Hired: The Cinderella Chef

by Myrna Mackenzie

  Right now, however, Cal’s future plans weren’t Patrick’s concern. The man was leaning toward Darcy. “Keep working,” Barrow told his men. “I need more dirt right around here.” And he picked up a handful of dirt and threw it where he wanted it, but some of it fell on Darcy.

  “Oops,” he said. “My apologies.” But his tone sounded anything but apologetic. Instead he seemed…smug and satisfied.

  Patrick was still fifty yards away. “Barrow!” he yelled as he charged toward the man. “Back off. You go near her again and you’ll be missing your head.”

  The man whirled toward Patrick. “Back off, yourself, Judson. This is my property.”

  Patrick crossed his arms and looked down at the shorter man. “You are such a boring, sadistic creep, Barrow, and you’re also wrong. The sidewalk and the parkway are public property. Darcy has every right to be here,” he said, moving closer to the man, crowding him.

  “But those kinds of technicalities don’t matter to jerks like you, do they? I wonder what does matter to you. Those shops you run? So what would your customers think about your bully status? I can get that information to them in a matter of hours.”

  “Judson,” the man said with a sneer. “You social snobs who have roots going back two hundred years think you’re better than the rest of us, but…look at this woman. She doesn’t have a pedigree. I’ve checked out every single person who lives in your pet project. Most of them are human mutts, too, so don’t use that high-horse tone with me.”

  A red rage formed in Patrick’s brain when Cal called Darcy a mutt. He drew back his fist. The man was lower than dirt and he was going to pay.

  “Don’t. Patrick don’t hit him. Do not, under any circumstances, do that.” Darcy’s voice was soft. She spoke in a low command, not a yell, but her words effectively stopped Patrick’s forward movement.

  He turned to her, and Cal Barrow faded from his view. “Darcy, I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

  “Then don’t hit him. You can’t. If you do, you’ll make the news. Able House will receive bad press. Right now, other than the dirt, he hasn’t done anything he could be charged with. His insults are protected by the First Amendment.”

  Of course. All that police academy training. She would automatically assess whether or not a crime had been committed.

  Cal laughed, an ugly sound. Patrick tensed as hot anger flowed through him, but he didn’t hit the man. “Listen to the little lady,” Barrow told Patrick. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Patrick’s anger escalated. Violence had never been a part of Patrick’s life, but right now he wanted to let this guy have it in the worst way. He felt his control shredding. “Stay away from her,” he said again.

  “Patrick,” Darcy said, and once again he forced control on himself. He focused only on her. “I want you to know this,” she continued. “If he had touched me, I could take care of myself. I’m trained as a police officer, and knowing that my chair might hamper my ability to control the situation in case of an attack, one of the first things I did was bone up on self-defense.”

  Doubts assailed Patrick, and now—with this instance—and with the knowledge that he would soon be leaving her alone, he had to know. Had to hear it again. Would she say something just to keep him from getting hauled off to jail, to protect him?

  He was pretty sure she would, but—

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “I could have him on the ground if I needed to.”

  “Did Jared teach you that?”

  “No, I learned this skill before I met him.”

  He was staring straight into her dark, expressive eyes now. He was going to have to believe what he saw there.

  Cal laughed again, but Patrick wasn’t laughing. He turned to Cal. “I wouldn’t push it with Darcy. If she says she could take you down, it’s true.”

  “I’d like to see her try.”

  “Then you’ll see it. No complaints if I win?” she asked.

  “Hah, you can’t win!”

  “Swear that you’re inviting this,” she ordered. “That this is an agreement, not an assault on my part.”

  Barrow laughed. “Like you’re really gonna hurt me. Yeah, try it.”

  “Your call.” She rolled forward. “Just try to knock me out of my chair. Go ahead.”

  Okay, that was enough, Patrick thought. He believed in her, but he wasn’t going to let her mix it up with this guy. Even if she won, she still might get knocked about some.

