He wanted forever with Sophie, but couldn’t tell her all of that now. Not yet.
First, he had a decision to make and a job to firm up. More than that, Sophie needed to be ready. He couldn’t pressure her for more if he didn’t know what he was doing. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin what they’d so carefully created with a bunch of questions about the future and commitment.
One ingredient at a time, he reminded himself. Patience. A dash of this, and pinch of that, until they got there.
And he had to find a way to tell his parents he wouldn’t be leaving for New York or Chicago, or across the country, and all because of Sophie. A Bradley.
He cringed inwardly at the proposition.
His folks would be livid, but they’d have to get over it.
“C’mere.” Wright slid his hands under the sheets and over Sophie. Her body was warm, small curves perfectly filling his touch. Their lips met and he kissed her until she was even warmer and loose-limbed against him.
“We have a little while before I have to cook breakfast.” He hooked his hand under her knee, tugging her leg over until she straddled him. “Let me make things up to you.”
She laughed into their kiss. “There’s nothing to make up for.”
He brushed his lips down her neck, lower and lower, until he captured one of her nipples, kissing and sucking until it puckered in his mouth. “I know. But I want to anyway.”
* * *
Wright changed into clean clothes from his bag and ran downstairs, sneaking into the kitchen earlier than anyone else, except for Marco.
Marco winked and went back to his prep work, whistling and dicing.
Once breakfast and lunch were served, Wright had a long stretch of afternoon free.
He wanted to find Sophie and spend the afternoon together, but he still hadn’t called his dad back or checked in with his folks at all. Calling them meant facing them, and facing them meant dealing with his looming future.
His parents weren’t going to like what he had to say, but waiting day after day to tell them wouldn’t change things.
He couldn’t say yes to New York now that he and Sophie stood a real chance of being together, but he couldn’t ask her for some kind of commitment yet either. He’d have to take it on faith that if he stayed somewhere close, the two of them would eventually be together.
With a quick text to Sophie, letting her know he’d be gone to see his parents for a while, he dialed his father’s number.
His dad answered. “You’re alive. That’s nice to know.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know it’s been a few days.”
“A few days? We’ve been leaving messages with you for almost two weeks now.”
Wright ran over the dates in his head. Had two weeks gone by since they spoke?
“But listen, I’m glad you called. Your mother wanted me to call you about having lunch or a drink.”
“I’m working. You know I can’t do lunch.”
“I realize that, but we’re having a late lunch. You need to make this happen.” His father insisted he agree on meeting today.
His mother must’ve reached her breaking point. Late lunch was not optional.
Wright put on his cheeriest voice. “Where would you like to go? I’ll meet you there.”
“The club. We’re on our way there now. You come on as soon as you can get out of that place.”
That place.
Like Honeywilde was a sweatshop and not a luxury inn. “Okay, Dad. I’ll see you at the club.”
His parents had been members of Mountain Creek Country Club for at least thirty years. It was way outside of town, snotty and inconvenient as hell, but it was the only exclusive club in the county and damn if his parents didn’t have to be members.
Wright hated the place. The food was dry, pretentious, and overpriced.
A lot like the members.
By the time he got there, his parents already had their martinis.
“Would you like a drink, son?” His father stood to shake his hand, and that would be the extent of his affection.
“No, I’m fine.” Wright sat and didn’t bother looking at the menu. Call him a food snob, but there was no point in getting anything but the soup here.
“It’s good to finally see you.” His mom leaned over and gave him a half hug.
He loved his mom. She meant well and only wanted the best for him. Only, her ideas of what was best didn’t always line up with his. She tried, though. Made sure he always knew how proud they were and how much they expected of him.
And he wanted them to be proud. They’d worked hard to be where they were and to give him opportunities. He was grateful.
He wasn’t as concerned with impressing everyone and everything as they were.
“I was beginning to think we’d have to make reservations at that Honeywilde restaurant to remember what you look like,” his father joked.
He put on a smile and sipped his water. “The restaurant is called Bradley’s.” His father knew that. Wright had worked there since he finished culinary school. “And a chef’s hours are long. I don’t have a ton of free time.”
“We know, honey.” His mother patted his hand. “We know. That’s why we want more for you with as hard as you work and all.”
And by more, she meant more money.
He had to work not to roll his eyes, in perfect mimicry of Sophie. “I do fine at Bradley’s. I told you, these new opportunities are great, but if they don’t work out, it’s not the end of the world. Not like I’m living hand to mouth. I’ll survive.”
“And is that enough? To simply survive?” His father sipped his martini and nodded to their waiter.
Poor wording on Wright’s part. He knew better than to slip with any word that could be twisted into a criticism of Honeywilde or the family who owned it. Especially not in front of his father.
When Wright had left for culinary school, a shift took place between them.
His dad wanted him to be something sensible, like an accountant or salesman. Since Wright had insisted on the unstable enterprise of being a chef, his father behaved more like a business partner than a parent.
