“Hey, Row!” a young girl called from the hostess stand. I recognized her immediately as one of Ivy’s old friends from high school.
“Callie? My god, you were just a baby the last time I saw you.”
Callie laughed and rushed around the counter to give me a hug. “And now I’m having babies,” she said, rubbing her very pregnant belly.
Stunned by just how much time had passed, it took me a minute to collect myself. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Warner Price.”
“No way!”
“Yes, way,” Callie replied with pride. “He’s working the bar tonight. You should stop by and say hello before you’re through.”
I couldn’t help shaking my head as I remembered the high school football star who was only a few years younger than me. “I guess a lot has changed around here.”
“Not really. We’re still the same small town we’ve always been.” Callie lowered her voice and placed one hand softly on my arm. “But I guess things must look different after what you’ve been though, huh?”
Her reference to my time abroad was like an ice bath—and the precise reason I didn’t like to revisit any of my old haunts. Now, they were just plain haunting. How could they not be? Everyone here knew what had happened to me.
A fresh start was impossible in Bradford Cove. In a town this small, people talked. And tragic news always seemed to have the longest shelf-life.
“Something like that,” I replied quickly before clearing my throat. “Oh, how rude of me. Have you met Tess Taylor yet?” I asked, acutely aware of the keen way Tess was watching this awkward interaction. “She’s the new florist at Mabel’s.”
“Nice to meet you, Tess,” Callie said, already trying to size up just who we were to each other.
Not wanting to start the gossip mill churning, I offered the obvious explanation. “She’s just been hired to do Ivy’s wedding. We’re discussing details over dinner and I figured what better place than this?”
“Damn straight!” Callie exclaimed. “We’re busy tonight, but just for you, Row, I’ll find you and your friend a great table.”
“Thank you kindly,” I answered, happy to be dismissed from Callie’s scrutiny as she directed a waitress to take us to a table.
We squeezed through the crowded restaurant, the smell of fried food mingling with the noisy jukebox in a way that I could only describe as perfection. I wished I could see Tess’s face. I wanted to see if she was as charmed by this place as I was. The Low-Country Kitchen wasn’t for everyone. But anyone I ended up with needed to be able to enjoy the simple things in life.
Honestly, I wasn’t really sure why I’d brought Tess here. This wasn’t a date. I shouldn’t be testing her to see if we were compatible, but for some reason I couldn’t resist showing her this part of me. Maybe it was because I never got to bring Rachel here, or maybe it was because I’d desperately been trying to find where I belonged ever since my future imploded. Either way, the road somehow led me here, with Tess.
I didn’t entirely understand why yet, but it felt like something I needed to see through.
We took a tiny corner booth in the back of the restaurant where Tess and I had to squeeze in side-by-side. The waitress laid down our menus promising to return in a minute.
Even though my stomach was already growling, I didn’t mind waiting. Not when Tess and I were squeezed together like this. My body was taking up most of the booth, our knees brushing no matter how hard Tess tried to press herself into her seat. The heat of her and the smell of her perfume were making me dizzy again.
There was no doubt about it. I was wildly attracted to this woman. My body had overridden my brain and was acting of its own accord. It was the only reasoning I could come up with that explained the irresistible urge I had to press myself even closer to her.
And have her eyes always been so vividly green?
They were captivating when locked on me.
Tess laughed, nervously. “I guess we were lucky to get a table.”
I nodded; my eyes locked on her lips. They were so close I could easily touch them, but I was doing my best to think about anything else.
“I can’t believe this is your favorite place,” she continued.
“What do you mean?” I asked, skimming down the menu even though I knew exactly what I was going to order.
I licked my lips, trying to keep my mind on anything but how Tess’s lips would taste if I kissed them. But she moved closer to be heard over the noise and the warmth of her breath against my cheek was going to be the death of me.
“Well,” she said. “this place serves baked beans and ribs.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. It’s just not the palate you exude.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved her honesty, and I craved more. “And what palate do I exude?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You look like someone who would rather have caviar or lobster or something . . .” Trailing off, she winced at her own words. “But it was that kind of thinking that got me into trouble at your house earlier today.” She shot me an apologetic look.
“We don’t have to bring that up anymore,” I promised her. “You can blame me for the whole incident . . . but I do want to point out that you thought I was just a regular person like you before you knew my last name. I'm still that guy.”
I gazed into those captivating pools of green as I spoke, unable to blink. “And,” I added, “the shrimp and grits here are better than any caviar or lobster in the world. Believe me.”
“Do you travel a lot?” she asked, settling back into her seat to watch me with rapt interest.
I nodded, even though the topic inched closer to the conversation that I didn’t want to have. I had a feeling I’d tell Tess anything she wanted to know.
Something about her made me want to be open in ways I’d never been able to in the past. I still wasn’t ready to lay everything out in the open, but it wasn’t as scary as I’d thought to share a bit about myself with Tess. It actually felt nice to chat with someone who seemed interested in me rather than my grisly story.
“Up until last year, I was a member of Doctors Without Borders,” I answered carefully, “so yeah, I traveled quite a bit. There’s no place like home though.”
