[Reluctant Hearts 01.0] Caged in Winter

by Brighton Walsh

  I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I settle back in my seat, but images of what he plans to drag me away for drift through my mind, taking up valuable space I need for studying. If his intention was to make me focus more, it’s having the opposite effect.

  Before I can picture any more decidedly inappropriate situations, the back door opens, Haley’s sweet voice ringing through the house. “Uncle Cade! I’m home! Whatcha makin’ me?” Her feet pound on the floor until she’s in the kitchen, running at full speed into Cade’s knees.

  He laughs, picks her up, and tosses her in the air, then plants a thousand kisses all over her face until she’s a fit of breathless giggles. And while this picture should fill me with nothing but happiness, my heart actually hurts to see it. To see what a family could be like. Should be like. Being there for one another, even when you don’t have to be. It’s not about obligation or guilt, ultimatums, and crushing, unwanted responsibility. It’s not the death sentence my mother always told me it was.

  Unlike her, Cade wasn’t saddled with this responsibility because of poor decisions. This is a choice he made. To help his sister as much as he can in raising Haley because he wants to. He doesn’t have to, but he’s here because he loves both of them beyond measure. He’s the most amazing, wonderful, giving, selfless man, and I love him.

  I love him.

  Nineteen

  cade

  “Cade, stay for a bit after, would you?” Chef Foster says as he passes my station before continuing on.

  I nod without looking up, focusing intently on the food I’m plating. It’s my first class since last week’s shit show, and I’ve made it a personal mission not to fuck up again. It’s not something that’s ever happened before—even when I was first starting—and I’m pissed as hell at myself that I allowed my personal life to seep in to the kitchen. I can’t let it happen again. I have too much riding on this class. And the last thing I want to do is disappoint my mentor, especially after all the advice and guidance he’s given me. I know that even with our personal relationship going years back, he isn’t going to go easy on me.

  I get my plates out on time today, the line moving smoothly and efficiently. I’m in my groove, the rhythm of my actions soothing as things continue like this for the hours-long class and restaurant service. For a while, I let myself indulge in my biggest dream—this is my restaurant, these are my ideas we’re plating and serving to customers. They’re paying for my food.

  I have years until I’ll get to that point—if I ever will. After graduation, I’m more than likely to get a position as a prep or line cook. And I’d be happy with either of those, working my ass off and climbing the ladder. I don’t have a problem paying my dues, and there’s little doubt in my mind I’ll have to.

  It’s about talent, of course, but so much of getting placement after graduation is being in the right place at the right time…knowing the right people in the right positions. It’s nearly unheard of to land something as prestigious as head or executive chef right out of school. Sometimes students get lucky, stumble upon a sous chef position at an up-and-coming restaurant, but I have no false aspirations this will happen for me. I’ll be happy with whatever I can find, so long as I can be in a kitchen, creating incredible food.

  When class ends, the restaurant closing as the last customers file out, I stay behind, making sure my station is clean to a meticulous degree. I pack away my knives and wait for Chef Foster. He hasn’t said anything to me since last week’s fuckup, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s why I’m here right now. To get my ass chewed. And while I know he gave me several days’ buffer so he’d keep his head on straight and not ream me, I almost wish he would’ve talked to me immediately after instead of having to wait days to get ripped in to like I know I deserve.

  “Cade,” he says. His eyes are sharp behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his shoulders straight as he walks toward me like he owns the kitchen, the very tile I’m standing on. I have probably six inches and sixty pounds on him, but the respect he commands in here is undeniable.

  “Chef Foster.”

  “I think we both know why I had you stay behind, so I’m just going to cut to the chase. What the fuck was that last week?”

  I blow out a long breath. There’s nothing I can say that doesn’t sound like an excuse. I know exactly what happened. Her name is Winter, and she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long fucking time.

  Somehow, I don’t think he’d like to hear that, though.

  “I’m sorry I let you down, Chef. My mind was elsewhere. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it’s not going to happen again.” He crosses his arms, staring me down, clenching his jaw. He’s pissed, even after his cooling-down period. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this mad, but it looks like it’s more than just frustration. I see disappointment lurking in his eyes, too, and that kills me.

  Shaking his head, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You are one of the brightest, most talented chefs I’ve ever had the privilege to teach. And to see you making stupid mistakes this late in the game? Well, it irritates the piss out of me, to be honest. And it’s unacceptable.”

  I nod in understanding, knowing I can’t say anything to refute him. He’s right.

  “You want to run your own restaurant someday, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answer without hesitation. It’s been the only dream I’ve allowed myself to truly indulge in, to actually strive for. While I have other dreams—going to Italy, cooking in Rome and Tuscany, I know those will never happen. I can’t leave Tessa and Haley. Winter. But my own restaurant is something that can happen here, at home.