“I’m doing a lot better than surviving, okay? I enjoy being head chef at the resort. I’d love the challenge of something new, sure, but I told you, I’m not going to accept any old offer. It has to be right.”
His mother’s mouth turned down at the corners. “What exactly constitutes any old offer?”
He should’ve known she’d read into that. But there was no point in staving off the truth, only to make lunch tenser.
“I’m not going to move off to Chicago or New York for a new opportunity.”
“What?” Her volume went up a notch.
Wright shook his head at her look of shock. “Mom, come on. You really think I’d be happy in some big-city, Yankee kitchen?”
His father sat forward, both arms folded onto the table. “I thought you wanted to expand your horizons. Strive for something better.”
“Those were your words, not mine. I want to do something different, get broader experience since I’ve only ever worked at Honeywilde. But I don’t need to move halfway across the country to do that. I don’t want to move that far away. The southeast has some of the best restaurants in the country. Why should I leave if I can find something in Charleston or Charlotte, or even Greenville and Asheville?”
The waiter approached and his mother stiffened. She didn’t approve of private talk around strangers. Particularly not strangers she viewed as “the help.”
Wright wondered if she ever stopped staring down her nose enough to realize that for the guests at Honeywilde, he was the help.
They placed their orders, and as soon as their waiter was out of earshot, Wright’s mom leaned forward. “For what we paid to put you through Johnson and Wales and your level of talent and hard work, it’s embarrassing that you aren’t getting more recognition. You’re too good for that place. Too talented. You should be in New York, with yo
ur own restaurant. Or TV show. Now, I know you don’t like me saying so, but that’s how I feel.” She sat back, her eyes glistening, the corners of her mouth wobbly.
He was not going to get a TV show. His mother’s dream was absurd, but he wasn’t going to say as much and hurt her feelings.
As predicted, his decision upset her. He hated it, but he couldn’t live his life for her.
His father sat, stoic except for the thin line of his mouth. “If New York and Chicago are out of the equation, then what about the offers in Charleston and Asheville?”
“I’m still interested in those. We’re in talks.”
“And you’ll accept?”
“Guys.” Wright took a deep breath. “I don’t have an answer yet, but as soon as I do, you’ll know.”
Right after he told Sophie.
He wanted her to be the first to know because she mattered.
Before they got together, nothing factored into his decision about the future except his desire to spread his wings. To prove he could do more than work for the family of his best friend and rely on their goodwill to get by.
Now things were different.
If he had the opportunity to go and be one of the top chefs in the region, he wanted Sophie to be a part of it. He wasn’t going to move so far away that she couldn’t be.
Their food arrived, and the three of them ate half of their lunches in an awkward silence.
“So . . .” His mother was the first to break the tension, as always. “How are things at the inn?”
“Great, actually.” He welcomed the chance to talk about something besides his career path. “We’re the host location for this year’s Chamber Gala. I guess Devlin won so many people over with the Blueberry Festival that the Chamber wanted to work with him. Honeywilde is the perfect location.”
At the mention of Dev’s name, his parents shared a quick glance and made a point of not looking him in the eyes as they ate and drank.
Regardless of how far Devlin had come in life, the changes he’d made and the man he was today, to his parents, Dev would always be the boy who got Wright into trouble; the one who almost got him wait-listed for college because of a B&E charge. All of that was more than ten years ago, but to his parents, it might as well have been two days ago.
“I was able to completely create the menu too.” Wright kept talking about the gala, filling the dead air. His folks hated Dev, and therefore all of the other Bradleys, and he’d learned to live with it.
But if he was going to be with Sophie, living with their animosity was no longer an option.
“There will be dinner and dancing and raising money. We’ve only had a couple of weeks to pull the details together, but it’s going to be phenomenal. Sophie designed a layout to make the patio and verandah look like an enchanted garden. She did an amazing job too.”
He went on, in great detail, about the event, and all of Soph’s hard work. Anything to fill up the rest of lunch.
But his parents shared looks at every mention of Sophie’s name. The heavy glances were different than when he mentioned Dev, and this time he couldn’t let it slide.
“Okay, enough with the looks.”
His mother blinked rapidly and reached for her martini. “What looks?”
“The looks you keep giving each other like I’m talking about Delilah. The Bradleys are good people. You need to ease up on them.”
“Sophie’s not technically a Bradley,” his father pointed out.
“Dad.” Wright’s tone had an edge on it like a knife. No one was going take jabs at Sophie. Not even his father.
“Now, now.” His mother set her glass down. “Your father didn’t mean it like that. But we know how you get about that poor adopted girl, and maybe it’s clouding your judgment.”
Wright’s fist landed on the table, making the silverware jump. His mother’s eyes went wider than her salad bowl as she scanned the room to see if anyone was staring.
