by Jacie Lennon
“The Stroffs’ boy is back home now, going into the firm with his father,” she says.
I feel Pepper tense beside me.
“Jeremy?” she asks, her voice coming out a squeak.
“Yes, that’s the one. He’s turned out to be quite the handsome man. Really took after his father.”
Pepper nods and continues eating.
“When do you think you’ll be back home to visit? He wants to take you on a date, I think.” Pepper’s mom keeps nonchalantly shoveling food into her mouth like she didn’t just punch me in the gut.
I know guys are interested in Pepper. They have to be with her looks, but I didn’t think her parents were actively trying to set her up on dates.
Pepper turns a darker shade of red beside me as she brings her drink to her mouth, taking a long gulp, cutting her eyes my way.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mom. I’m really liking it here,” she says before trailing off.
I know if she looks at me too long, she will see my thoughts written all over my face. I should have picked option one. I should have bowed out of this meal from hell.
“Well, I’ll tell him you can’t wait,” Mrs. Stratten says.
Beside her, Mr. Stratten makes a noise in his throat. I can’t really decipher it, but he doesn’t seem as enthused as Pepper’s mom does about the arrangement.
“Couldn’t you let her get through school first, Sophie, before trying to marry her off?” he asks.
Sophie harrumphs. I don’t think I’ve actually ever heard someone harrumph, but Sophie can do it with the best of them.
“Mom, Dad, I really appreciate you trying to plan my life out for me,” Pepper says sarcastically before clearing her throat, recovering. “But I’m a big girl.”
Pepper sits up taller in her chair, and I lower my head and grin.
Big girl, my ass. Can’t even tell her parents she’s struck out on her own.
I nudge Pepper with my knee again, and this time, I get a nudge back. This is almost a comedy routine, but I’m not sure Pepper wants to laugh right now.
“So, when do we go on this tour?” Mr. Stratten raises his eyebrows.
“Tour?” Pepper asks.
“Yes, you told me you would show us around your school,” Sophie says.
I lean back, letting out a large sigh. “Pepper, that was delicious. You should make meals around here more often,” I tell her, trying to take some of the heat off her.
“Thank you, Ben,” she says, flushing again and not looking at me.
Interesting.
18
Pepper
“Pepper? What’s going on? You’re acting strange,” Mom asks, laying her fork down.
I feel so awkward, and I cut my eyes to the side, not looking at anyone. I shouldn’t have told Ben it was okay for him to be here. This is embarrassing as hell.
“Pepper?” My dad’s voice cuts through my avoidance fog, and I look up, seeing both of their confused expressions. “Are you feeling all right? You’ve gone white.”
Mom stands up to touch the back of her hand to my forehead like I’m a child.
“I’m fine,” I say and then clear my throat.
Ben presses his leg against mine, and I look over to see him giving me two thumbs-up underneath the table. I grin and then try to conceal it before my parents think I’ve officially lost it.
“Mom, Dad, I have something I need to tell you.”
They both sit there with expectant looks on their faces, and I decide to just do it, consequences be damned.
“I’m not going to Vanderbilt.” It comes out in a rush, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe, but I’m free at the same time.
“What?” they both say and then look at each other.
“What do you mean, you aren’t going to Vanderbilt?” Mom’s voice comes out high-pitched.
I cringe. “Well, I should have told you before—”
“Yes, you should have. What are you doing with our money?” My dad’s gruff tone makes me pause before the anger sets in.
“I haven’t touched the money you gave me. I’m using my own money for tuition to culinary school.”
Silence hangs in the air over us. I can’t look away from my parents, but the child in me wants to run and hide in my room.
If you are big enough to get yourself into this mess, you are big enough to get yourself out.
“Culinary school?” Mom says, eyes wide.
“What money?” Dad asks.
“Yes,” I say, crossing my arms. “I sold some stock I had in Stratten Enterprises, and I’m using it for tuition.”
“You sold your stock?” Dad’s voice rises, and I cringe.
Ben stands up beside me, murmuring something about going to check on Danger, who is not even ten feet away from us.
“I’m sorry I kept this from you. I was so scared of disappointing you both, and I know how you planned for me to take over the business once Dad retires, but … that’s not what I want.”
“That’s not what you want,” Dad says incredulously. “Why wouldn’t you just tell us that?”
“No,” I state firmly, “it’s not what I want. I have told you that before. You’ve just never listened.”
“Honey, we didn’t think you were very serious,” Mom says, leaning to place her hand on my arm where it’s tapping the top of the table. “We thought it was more of a hobby of yours. I know how much you enjoyed baking with your grandma.”
“I thought you would try to talk me out of it,” I say, fighting the urge to look away from them.
“It was a really stupid decision—” Dad starts to say.
“Patrick,” Mom says, cutting him off.
“It wasn’t smart of you to sell your stock without talking to us.” He amends his statement, and I wince.
“I know. I just wanted to do something by myself for once.”
“I’m very disappointed that you’ve been lying to us,” Dad says.