  But maybe nothing was going to happen, anyway. Barrow was looking sheepish. “No.”

  “Yes. Try it. Do it.” She motioned for Cal to “come on.”

  “Hell,” Patrick said. He hadn’t thought it would get this far. “Darcy…”

  Without warning, several things happened in quick succession. Barrow swore, something about stupid females. He roared and made a quick feint her way.

  Darcy yelled, “Back off!” Then she slammed the heel of her hand hard against his face, snapping his head back. When he reeled, she hit him in the groin with her other fist.

  Patrick barely registered what had happened, it took place so fast. But Cal was down on the ground, in the dirt, groaning, rolling, swearing, holding himself, trying to call Darcy names and keep from retching at the same time. “I’ll sue!” The words he choked out were barely recognizable as words.

  “Too late. I have your agreement on video,” she said, pulling her camera phone from where she had slipped it into a loose pocket. “You have to pay attention when you’re angry, Mr. Barrow, and not let yourself be distracted. You might miss something…like a woman holding a camera phone like this.” She demonstrated how she had held the phone low at her side so that it was barely visible, but obviously effective. “Yeah, the picture’s a little crooked, and it might not stand up in court, but I doubt a jury would convict me. What’s more, do you really want anyone to know that I knocked you down? That would be sooo bad for your tough guy reputation, wouldn’t it?”

  Cal’s response was to simply glare at her.

  “Can we go now, Patrick?” she asked with a tense smile.

  Without another word, they moved away together. They were almost to the front door of Able House and well out of Cal Barrow’s view when Patrick stopped. He dropped his head for a full three seconds and let the blackness and fear that had enveloped him when he’d seen Barrow come at her take over. He counted to ten. Then, slowly, he straightened and looked her right in the eye. “If you ever do something like that again—Darcy, my heart completely stopped. If it hadn’t worked and he had hurt you—”

  “If he had hurt me, then, you could have hit him and I wouldn’t have stopped you. Then, it would have been a case of you protecting me from actual harm, not from his nasty words. You wouldn’t have gone to jail for that or had your reputation damaged.”

  They had resumed their slow, forward movement, but now at the entrance to the building, Patrick leaned against the bricks and looked up to the sky. “You were protecting my reputation?”

  “Someone had to do it. Heavens, Patrick, you were going to slug the guy over a little dirt and a bit of name calling.”

  “Darcy.” He slid to his knees and took her face between his big palms. “You amaze me. Constantly. It wasn’t just a bit of name calling. His words were ugly.”

  Her smile was tremulous. “Oh. You.” As if that meant anything at all. “I’ve been called worse than that.”

  Which totally slayed him. He couldn’t bear to think of her being subjected to that kind of thing, having to swallow insults. But…how could he tell her that? That he wanted to, needed to protect her if that ever happened again. She valued her independence so much, and heck, she had just knocked Cal Barrow on his rear end. What’s more, she had been totally right about Cal not wanting the world to know about his humiliation, but Patrick still didn’t trust the guy. Cal knew how to make nice when it suited his purpose. He had no problems lying in order to win people over and make Darcy and Able House a target if he
had a good enough reason. Now he had a real reason.

  Concern washed over Patrick, and still framing her face, he brushed his thumbs over Darcy’s soft skin. Her silky curls twined around his fingers.

  She was so close. He was so worried about her. Patrick had one thought. He wanted to tumble her onto his lap, he needed to kiss her silly and hold her tight so that he could—finally—convince himself that she was safe and secure. Once he had her up against his heart, no one could touch her. He was on the verge of putting his thoughts into action when the sound of a slamming car door halted him.

  Patrick looked up. He rose to his feet. Jared was sliding from his car into his chair. Had to be Jared. Up until now, Patrick had only seen pictures of the man. They didn’t do him justice. His hair was California sun gold, his skin tanned, his biceps were the biceps of a man who worked out long and hard and often.