  “You think you’re going to get there by falling behind, dragging an entire fucking kitchen down with you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You think there are going to be people as goddamn nice as I am there to pick up your sorry ass and shove you back on your feet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That’s right. I’m going to look like your fairy fucking godmother compared to everyone else out there. This is a cutthroat industry, and if you fail, there are a hundred chefs who will stand in line to get your position. They will climb over you and not look back. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You have the talent, Cade. Pure, raw talent. You have the drive. I know what you want for yourself, and I don’t have a doubt you’ll achieve it. But in the past few weeks, you’ve been lacking focus. I realize you’ve got a lot of shit to deal with at home, shit you didn’t count on for yourself, but that’s nothing new. I’m not sure what’s been happening during these few weeks, and I give zero fucks what it is. What happens in here doesn’t have anything to do with what happens out there. Do whatever you need to get that figured out, outside of my kitchen. Think about it before you walk through that door,” he says as he points in that direction, “and again when you leave, but while you’re here, in my fucking world, you think about nothing but food, you got me? Nothing.”

  “Yes, sir.” I nod. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want an apology. I want your performance back up to par with what I’ve come to expect from you. Don’t make me regret talking you up to several contacts. I don’t put my ass on the line for just anyone.”

  The shame that I let him down hangs even heavier now, the disappointment I know he feels obvious. That he thinks enough of me to put his reputation on the line? I can’t let him down again. I won’t.

  “Amazing things are going to happen for you, Cade. But you have to want them.”

  “I do. I’m all in.”

  “Good.” He reaches out, claps his hand over my shoulder, and turns to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and you better be ready to bleed sweat on this floor.”

  “I will be.”

  winter

  As soon as I walk out the back door after the pub closes, Annette by my side, my eyes immediately find Cade. He’s at the far end of the parking l
ot, just a shadow of a man, but I know it’s him. He’s straddling his bike, and my stomach kicks and twists and flips at the sight of him.

  “See you tomorrow, sugar.”

  “Have a good night, Annette.”

  Before I can get too far, someone calls my name from the doorway of the pub. Turning around, I see Randy standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

  “That your boyfriend?” he asks, tipping his head in the direction of Cade.

  “Yeah.”

  He hums, staring at the dark shape of Cade in the corner. “He’s been in before, hasn’t he? Big guy, lots of tattoos? Some metal through his fucking face…”

  My shoulders tighten, hearing someone refer to Cade that way. I know that’s how people see him—as nothing more than an imposing, scary guy with too many tattoos and a facial piercing—but I’ve never been on the receiving end of that judgment. And I find myself ready to tell this guy off—tell my boss off—over his wrong impression.

  I have enough sense to bite my tongue against the flurry of venom I want to spew in his direction. Tell him all the ways Cade’s amazing and kind, but I don’t. I don’t care what this asshole thinks of him. Or me. Instead, I merely nod.

  “Yeah…I had a customer come in the other day and complain about him, says he just about broke his fucking arm.” His face is blank, giving nothing away, and I don’t know if he’s lying or not. My gut churns with apprehension, whispers floating through my mind that this is just one more thing he’s going to use to hang over my head.

  Swallowing back my unease, I say, “That customer had his hand on my ass, and Cade saw it. Stepped in.”

  “He had no business doing that.”

  “If you’d get a couple bouncers in here, the patrons wouldn’t have to get involved when one of your waitresses is groped.”

  He snorts, completely unfazed. “You want bodyguards, princess? Go to Roxy’s. You can’t handle yourself in here, go find another place to work.”

  My entire body goes rigid. “Are you firing me?”

  Stepping closer, his voice drops. “Not yet. I’m telling you to keep your freak of a boyfriend away from my business, you got that? All these little instances are adding up—you being late, mouthing off to the customers, your boyfriend roughing them up—and pretty soon we’re going to have an issue.”

  With a jerky nod, I turn and head to Cade, my skin crawling as I feel Randy’s eyes along my back, on my ass as I walk.

  By the time I get to Cade, his jaw is clenched, his eyes focused at the building behind me. “What’d he say to you?”

  “Nothing. Let’s just go.” I move to take my helmet, but he stops me with a hand on my wrist.

  “Winter.”

  Blowing out a deep breath, I say, “He’s pissed about the guy you bothered that first night. I guess he complained.”

  He stares into my eyes, waiting for me to continue. When I don’t, he says, “What else? There’s more.”

  “You can’t go in there anymore if you’re going to cause a scene every time. He’s cataloging everything I do, and you by extension. He’s going to fire me.”

  “Fuck,” he snaps. “If he’d hire some goddamn bouncers, I wouldn’t need to worry about it. Does he think his scrawny ass can deal with a situation if it comes up? Fucking asshole.”

  I look over my shoulder, seeing the outline of Randy still in the doorway. Putting my hand on Cade’s arm, I squeeze. With my voice lowered, I say, “Cade. Stop. He’s still out here. I don’t want to give him any more ammunition, okay? Let’s just go.”

  “Go? You wanna just go? What happened to the Winter who bites my head off when I step in? Where’s she at when her boss is being a complete shithead?”

  “She’s standing right in front of you, worrying about what would happen if she lost her fucking job. How she’d pay her bills. Well, guess what? She can’t. I need this job. You know that.” I step into him, grip his face in my hands. “It’s not for much longer. I just have to make it until graduation and then find something in my field.”