“Wow, I’ll bet,” she murmured. “That sounds like intense work. How was it?” she asked, clearly intrigued.
I swallowed painfully, not really sure where to begin. Thankfully, we were interrupted by the waitress returning with an overflowing basket of fried okra. She set it down with a big grin.
“Archie’s in the back, Row,” the waitress said, referring to the gray-haired chef who’d worked at the diner since I was a kid. “He heard you were here and said we had to get this out to you.”
I laughed and thanked the waitress before sticking a fork into the okra and passing one between my teeth. The fried vegetable bursts against my tongue, making me sigh in delight.
“Tell Archie it’s perfection.”
“Will do,” the waitress said, hurrying to another table.
I turned to Tess, hoping I could get her to try one, but to my surprise, she jumped right in. She didn’t even wrinkle her nose at the sight of the strange vegetable. Instead she took a healthy bite. “Oh, wow!” she moaned. “This is good!” she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. “I’ve never had anything like this.”
I watched her chow down for a minute, grinning from ear-to-ear.
“What?” she asked as she noticed me watching.
I laughed. “I’ve got to be honest, I'm surprised you like this kind of thing.”
“What? Why?”
“You seem too, I don’t know, city for fried okra and a country diner—for Bradford Cove in general, actually.”
She tilted her head, turning back to look at me. She took another bite, a faint smirk spreading over her face. “I guess I'm not the only one who’s been reading people wrong,” she remarked coolly.
“I may be a city girl but that doesn’t mean I’m uppity about food.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “Actually, it might surprise you, but I'm a pizza and beer kind of girl.”
“A lot about you surprises me, Tess Taylor.”
She grinned triumphantly and popped another piece of okra in her mouth, making my heart nearly flatline with those dazzling green eyes of hers. Suddenly, I realized my mistake. This wasn’t baby steps. Baby steps weren’t possible with a girl like Tess. She was full-blown, class five rapids and I was . . . well I was a man who’d forgotten how to swim.
Chapter 10
Tess
“Pizza and beer, huh?” Rowan echoed, tapping his chin in feigned contemplation. “Damn, this isn’t going to work out, Tess. Those are two of my least favorite things.”
I burst into easy laughter and rolled my eyes. “Oh please, there isn’t a person alive who doesn’t like pizza and beer.”
“Speaking of,” he said. “Should we order some beers?”
At my vigorous nodding, Rowan flagged down our waitress and ordered us drinks.
I couldn’t believe how much fun I was having. First of all, I hadn’t envisioned our dinner going like this. I’d expected an uptight restaurant with white tablecloths and menu items I couldn’t pronounce. But sitting in a tiny little diner chatting with Rowan . . . it put me at ease.
The night had only just begun but already it felt like we’d known each other forever. I mean, a billionaire doctor who loves greasy dives? Who knew?
It certainly made me look at him differently.
As he sipped his beer, Rowan shifted to look at me, his thigh pressing closer against mine. I couldn’t tell if he even noticed the subtle change, but I did. Just the feel of his leg so close to mine made the hair on the back of my neck lift with electricity. And when he leaned in so I could hear his deep voice over the crowd, goosebumps prickled up my spine inch by delicious inch.
I knew this wasn’t a date, but it was sure starting to feel like one. And strangely, I didn’t even mind.
After everything I’d been through, that surprised me.
I’d sworn off men for good reason and I thought being out with someone like Rowan was the last thing I’d enjoy, but right now I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
He grinned back at me, leaning his elbow on the table. “Okay, but now for some real talk. I need to hear your opinion of pineapple on pizza.”
“Inhumane,” I answered swiftly, slapping my palm on the table. “The cruelest form of punishment I can think of is taking a perfectly delicious pizza and adding pineapple. Gross.”
His eyes twinkled and he nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. “Had you said anything else, I would’ve had to get up and leave right now,” he added, playfully.
I loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at me like he was now. It made him look like a different person. And this man, the one laughing easily with me . . . he was breathtaking enough to make me forget what we were talking about.
Oh right, pizza!
Just keep thinking about pizza, Tess. Not about how good it feels to have his thigh pressed against yours.
While laughing, we turned back to our menus. “I’m guessing you’re getting the shrimp and grits?” I asked, curiously.
He nodded. “It’s the only thing I ever order here.”
“What should I get? I don’t eat out much and we definitely don’t have food like this in Chicago.”
“The type to cook for yourself, huh?” he asked, looking impressed.
“You could say that,” I murmured.
It was a lot nicer than saying that I preferred eating alone in my apartment to eating out in a restaurant where I'd be surrounded by laughing families and starry-eyed couples.
Rowan looked at me curiously, studying my eyes as he tried to figure out what cryptic message was hidden between my words.
When I only looked back at the menu he said, “You should get the buffalo oysters and the sweet and sour bacon-brussels sprout skillet. It’ll blow your mind.”
I barely had time to contemplate his suggestion before the waitress reappeared to take our order. Deciding to go out on a limb and trust my local guide, I ordered what Rowan suggested, while he ordered his shrimp and grits.
