A Taste of Temptation

by Heather McGovern

  Wright remembered that phase. A time when Trevor had grown so distant and quiet, he’d all but disappeared into the woodwork.

  “But he wasn’t the one who told me. No one had to tell me. I saw it in the way you two looked at each other last night. The way you were together. And I’m glad of it. You always did get on well, and Sophie would thrive with someone like you. Stable and strong.”

  Wrong. “I’m leaving Honeywilde. Kinda like you did.”

  Her mouth turned down.

  “Sorry. That was rude. But I’m pretty sure Sophie hates me right now, so I’m running low on politeness. I screwed up. Didn’t tell her about leaving, and you show up and stir up a bunch of crap—sorry, but it’s true—and now she’s gone.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “Hell if I know. Away from me. Away from you.” He needed to find her, but he couldn’t go after her with more excuses. He needed something better than I’m sorry.

  Sue studied her hands, clasped in front her. “Her skittishness is my fault, and Robert’s. Don’t blame her. She wants stability, someone to be close who she can count on. Always has. But it frightens her more than anything, and that . . .” She shared a look with Trevor. “That has a lot to do with us.”

  Yes, it did. Wright planted his hands at his waist. “Why did you come here?”

  Self-deprecation laced her small smile. “To talk to the kids. That’s all. Tell them I’m proud of them. Let Devlin know how thrilled I am to hear he’s getting married. Proud of Roark, and all of you, for doing what I never could. And that I … I’m sorry.”

  Wright studied the woman before him. Divorced and worn down, but still standing. “Yeah, well, you should be sorry.” Not the most gracious response of life, but when it came to Sophie, and people who hurt her, he had little grace to offer.

  Well... Shit.

  He’d hurt her. As much as Sue, he’d betrayed her vulnerability, her trust.

  With a frustrated groan he scrubbed at his face. “That’s not . . . I . . . You’re not the only one who should be sorry.”

  She didn’t say anything; neither did Trevor, but she nodded, solemn.

  “Sophie struggles with you leaving,” Wright told her. “Every day. Though I don’t think people realize the same way they do with Dev, because she does such a great job of covering. Coping with it. Hiding.”

  “And because she’s strong.” Sue smiled. “She doesn’t always know it, but she is.”

  Sophie was strong. Stronger than anyone gave her credit for, including him.

  Wright locked his jaw. Of all the people in her life, he recognized her strength beneath the insecurities. Beneath the fears. But when it came down to it, he hadn’t trusted her to be strong enough. Hadn’t trusted her to hear about his opportunities, to talk about the future.

  She’d run from every guy in the past, but that hadn’t meant she would run from him. Not once they’d finally gotten close. Not if he talked to her and believed in her. Stood by her through her fears.

  Then, when he’d gotten caught lying, all he’d done was make excuses.

  Here he was, thinking he needed to go to her with something more than an apology, when he hadn’t ever apologized in the first place.

  Sue sighed, garnering his attention. “A couple of years ago, I started talking to someone. A doctor. She helped me . . . see things I never could. Got me started on medicine that’d help me. I hated Robert when I started treatment, but my doctor kept telling me it wasn’t him I really hated. And she told me I needed to get right with my kids. And to do that, I need Sophie here.”

  Sophie.

  Her absence was a sharp pain that wouldn’t go away.

  Sue Bradley wasn’t the only one who needed to make things right with Sophie.

  “I have to go.” The words spilled out. “I have to go find her.”

  Sue nodded, her gaze finding Trevor. “I’ll wait. I’m not going anywhere until I apologize.”

  Apologize.

  Exactly what he needed to do. Rather than coming up with excuses and defending himself out of pride and purpose, he needed to tell Sophie he was sorry. He’d been so convinced he needed to go to her with something more than I’m sorry, but really, that was precisely what he needed to do. Apologize for not trusting that she was strong enough. For not remembering that the two of them were different than her other relationships.