My heart sinks. I knew it was coming, but to actually hear it from him and see the hurt on their faces, it breaks my heart.
“This culinary school, it’s what you want to do?” Mom questions.
I nod slowly. “Yes, I’m loving it so much already. We’re in the kitchen, making food, every single day. I’ve already made a friend.” I start oversharing to hide my feelings.
“What about your duty to the family and keeping the business alive?” Dad asks.
I reach up, nervously tucking my hair behind my ear.
“Patrick,” Mom warns again, “this is not the 1800s. Pepper can become whatever she wants to be.” She turns her attention back to me. “I just wish you had come to us first. I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
A frown creases her forehead, and my eyes widen. She must be running late on Botox injections. My mother is nothing if not a well put-together woman at all times.
“Dad, I’m not cut out to take over your business. I don’t want to become a CEO. I break out in hives when I think about it. I’m happiest in the kitchen, putting ingredients together to make delicious food. And, Mom, you’re right. I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”
My shoulders slump as I realize how much I built this up in my head. I didn’t think my parents would yell at me or throw me out on the streets. I’m a people-pleaser, and the thought of them not being happy with me, with my decisions, cuts into my very soul. I can’t decide if it’s a flaw or not.
I should want people to be happy with me, but at what cost to myself? When do I put myself first and make myself happy too? That’s what I’m attempting to do with this move, this school, this new adventure. I just hope my parents can see that.
“Yes, you shouldn’t have,” Mom agrees, and Dad nods.
I sit there, feeling like I’m five years old again. I look around and notice that Ben has disappeared, letting me take care of this on my own, and I’m grateful that he’s not witnessing my sad show of an apology to my parents.
“It’s going to be hard for us to trust
you again.” Mom’s eyes fill with tears, and I reach for her hand.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I let things get out of control. I thought it would be easier not to tell you, and once I didn’t, I just kept going and going. I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I’ve been so stupid.”
“Pepper, I’ve never wanted to pressure you into anything. I’ve never wanted you to feel like you had to do something to make me or your mother happy,” Dad says. “We love you, and we want you to do what you love. I wish you had been up-front about not wanting to go into the family business.”
“You’re right. Again, I’m sorry.”
“We still love you, Pepper.” Mom stands, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pulling me in.
I feel a tear escape, sad about the pain I just caused them.
I’m such an idiot.
A door closes down the hall, and Ben walks back into the room as Mom lets me go, sitting back down. I watch him head into the living room, still giving us space, and a thought hits me from out of the blue.
Now that I’ve had a taste of freedom and what being happy is, I want to continue making myself as happy as possible. I think telling Ben how I feel would do that. I’ve come clean on one lie, so why shouldn’t I come clean to Ben about my feelings?
I rub my sweaty palms against my legs, the absence of cloth not doing much to soak up the liquid, more like I’m just smearing it from one skin surface to another.
“We love you, Pepper. Thanks for telling us the truth,” Mom says, and I bring my attention back to them.
“I love y’all,” I say with a smile, looking them both in the eyes, relieved to finally have everything out in the open.
“I have reservations for dinner tomorrow. Is that okay?” Dad asks, his eyebrows raised at me.
“Yeah, sure.” I smile brightly. I blocked off the entire weekend for them, so I’m as free as a bird.
My dad’s face morphs into a frown as I notice Mom’s elbow is lodged directly into his stomach region. He grimaces, and frankly, he looks a bit constipated.
“Would you like to come as well, Ben?” He pastes what could pass for a smile on his face as he looks at the guy in the living room.
Ben glances at me and then shakes his head. “I’m good. Y’all have your family time,” he says, and my dad looks visibly relieved.
I sigh in contentment, happy that I made the right decision. And now, I’m going to go get my happily ever after. Right after my parents leave.
19
Ben
This morning, Pepper left with her parents to show them around Nashville, and I bowed out of going. She shot me a glare as if she couldn’t believe that I would leave her alone, but after yesterday’s meal, my nerves are shot. I had hoped to meet her parents under better circumstances, and it would have been fantastic if they had known about me beforehand.
I just want to hit the gym and work out some of this tension. I decide to call Mason and see if he wants to meet me at the gym.
“Mason,” I say as soon as he answers the phone. “You up for some gym time?”
I know he’s not on shift right now, but Ezra and Craig are.
“Sorry, man. Promised Jules a day together.”
I nod before realizing he can’t see me.
“All right. Have a good one.”
I throw my phone on my bed and watch Danger jump up to curl on top of my pillow.
“Whaddaya say, big guy? Wanna go for a run?”
Danger’s head perks up, and his tongue lolls out while I hunt around for his leash and harness. There’s a nice running trail about a block down from the apartment, and I plan to make good use of it. Well, as much as I can in the humid heat of the South in September.
After heading out, I let my feet pound the pavement, and I try to clear my mind of all things related to Mark or Pepper. Out here, I’m just a regular guy with zero problems. The sweat pours down my back, and I can see Danger wilting after two miles. It’s too hot out here, even for him, and I slow to a walk, the tension still crawling up my spine. I kick myself for not going to the gym.