We added another round of beers and sipped from our current ones again as I tried my best to come up with some point of conversation that didn’t give away how attractive I thought he was. I was curious to know more about his family, but that might lead to me accidently bashing the Bradford Estate like I’d done earlier.
I still couldn’t believe a guy who grew up in a place like that wanted to hang out with me in a place like this. Especially after all the things I’d said!
If I were him, I'm not sure I would’ve given me a second chance. I definitely wouldn’t have hired me to do the flowers for Ivy’s wedding. This event was a big deal to me. It was the first thing to go my way in a really long time.
“Thanks for giving me a chance,” I said quietly, staring at Rowan from over the rim of my beer. “I mean after everything that happened. Thanks for trusting Mabel’s to do your sister’s wedding.”
“I didn’t pick Mabel’s,” he answered with a slight smirk. He turned his entire body so that he was facing me, his muscled figure cramped in the booth. I swallowed hard, struggling to keep my gaze from wandering down his gorgeous body. “I picked you, Tess. The ideas you had were great. I truly believe you’re going to make Ivy’s wedding the best it can be.”
My cheeks glowed pink, unused to such kind words. Afraid my voice would be full of too much emotion I could only manage a meager nod.
“Did you work as a florist in Chicago?” he asked, when I remained silent.
“No, I didn't. I actually didn't really have one stable career that I was interested in. I did a ton of odd jobs that kept me working constantly. I don’t like to sit still. I guess you could say I'm kind of a workaholic . . .” I paused for a moment, shoulders sagging. “That’s probably why things ended up the way they did.”
My mind flashed to that night in Chicago when I collected my most important possessions and my broken heart and fled the city as fast as I could. I shuddered and shook my head, rousing from my deep thoughts. Rowan was staring at me intently again. I could tell he had questions but I wasn’t ready to answer them yet, so I changed the subject.
“What about you?” I pressed, eager to turn the tables on the handsome man and get the spotlight off of my past. “You said you were working with Doctors Without Borders. Are you taking a break?”
A flash of something pained flickered across his face before he remembered to lock his emotions behind that cool mask of his once more. He offered me a tight smile, but his blue eyes remained bleak.
“You could say I'm taking a break,” he answered, artfully.
I could tell he was treading carefully and I didn’t want to pry. I knew how hard it was to escape the past. Sometimes, no matter how far you run, it just never truly lets you go.
Something told me that Rowan and I may share similar scars. The kind that couldn’t be seen. The kind we felt with every beat of our hearts.
It was wrong of me to assume that because he was a Bradford, he would’ve lived in some flawless bubble where nothing hurtful ever happened. Heartache and pain didn’t care about money or success. And from the haunted look in Rowan’s eyes, he’d clearly been through the ringer.
The buoyant lightness that he’d been exuding moments ago had vanished like a candle guttering out. I had a sudden urge to reach out and take his hand in solidarity. I could practically see how bruised and battered he was on the inside—just like me.
But tonight wasn’t about our pasts. It was about good food and a good time. And it was about time we got back to it if I had any hope of salvaging whatever this was with Rowan.
As if on cue, the waitress appeared with our beers and two huge plates of southern comfort delicacies. She laid them carefully down on th
e table and I breathed in the heavenly scent. My stomach growled with anticipation. It’d been a long time since I had a meal like this.
Though I’d said I preferred to make my own dinners, I’d neglected to admit they were typically prepackaged microwave meals. It wasn’t that I couldn’t cook, but my sad cuisine was often a product of my lifestyle.
I’d always been a paycheck-to-paycheck girl and that sort of routine didn’t leave much room for restaurant dining.
“Eat up,” Rowan murmured, gently nudging me.
I realized then that I’d just been staring at the sizzling skillet of bacon-drenched greens. Next to it was a dozen oysters on the half shell. They were still smoking and the woodfire aroma of butter, garlic and buffalo sauce wafting from them had left me stunned.
“I don’t know where to start,” I whispered, honestly.
Rowan was sitting so close that his soft chuckle rumbled through me. “Here,” he said, picking up the tiny fork to scoop some of the strange-looking sauces into one of the oysters. After mixing it around he picked up the whole messy forkful of it and held it up to my lips.
I automatically opened up. Rowan’s fingers hovered under the fork, brushing my lips in my haste not to let my dinner drip down my chin. I closed my eyes and moaned. I told myself the embarrassing sound was from the incredible explosion of flavor in my mouth, but the way Rowan’s fingers felt against my lips definitely played a part in it.
When I opened my eyes he was smiling at me like I was an amusing child. “Have you never had oysters?”
“Nope,” I replied, already dinging my fork into the next shell.
“Try some with the bacon-brussels.”
He hadn’t led me astray yet so I eagerly took his suggestion and piled some of the sautéed bacon-y goodness on my fork. My eyes rolled back as I devoured the delicious bite. The brussels sprouts were glazed to perfection, the bacon just sweet enough to make me yearn for another tangy bite of the oysters.
“This is so good!” I gushed after a long few minutes of silence while I shoveled the flawless meal between my lips.
Palmetto Passion: A Sweet Small Town Family Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1) Page 8