He kept his voice even and low. “First of all, she isn’t a poor anything. She doesn’t warrant or want your pity. Secondly, she isn’t that adopted girl. She’s as much a Bradley as the rest of them. And—” A siren suddenly filled his mind as the rest of his mother’s words sank in. “What do you mean, you know how I get?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I mean, you do things like bang your fist on the table at me if I say the least little thing about her.”
Wright unclenched his fist and put his hand in his lap. “I’m sorry. But I won’t let you criticize her for no reason other than being part of the Bradley family.”
His father leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “She’s why you don’t want to move away, isn’t she?”
He couldn’t argue. To do so would be a lie, and he didn’t lie to his parents. Not anymore.
His father huffed with disapproval. “Dammit, son, don’t you miss out on the chance of a lifetime for that girl. We know you’ve always had a thing for her, but you’ll regret it if you let her hold you back.”
“She isn’t holding me back.” Wright glared at both of them, then at his half-eaten soup.
Dammit to hell. He was a grown man and they had no bearing on his relationship with Sophie, but of course his parents would see how he felt about her. Why wouldn’t they? They’d always been involved in his life, and most of his life involved Sophie. Thinking back, he’d probably mentioned her name at least once in every conversation.
Sophie did this, Sophie said that. Hey, listen to this funny story about Sophie.
He was an idiot for not realizing they’d see the truth. A truth he’d tried to deny or ignore for years. And all the avoidance and disregard, all of the dating around and reining in his feelings had still led him right back to Sophie in the end. What good came from hiding it now? Why lie about an undeniable truth?
“I think I’m in love with her.” He blurted the words at his parents.
Neither of them moved. Didn’t even look like they were breathing.
Wright flattened his hands on his thighs. “No, I know I’m in love with her. But . . . I haven’t told her. I hadn’t planned on telling you guys, but there you go. That’s why I can’t let you sit there and talk down about her. And no, I can’t move across the country for some job when I might get the same opportunity an hour or two down the interstate.”
His parents still didn’t move a millimeter.
“One of you, say something.”
“How . . .” His mother coughed into her napkin and took a sip of her drink before trying again. “I mean, when did this—”
“Why haven’t you told her?” his father asked.
“Because I’m waiting until the right time.”
“Not a good sign if you have to wait.”
His mom laid a hand on his father’s forearm, but directed her questions at Wright. “Does she know about the opportunities in Charleston and Asheville? Or even New York?”
“She’s a manager at Honeywilde, where I work. No, I haven’t told her about leaving. I told you, the time has to be right.” And because bringing up his future would mean talking about theirs.
Asking Sophie to make any kind of plans or commit—no, now was too soon for that kind of talk.
“What if she has no interest in leaving Honeywilde, and you end up in Charleston? Are you going to let her derail your career completely?”
Wright tossed his hands up. “No. I don’t know. Jesus, I don’t have all the answers right now. I’m waiting to see what happens first. I’m not saying anything until I know. What if none of these jobs become official? What if none of it works out? Then it’s a nonissue.”
“Wait a minute.” His father pressed his pointer finger into the tablecloth. “If you don’t get any of these offers, aren’t you going to try again later? Are you giving up your goal of working somewhere besides Honeywilde, all because of Sophie?”
“No.”
“Then you need to take a moment to think about it.” His mother intervened, one hand on Wright’s arm, the other still
on his father’s. “Not to answer us, but to answer Sophie. When you tell her how you feel, when you tell her about these opportunities, you can be certain she’ll have the same questions we do. And the offers for other jobs won’t stop coming, Wright. You’ll continue to be courted away from that place, and she needs to know it.”
She already knew it. Sophie was smart. She’d have to know he had offers, but she probably assumed he’d never accept.
Wright took a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm down.
His mother gave his arm a pat before letting go. “And you can’t answer with what she wants or what we want. You have to know what you want.”
Chapter 19
With Wright gone for the afternoon to visit his folks, and most of her work done for the day, she was finally able to take an afternoon off.
Sophie could do anything she wanted, and what she wanted most of all was to do nothing.
A protein bar in her pocket and a bottle of water in her hand, she left the main inn to wander. No intentions or direction. A chance to roam wherever the day took her.
She headed toward Lake Anikawa and hung a left on the path that wound all the way around the body of water. Whether she had it in her to do the full distance, she wasn’t sure, and she didn’t care.
For half an hour she strolled, the oaks and pines towering above, rhododendrons knotted by the lake side, creating muffled silence and privacy.
Wright had texted her after brunch, saying he was having lunch with his folks at the club.
The club.
She sucked her teeth, loudly, since no one could hear.
His parents had always been members of the country club. Back when her adoptive parents could barely afford to keep the lights on at Honeywilde. Wright got a new car when he was sixteen, while she didn’t have one until college.
It’d been selfish and petty to envy Wright those material things, but she had. Living in Windamere wasn’t like living in a city. There was no bus or rail system. With no car, she was stuck at Honeywilde unless a friend would come get her.
A Taste of Temptation Page 19