  The man rolled toward them, but Patrick’s focus was on Darcy, not on the man he was meeting for the first time. She was smiling, holding out both hands. “You made it,” she said.

  Jared gave her a long-suffering look. “Of course, I made it here, Darcy. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “That car…” she said. Patrick gave the car another look. It was long and sleek and black and obviously expensive. “That’s the kind of car that makes you a target and you know it as well as I do. If someone tries to take that car from you, they just might—”

  “Darcy, no mothering,” Jared said.

  She winced a bit at the word, and Jared looked as if he’d hit a bird.

  Patrick ground his teeth. “Darcy,” he said, but she held up her hand.

  “Hell, Darcy, I’m sorry,” Jared continued, “I know better than to use that word with you, but your…your nurturing when you know I can take care of myself…”

  “I know,” she said. “You’re right. It’s your car, your choice.”

  “And if you were the one with the expensive car…” Jared continued.

  “You’re right again,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t let you caution me about driving it.”

  “You’d bust my teeth out if I even suggested you couldn’t protect yourself or your vehicle.” Jared swung his head toward Patrick. “He must be the man who makes all this possible,” he said, gesturing toward the building.

  Darcy rushed forward to make introductions.

  Patrick shook his head. “I supplied the start-up money and a little more. Everyone here supplies the work.”

  Jared nodded. “Sorry about losing my temper there, but Darcy gets a little overprotective. That’s hard to take when she won’t let the pendulum swing the other way.”

  “Tell me about it,” Patrick said.

  “So, you’ve tried to protect her, too?” Jared asked.

  “Hello,” Darcy said. “I’m right here, you two. You don’t have to talk as if I’m not in the vicinity when I’m a living, breathing person, and I can hear you perfectly.”

  Patrick gave her a sheepish grin. Jared didn’t even look slightly ashamed.

  “So…maybe we should go inside so Jared can get settled in,” Darcy continued.

  “Bossy,” Jared added as he followed her in. “But very cute,” he told Patrick. As Darcy moved ahead, Jared lagged behind a bit, so Patrick waited.

  “Too bad she doesn’t want a relationship, right?” Jared asked. “Oh, but I’m gonna keep trying. You can’t blame a guy for that, can you?” His tone was teasing, but the fact that he had made such a statement at all…

  Patrick wasn’t sure if Jared was merely being overly friendly or if he was trying to find out if Patrick would be a vindictive landlord if he shared Jared’s interest in Darcy. Either way, it didn’t change the score for Patrick. Dating Jared or not, Darcy was still off-limits. And after that episode with Cal Barrow, Patrick was even more worried about her.

  “I can’t blame you, but I’m sure you already know that Darcy’s her own woman who makes up her own mind,” Patrick said. Even so, he was definitely going to have to take action and make sure she was protected from volatile, hostile and possibly vindictive people like Cal. But if he did that…knowing how much she wanted, no needed to be in charge, would she hate him? Her need went beyond a mere desire for independence. It was a desire to be seen as a person who had overcome all those bad things that had happened to her. Single-handedly. If he took that from her, she might hate him.

  And he might have to live with that…thousands of miles from her. His departure for France was less than two weeks away.

  Darcy was in the kitchen alone three days later when Patrick came in suddenly. The expression on his face was so strange, so unreadable, so not like Patrick that—

  “What is it?” Darcy asked. “Is it one of the girls?” Already her heart was breaking for him. She rolled forward.

  Quickly he shook his head. “They’re fine.”

  “Then what?” She was afraid she didn’t want to know. But she had to know.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m going.”

  “I know. In less than two weeks.”

  “No. The day after tomorrow. Change of scheduling. I just found out.” And without another word he dropped onto a nearby chair, pulled her onto his lap and dragged her up against his chest. She looped her arms around his neck as he kissed her.

  Desire and sadness and panic filled Darcy’s heart as she tasted him, as he consumed her. Hungrily she kissed him back.