As soon as we get back to the apartment, I strip my clothes off and shower. I contemplate jerking off, but I know it won’t help. It can’t compare to the real thing. My body wants to feel soft skin, and my hands want to wrap around long, dark hair. My eyes want to see deep brown eyes staring up at me and a smile curving that luscious mouth up. All for me. I ache to sink my fingers into her skin, run my hands along the curve in her back, feast my eyes upon her breasts, and taste her neck as it arches back while I touch her everywhere.
I groan and flop down on my bed. Hell, I even offered to get naked with her the other day, and she couldn’t get out of my presence fast enough. Covering my eyes with my arm, I attempt to erase the images from my mind, but it’s no use. I’ve got it bad for my roommate. My delicious, sexy, curvy, soft, hot-as-hell roommate.
Pepper
Once my parents’ visit is over, I feel extremely happy that I told them the truth. A huge weight is off of me, and I don’t feel such anxiety over my decision anymore. I could tell that Dad still wasn’t thrilled with my choice, and he is holding on to the idea that I’m going to change my mind, but Mom was supportive of culinary school. However, they both were sad that I’d kept everything from them. I think it will take some time for our relationship to get back to normal, but I decide not to lie again. It’s not worth it.
This morning, I got up and got ready for class. I didn’t see Ben, so our conversation will have to wait.
I’m trying to focus on the instructor at the front of the room, going over what we are making for the day. The slides show tiramisu and a baked apple crumble. We will be judged on technique, flavor, and presentation. Desserts are my forte, and I can’t wait to be elbow deep in flour and sugar and all sorts of delicious confections.
The day passes with peeling apples, mixing egg whites with mascarpone cheese, and separately assembling the two delicious desserts.
Before I know it, I’m running to the restroom to throw on some jeans and a nice shirt, so I can try to make it through rush-hour traffic in Nashville to my interview and possibly first evening on the job. This will be my first real job, and I plan on kicking butt at it.
The interview is short and to the point, and apparently, I give the right answers because they hire me on the spot. They show me what they expect, and I spend my shift cleaning paint, restocking art supplies, ringing customers up, and setting up tables for each new paint enthusiast who comes through the door.
I’m exhausted but happy as I make it home and trudge through the front door, stopping short as I see Ben sitting on the couch, remote in one hand and a water in the other.
“Hey,” he says, glancing up with a smile.
My heart stops.
Lady. Killer.
“Hi,” I say back brightly, dropping my bag on the coffee table and walking around it to sit on the other end of the couch. I toe my shoes off and prop my feet up on the table, sighing as I lay my head back and close my eyes.
“Rough night?”
His deep voice makes my ears perk up, and I peek an eye open.
“Just a long day … and night.” I grin and close my eye.
His chuckle warms me, and I hear him lean forward to set something down.
“First day at work, right?”
I raise my head and open my eyes, looking at him as he stares back at me. I feel like something is off, a weird tension to the air but I continue talking, “Yep, it was good. After the interview went well, they started training me, but it’s really not that hard. The computer checkout system was the most confusing thing, but I figured it out.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything else.
The mood in the room has gotten weird, so I fill the silence with nervous chatter. “I saw some really cute pieces tonight. One girl did a little woodland theme with foxes and deer and even a bear. She was really talented. Someone even painted a piece that looked like a ceramic Christmas tree, whi
ch I thought was odd because it’s the first day of September now, but to each their own, I guess.” I shrug. “Anyway, what have you done today?” I expectantly look at him and notice a cute grin on his face.
“Not much other than watch TV,” he says.
I stifle a laugh. “You like reality TV?”
“Nah, not really. But there’s not a lot on other than this and game shows or cooking shows during the day.”
“You should have watched a cooking show. It would have been supremely better than trashy reality TV—other than medical shows, and you can’t call those trashy because I love them. You might have even learned something about cooking.”
“Something wrong with my cooking?”
“Well, I’ve never tasted your food.”
“Looks like I need to prove myself.”
“What would you cook for me?” I lay my head back on the couch and clasp my hands across my stomach.
“Bucatini with marinara and ricotta.”
“Dang, that was quick. Already been thinking about it?”
“Nah, it’s comfort food. My mom used to make it for us every Sunday.” He mimics my pose by putting his feet up on the table in front of us and laying his head back, crossing his arms over his stomach, which I know is rock hard and I now have an intense urge to run my tongue down it.
“It sounds delicious,” I murmur, my body tensing as I think about telling him that I want to pursue us.
You only live once, right?
“So, I’ve got a date on Friday night,” he says.
My entire body freezes, heart sinking.
What? You have a what on Friday night?
I think I must have misheard him. I know he hasn’t ever indicated that we’re anything more than friends, but I mean, sometimes, I catch him staring at me a beat longer than necessary. And I did meet his parents.
Oh God. Maybe that means I’m not that important to him if it wasn’t a big deal for me to meet his parents.
I resist the urge to gape at him, and I force myself to remain calm, cool, and collected.