  His jaw is tight under my fingers, his eyes still blazing.

  I smooth my thumbs over his jaw, a little bit rough from his stubble. “Okay?”

  “I hate that fucking guy,” he grumbles, but accepts the kiss I place on his lips. Finally snapping out of it, he grips my hips, pulling me closer to him as he slants his mouth over mine, his tongue slipping between my lips. After a few minutes, he pulls back. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I tie my hair back, pull my helmet on as I slide in behind him. With my legs pressed tightly on the outside of his, my arms locked around his waist, my head tucked to his shoulder, I get lost to everything but the feeling of his strong body in front of mine, of the wind surrounding us, and the feeling of freedom that’s always present when I’m on this bike with him.

  cade

  I park in front of her building, waiting as she gets off the back of the bike. When her helmet’s off, her hair loose again around her, I ask, “When’s your first class tomorrow?”

  “Nine, why?”

  “Can I come in for a while?” I know it’s late. She’s just worked eight hours, probably wants to wash off the night, then crash immediately. But after the talk with Chef Foster, and then seeing Winter’s asshole boss harassing her, I’m too keyed up to go home and sleep.

  I need something. I need her.

  Standing to the side of my bike, she stares at me for a moment, before nodding and turning to go. I reach for her hand before she can get inside the front door, and she lets me hold on, twining our fingers together. She slides me looks out of the corner of her eye as she leads us down the hallway and into her apartment but doesn’t ask why my shoulders are so tense, why my jaw is clenched.

  Once we’re inside, she drops her bag, and I lean back against the door, scrubbing a hand over my face.

  “Hey.” She steps between my legs. “What else is going on? This isn’t just about Randy, is it?” Reaching up, she smooths her thumb between my eyes, then along my forehead. “If it is, you can’t let him get to you so much. He’s an asshole.”

  As I stare at her, it’s hard to believe this is the same girl from a few weeks ago. The one with the dead eyes and false smiles. I can hardly remember her, the mystery girl I wanted to know, however she’d let me. She’s softened, just a little. Just enough to let me in.

  I grab her hips, pulling her tight against me as I drop my head on her shoulder. “It’s been a shitty day.”

  She rubs her hand over my hair, up and down, up and down. “Yeah, I got that. Why’s it been so shitty?”

  Turning my head, I press my nose into the crook where her neck meets her shoulder and inhale. Open my mouth over the juncture and suck, my tongue flicking out to taste her. “Later,” is all I say as I continue peppering kisses over her skin.

  “No, Cade. Wait. Tell me.”

  “After.”

  “I stink like the pub.”

  “Better get you in the shower, then.” I don’t wait for her response before I grab her ass in both hands, hauling her up against me as I walk to her bathroom. I strip her quickly, then myself, and tug her into the shower before the water’s even heated. She yelps as the cold stream hits her, shooting me a glare over her shoulder.

  She probably wants slow. Easy. Soft and sweet. She deserves it. And I want nothing more than to give it to her. But I can’t. My mind is a tornado of chaos, thoughts about fucking up at school, letting my mentor down, of doing something with my life after I graduate so I can still help Tessa and Haley… So I can help provide for them like they deserve.

  As if that weren’t bad enough, seeing Winter’s boss talk to her after work was the last fucking straw. I was far enough away that I didn’t catch everything he said, but I heard enough to know I wanted to climb off my bike and slam him up against the wall, see how tough he was when he was facing off with someone other than a hundred and ten pound girl.

  I focus back on Winter, my eyes traveling down her body. I’d love t
o get on my knees for her here. Press her against the tile and lift her up until her thighs were on my shoulders and my mouth was on her pussy, licking every bit of her. But not tonight, not when all I can think about is fucking out everything I have boiling in my veins.

  I lift her easily, guiding her legs around my waist as I kiss and lick every part of her I can reach. Dipping my head, I suck one of her nipples into my mouth, letting my teeth scrape over it, giving her just a bit of pain to go with her pleasure. She gasps, her head falling back as she clutches me close. I switch sides, repeating the treatment on her other breast until she’s grinding against me. She shifts enough that the head of my cock slips just inside, and we both freeze, our panting breaths the only movement between us.

  “Don’t move. Fuck. Don’t move.”

  Feeling her like this, even this tiny bit, without a latex barrier between us is un-fucking-believable. I’ve never felt this. I’ve always worn a condom, never once gone without. But Jesus, feeling her heat, how wet she is… I want nothing more than to be with her like this, skin to skin. To feel her sweet pussy gripping me, pulsing around me when she comes. When I make her come.

  “It’s okay. Cade. It’s okay.” She pulls back, smoothing her hands down my cheeks, brushing aside the rivulets of water trailing down. Her eyes are so intense, so bright and full and alive. “It’s okay. I’m safe, and I’m on the pill.”

  And fucking hell, is she actually contemplating this with me? Just the thought has my words coming out jumbled. “Same. Me too. Christ, I mean, I’m not on the pill obviously, but I’m safe.” I’m a bumbling fucking idiot with the prospect of pure, unencumbered sex with the woman I love in front of me.