  “Why so soon?” she asked as they came up for air.

  “There’s a gathering of government officials and community groups taking place in Madrid. Our project is being hailed as a good way to promote tourism and philanthropy and they want to know more. My presence has been requested.”

  Darcy tried a tremulous smile. “Publicity for your cause? That’s…wonderful. It’s what you’ve wanted.”

  “Yes. It’s what I want.”

  But still he held her. He kissed her throat. He stroked her skin, his thumb brushing her breast, making her ache.

  “It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he said, and now his voice sounded vaguely angry.

  “Patrick?”

  “Darcy, look at me. I’m sorry I’m manhandling you like this. I didn’t even ask your permission. Again,” he said as he eased her back into her chair. “I hope you know that I would never ask you to do anything that made you uncomfortable.”

  “I could have made you stop if I wanted you to.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Yes. You could have, but still…I don’t want you to believe—I’ll try not to let it happen again,” he repeated.

  No. There wouldn’t be a chance for anything to happen between them, even if she wanted it to, Darcy thought with tears clogging her throat. Because he would be gone.

  Somehow she had to live with that. She had to get past it, to make his last day here special and happy. A celebration.

  It was time to put her plan in action. The only problem with the plan was…she had no time to plan.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PATRICK was going slowly insane. This was the day he had been anticipating for years, and now that it was here, all he could think about was Darcy.

  He’d run out of time with her, and…tension suffused his soul. That tension wasn’t personal, he told himself. No, because that would be crazy. He and Darcy were polar opposites. They wanted different things. He was finally getting his freedom, a chance to fly free and explore his wild side. That would bring him and his company lots of attention, but it wouldn’t be good for someone like Darcy. She hated attention, and this kind—it would be worse than what she was used to. It would involve celebrity. People wouldn’t just be curious about her chair. They would want to know everything about her. They would dig up the school story, the fiancé story, the miscarriage story.

  He frowned at that. He could never subject Darcy to that. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want anyone else to hurt her, either, he thought, remembering Cal Barrow.

  Darcy might have bested the guy this time, but what
about the next time or the next Cal Barrow?

  “I’ll take care of that,” he promised himself. Already a plan was in motion. That plan didn’t make him feel any better about leaving Darcy tomorrow, but it was the best he could do on such short notice.

  But his departure was still hours away. And Darcy was somewhere in the house. He could at least talk to her one more time.

  Patrick opened the door of his study and stepped into the hallway.

  The scent of sage and thyme and something roasting drifted to him. He breathed in and followed the aromatic trail. Cinnamon, nutmeg, coffee. Oh, yes, coffee. He would know that particular blend that Darcy brewed blindfolded.

  He turned the corner.

  And there they were. His family. All of them, his sisters and his brothers-in-law, seated around the table in front of a sumptuous candlelit meal. A small table had been set up for Charlie and Davey far away from the threat of candles and burns. Someone had put out little plates decorated with farm animals for them, and Charlie was leading Davey in a game of “what sound does this animal make?”

  A banner hung over the doorway. It read, Happy Adventures, Patrick! Another one in the other doorway said simply, We’ll Miss You. On the wall a long ribbon had been strung with photos of him and the girls over the years.

  A large lump formed in Patrick’s throat. “Well,” he said. “What’s all this?”

  “It’s your going-away dinner, big brother,” Amy said, her voice a bit thick and teary. Patrick went to her and gave her a big brotherly hug.

  “It’s not forever,” he said.

  “It feels like forever,” Cara said. “You’ll be gone for six months and when Lane leaves in two weeks…nothing will be the same.”

  “I’ll miss you, too,” he told his sisters. “Like mad. Now, who’s idea was this? Lane?”

  “No. Not me. Cara and Amy and I were too upset to think straight. We might have managed a meal at a restaurant, but—this was all Darcy. She dug out the photos, and she handled all the decorations and the food. She wanted us to have one last special night together.”