  He shook his head. How was he supposed to convince Sophie that he meant well, but he was sorry, and he’d never make the same mistake again? That he’d never lie to her under the guise of protecting her, and he’d trust her and her strength from here on out. For as long as she’d let him. This went beyond a failed recipe. This was the woman he loved.

  “That’s it.” An idea began to bloom, and he refused to go to her empty handed.

  He hurried back to the kitchen, intent on one item before he left. And this time, he wasn’t going to burn anything.

  As he mixed, he tried texting Sophie. As he waited, he texted again. Ten minutes later, the swinging doors opened, and he turned, hoping to find Sophie.

  “Can we, um . . . I need to talk to you for a minute.” Dev scrubbed a hand over his mouth.

  Dread made his stomach turn, but he forced himself to agree.

  Dev held himself very still and stiff. Slowly, he inhaled before looking him in the eyes. “This thing, with our mother, it’s going to drag on for days. You know that, right?”

  Wright managed to nod while Marco acted like he was preoccupied by French toast.

  “I’m not happy about any of this, but Roark said I should at least talk to you. I . . . I’m not mad about you and Sophie being . . . you know, doing what you’re doing.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Yes, I am.” His body sagged as he dragged a hand through his hair. He took a few steps closer toward Wright, but his posture was less defensive. “Maybe I shouldn’t be. I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore, but I am mad. You’re my best friend! That’s my sister, and that’s not even what bothers me most. I mean . . . I know you two have always been close or whatever. And it’s not beyond the stretch of reason that you’d be attracted to one another and—” He threw his hands up and shook his head. “Okay, you know what? I can’t talk about this because it’s weirding me out. But I guess . . . I guess I get it? It’s not insane that the two of you would, you know, want to be together. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  The breath Wright had been holding left on a whoosh.

  “But what is insane is you lied. Not only to me, but everyone. Lied that you guys were seeing each other and then lied about the fact you’re leaving.”

  Marco turned from the stove top and Wright opened his mouth to argue, to defend his actions again. Except he’d run out of reasons and excuses. He needed to take a note from the Bradleys and own up to his mistakes.

  All of them.

  “I know, Dev. You’re right. I don’t have anything else to say except you’re absolutely correct. And I’m sorry. I . . . I was so sure I was handling everything the right way. So focused on . . .” Making your sister mine.

  Yeah, maybe he’d leave that part out for now.

  “On doing what I thought was right that I didn’t stop to think I could be wrong. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about leaving. For all of it.”

  He should’ve told Sophie all of it too. Wanting more for his career, needing to spread his wings beyond Honeywilde. He should’ve shown her that he believed she was strong enough instead of saying it.

  “That’s my little sister. You know how much I love her. And if you hurt her, best friend or not, I will kick your ass.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

  “Then you have to fix this.”

  Wright shook his head, not sure he heard Dev correctly.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to forbid y’all being together. It’s not the 1800s. It’ll be weird
for a while, but I want my sister to be happy. I want you to be happy. Right now, neither of you are happy because you screwed up and she’s scared.”

  “I know. I did a top-notch job of ruining everything.”

  Dev gave him a hard stare. “Wright, I’ve seen you in the kitchen, taking a disaster and turning it into a delicacy.”

  Speaking of . . . he took a look inside the oven.

  “Do you love my sister?” Dev asked from behind him.

  Wright kept his eyes on the oven as he answered. “So much it hurts.”

  When he turned, Dev’s smile was small, a fraction of what he was capable of, but joy still seeped through. “Then you better find her.”

  That was exactly what he intended to do.

  Chapter 25

  Sophie kept driving, no idea where she was going.

  Down the mountain, around the turns too fast, her brakes squealing on one particularly sharp bend.

  Her heart kicked, adrenaline rushing like live wires along her limbs.

  She skidded to a stop on the side of the road and threw the car into park.

  “No.” With her fingers dug into her hair, she squeezed her eyes shut. She was not dying on some road. Not because she was upset, not for him, not for anything.

