couch and walked over to the picture windows, which opened up to a view of the Oban township and the sparkling water of Halfmoon Bay Harbor. She pressed her flushed forehead to the cool glass. “You’d live in a bloody slum in Rio or a high-rise apartment block in Hong Kong, as long as you were with West.”

  “True.”

  “Del doesn’t love me.” The words slipped from her mouth like heavy stones, but they didn’t relieve the dull ache in her chest. He didn’t love her. He wanted her, and at first, the thrill of that had been enough. A hot affair to burn off the attraction between them, then they’d go their separate ways.

  Stupid woman.

  Del warned her at the beginning not to get attached, not to make him one of her strays.

  “Are you sure?” With a rustle of silk, Piper came to stand beside her, wrapping an arm across her shoulder.

  “Well, I’m not you. I won’t threaten to kick him in the nuts if he doesn’t tell me,” she huffed.

  Piper chuckled. “I slept on your bedroom floor then hustled my ass back to Wellington, because I was too freaking terrified to ask my man if he loved me.”

  Shaye leaned her head against her sister, drinking in the warmth and solidarity that had returned between them after so long an absence. “I want love to be stress-less, uncomplicated, and sweet.”

  “I know, honey,” Piper said. “But that’s called the friendzone and believe me, you don’t want a long-term thing with a guy who doesn’t drive you crazy in bed and out. Besides, Del can be sweet.”

  Shaye snorted, even though, yeah, Del could be sweet. Sometimes. Like when she’d rolled over and watched him sleep in the faint moonlight slipping through her curtains. The harsh lines of the man had faded into boyish innocence as he lay in a starfish pose, the duvet shoved over her side because he’d kicked off the covers.