  All she wanted was to get away, but if she didn’t pull it together she’d be the cause of the disaster she feared so much.

  “I’m not going let something awful happen,” she told her parents.

  No, their photograph wasn’t anywhere near her, but she saw them in her mind as clearly as any picture.

  “I . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  She could avoid crashing her car, for a start.

  She hadn’t been able to do anything to save her folks, but she could at least look out for herself.

  “I know.” Sophie nodded, eyes still shut. Flying off the handle never ended well for her, no matter how often she tried. “I’ll calm down. It’s just . . .”

  Wright was leaving her.

  He swore he wasn’t, but his argument was semantics. Tiny details. All of which he’d kept from her.

  How could he keep that from her after what they’d shared?

  Sophie opened her eyes. She needed to get farther away from him, but not at risk of life and limb.

  The rest of the way down the mountain, she stayed under the limit. Once she reached the bottom, she headed east.

  She drove until she ended up on the long driveway that led to Chateau Jolie.

  Why she chose here was a muddied mixture of needing to be away from it all, but if she was honest, it was a call back to a time and place she’d been so certain and sure.

  Here, she’d been content with Wright. That day, she let happiness in and there wasn’t a sign of the outside world. He’d planned the whole afternoon for them.

  For her.

  Because he knew they wouldn’t have that time and opportunity otherwise.

  Sophie’s hands began to shake, her face and limbs going fiery hot, her ears ringing.

  By the time she parked in the small lot, her stomach was in such knots, she opened the door, thinking she might get sick.

  She and Wright had a good thing, and it’d not only all gone to hell in a handbasket, but it had done so in front of her entire family.

  With a groan, she put her feet on the ground and lowered her head, rocking back and forth a bit.

  Maybe it was all a dream.

  She’d nurtured all these emotions and expectations, putting so much meaning into what she and Wright had, until she made herself believe it was real, even if it wasn’t—maybe she’d made up the whole argument they’d had right in front of her family. Spilling the truth about what they’d been up to.

  No sane person would really do that, blurting out that their chef and friend wasn’t only walking out on them but had been sleeping with their sister for weeks now.

  A wave of vertigo washed over her, and she sat back, pinching her eyes closed.

  But she’d done exactly that. And then she ran.

  Why not make a bad situation worse, right? Take something from horrible—like her mother showing up out of nowhere and finding out Wright might leave Honeywilde—and ramp the whole thing up to catastrophic by having their meltdown in front of everyone.

  “Way to go.” She scrubbed her hands over her face.

  A cough made her jump.

  “Sophie?” Brooke, manager and one of the owners of the Chateau, stood by her car, concern hardening her regal features.

  “Yeah.” Sophie tried to play it casual, though she probably looked a mess. “Hey. How’s it going?”

  “It’s . . .” Brooke cocked her head to the side, her brow wrinkled. “It’s going all right, I guess. I saw you pull in as I was walking up from the vineyard. Looked like you were about to—

  Are you sick? Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Oh . . . um, no. I’m fine.” She swiped at her face, her lips trembling. “Just, y’know, getting some fresh air.”

  Brooke squinted harder. She wasn’t buying it. “Maybe you should get out of that hot car then?”

  If she stood up right now, her legs might not hold her.

  Physically, she was fine. Her heart was the only thing hurting, but her legs were weak. Pretending she was okay was enough work while sitting down. Forget having to stand up and move around like her happiness wasn’t blown to pieces.

  “No, I’m okay. I . . .” Need a place to hide from my life and losing the man I thought I loved.

  Brooke studied her, and she was not going away.

  It dawned on Sophie that Brooke had sisters. Several sisters.

  What were the chances she’d faced this scenario before? And knew Sophie was lying to save face.

  They could stay here, like this, for who knew how long, or she could fess up and tell Brooke why she’d randomly shown up at her chateau.

  Lies had not been her friend today, and she didn’t want to participate in more.

  Sophie lifted her face toward Brooke but closed her eyes with a sigh. “Family drama at Honeywilde. I had to get the hell out of there and have a moment alone. So here I am. At your place. At the competition’s, because I couldn’t stand to be around my family one more minute.”

  Brook laughed and Sophie opened her eyes.

  “Sorry.” Brooke covered her mouth, the laughter fading. “I’m not laughing at you. But I happen to know exactly what you mean. I know all too well.”

  Sophie let her shoulders slump.

  “Why don’t you come inside? It’s cooler. I’ll make some lemonade.”

  She plastered on a smile. “No. Thank you, though. I just need a moment.”

  Brooke frowned, and still didn’t leave. “Is there someone I can call for you? If not family, then a friend?”

  A friend was the reason she was in this state. “I don’t want to talk to a friend right now.”

  She nodded with a hum of consideration. “Well . . .” Hands on her hips, Brooke studied the parking lot. “I’m not going to leave you out here, and that’s final. You can come inside the competition’s place and at least let me get you some lemonade or coffee or something.”

  “I don’t—”

  “It’s not happenin’, Red.” Brooke cut her off. “You’re not staying out here to wallow in this heat.”

  Sophie gaped at the sophisticated woman before her; all perfect hair and pearl earrings, and she’d called Sophie “Red” with a look like she was about to go find a hickory stick.

  A laugh burst from Sophie’s lips. “You do have sisters, huh?”

  Brooke’s stubborn stare wasn’t budging. “Two of them. Younger. Now, are you coming inside or do I have to drag you?”

  With a shake of her head, Sophie pushed herself from the driver’s seat. “No ma’am. I’ll come inside.”

  “Wonderful.” And like that, the manager of Jolie morphed back into the picture of regal femininity. She led the way into the chateau’s main floor. “I hope you understand. I can
’t, in good conscience, leave you out there, looking so upset.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it. I look awful.”

  “Okay, fine, you look a mess. Woman to woman, as someone who’s been there, I’m not going to let you melt in this miserable heat, looking like hell.”

  The chateau was blissfully cool, the inside lit with only natural light and a couple of lamps near reception.

  “Would you like lemonade or coffee? Or iced tea?”

  Her throat was raw from crying the night before and all the arguing today. “Coffee sounds nice.” She sat in one of the wingback chairs near a window while Brooke wandered away.

  Eventually the scent of fresh brewed coffee, along with the sound of someone bustling in the kitchen, warmed her nerves.

  Until she thought about kitchens and the person who worked in one.

  “Coffee was a bad idea.”

  “What’s that?” Brooke joined her with a serving tray and sat it on a small ottoman between them.

  “Nothing.”

  Brooke studied her, but didn’t push. “If you say so. Here, have some.” The coffee at Jolie was served in elegant white cups with a saucer and French press. “I brought some pastries from this morning too. Pain au chocolat, in case you’re hungry.”

  She couldn’t even think of food, not even in the form of a plate of chocolate-filled pastry.

  “Wow, things must be bad if you can resist these.” Brooke plucked one from the tray.

  “I’m really sorry about this. I don’t mean to be a bother.”

  “Oh please. This is not a bother. A bother is the time I was woken up in the wee hours of the morning because my littlest sister, Reagan, found out her fiancé was running around with the new female bartender at the Tavern.”

  “The one who had the sleeve of tattoos?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “She hasn’t worked there in months.”

  “Yeah well, you don’t mess with my baby sister. Don’t hear much about the ex-fiancé these days either.” Brooke cocked an eyebrow as she sipped her coffee, and Sophie felt a tinge of hero worship already.

  They sat quietly for a while, veritable strangers, sipping coffee as though they were in a café.

  Finally, Brooke put her coffee down and reached for a napkin. “So. Do you want to talk about it, or are we going to sit here in silence until you check in or go home? I’m fine either way, but I have tons of paperwork waiting on me, and this might go faster if you tell me what’s wrong.”