Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1)

by Barbara Freethy

  "We weren't that bad, just bored with high school, and eager to get on with our lives. I was actually happy that I ended up in detention, because it was the first time I really got to know your brothers and some of the other guys. We all grew up in the same town, went to the same schools, but the damn feud between our families spread across town in so many ways, making enemies of people who didn't even know each other."

  "That's true," she admitted.

  "But we all grew up with one thing in common—an expectation that we'd serve in some way."

  She nodded. "I've often felt guilty that I didn't join one of the military branches. I just never wanted to be a soldier." She paused. "And don't say the expectation was less for me because I'm a woman. I still grew up here. I grieved with families and friends who lost fathers and brothers and sons. I just didn't have it in me."

  His gaze met hers, understanding in his eyes. "It's not for everyone. You shouldn't feel guilty. We all contribute to the world in some way and feeding people is important."

  "You're being nice," she said, sipping her wine. "Is that because you're still trying to butter me up?"

  "I'm not trying to play you, Bailey. I believe what I just said. And frankly, my reasons for going into the Navy were not as altruistic as you might think. I wanted to fly really cool helicopters, and you know where you find those…"

  "In the Navy," she said with a smile, liking him even more for his honesty.

  "Exactly. Now, let's get back to what you were saying before we got off track. You had a conversation with Miss Woods?"

  "Yes. She told me she still remembered the paella that I made for the teachers' thank-you lunch my senior year in high school. After she tasted my food, it was completely clear to her why I had never been interested in history; I was destined to be a chef. It was nice to be reminded of just how far back my passion for cooking goes. In the pursuit of my ambitions, I forgot the joy that cooking brings me, whether it's for one person or a hundred. Anyway, between you and Miss Woods, you got me back in the kitchen again."

  "And you made an incredible meal." He cocked his head to the right, giving her a thoughtful look. "What happened in New York, Bailey?"

  "It's a long story."

  "We've got some time."

  "You already looked me up. You know most of it."

  "But not all of it."

  She didn't know what to think about his curiosity. He'd said he wasn't playing her, but was that completely true? Maybe he just wanted to get to know her so he could figure out how to manipulate her.

  Or…was she making him into Franco, the last man who'd wanted to get to know her and then had used her and thrown her away?

  "Bailey," he prodded.

  "I don't know if I can trust you, Ryder."

  "Do you need to trust me? It's only a matter of time before the news gets out. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's curious about your sudden return home. I doubt whatever you tell me will be a secret for long, if it even is now."

  She was glad he hadn't tried to persuade her to trust him. Somehow, it made him seem more trustworthy, which didn't really make sense, but it was the way she felt. "Fine. Here's the short version of the story. Last year, I had the opportunity to work as an executive chef for a world- renowned chef and restauranteur, Franco Dubois. It was exciting to be in his kitchen. He's a brilliant, talented, charismatic man, very handsome, very charming."

  "You fell in love with him."

  "Stupidly, yes. I knew that he'd been married and divorced, that there had been a lot of women in his life, but I thought I was different, that we had a special connection. It wasn't just personal; it was professional, too. When we cooked together, we created amazing dishes, and somehow that carried over into the idea that we could be amazing other places besides the kitchen."

  She sipped her wine, then continued. "When Franco offered me the opportunity to open a new French restaurant with him in Tribeca, I was thrilled. I spent months thinking about ingredients, scouring farms, talking to butchers and fishermen, planning the décor, finding the best of everything. The closer we got to opening day, the more strained my relationship with Franco became. We were bickering over menu designs and kitchen tiles and not spending any time together." She paused, thinking back over the last year. "I thought I could have it all, but I ended up with nothing."

  "Because something went wrong on opening day. How did the people get sick?"

  "We were in a rush. We never should have opened. We weren't ready. We'd had a lot of issues, but one in particular with one of our fish suppliers. I didn't like the fish we'd gotten that day. I told Franco we had to adjust the menu, go all meat and vegetables for opening night, but he said he would find a way to get some good fish, that it was part of his signature dish, which it was. I was too busy to think about what he was doing. In the end, he didn't get any new fish; he simply told the fish supplier who had provided the first bad batch to send some more over. He didn't check it when it came in, and neither did I. It was bad, and people got sick, and Franco told everyone that I knew the fish wasn't up to par and that I served it anyway. He went on to imply that I'd done it on purpose out of personal jealousy because he was seeing someone else, and I couldn't take it."

  The last part still stung, but it also made her angry.

  "He sucks," Ryder said bluntly.

  "He does."

  "Was he seeing someone else?"

  "Yes. I told you I was stupid."

  "Why didn't you tell the truth, Bailey? You're a woman who speaks her mind. Why didn't you fight for your reputation?"

  "I tried, but people were more interested in talking about my relationship with Franco and the A-list actress he'd been sleeping with while I was putting his restaurant together. I had thought work was what was coming between us, but it turns out there was a woman, too. Anyway, I just stopped answering my phone. I should have made a stronger statement about what happened. I was just so shocked and hurt and angry—not just at him but at myself."

  "I can understand that."

  "I wish I could go back and do things differently."

  "But you can't. You can only move forward. And for the record, it doesn't sound to me like you did anything wrong in the restaurant that night."

  "I probably should have checked the fish again. I was supposed to be watching everything that left the kitchen. I just assumed that because it was his signature dish, one that he actually took pride in making, that he had overseen it with an eye to every detail. But he was busy that night. He kept leaving the kitchen to talk to friends and food writers. I should have spoken up. I should have used my voice, which I'm beginning to realize now got quieter and quieter the longer I worked with him."

  She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Franco fired me to save the reputation of the restaurant, all the money he'd invested. He shut down after opening night, announced he had fired the entire staff, and that he would be reopening next month with an entirely new crew. I don't know if that will be enough to convince anyone to come back; I guess we'll see."

  "It would serve him right if no one came back. He's to blame for this, Bailey."

  "Even if he is, I feel badly for everyone who worked at the restaurant. We were a team, and Franco and I both let them down. At any rate, that's a longer version than I meant to tell you. It must be the wine; I'm way too talkative tonight."

  "Perhaps you needed to get it out."

  "Maybe. You're the first person I've told around here. Not even my family knows, although I'm going to have to tell them."

  "They'll have your back."

  "I know. I just wish they didn't have to. I hate making mistakes, Ryder. I hate it so much. I like to win."

  He gave her a smile of complete understanding. "I feel exactly the same way. You'll win again, Bailey; tonight was a start. You'll get back in a bigger kitchen; I'm sure of it. You are a stubborn Tucker after all."

  "I hope so." She licked her lips, curious to know more about him now that she'd spilled her guts. "Did you ever fall f
or the wrong person, Ryder?"

  "Not with the same kind of drama as your recent relationship, but I've gone out with a few women who would fall into the category of what were you thinking?"

  "Really. That's interesting. Tell me about one of them."

  "I don't really remember."

  "Yes, you do. Come on, I've already given you my talk of shame. You can share something."

  "All right. I dated one woman I thought was single, but she turned out to be married. And her husband was a Navy commander."

  "Ooh, that is not good, Ryder."

  "Definitely not good," he agreed.

  "How did you find out?"

  "We were at a restaurant and she left her phone on the table when she went to use the restroom. I saw a text message flash across the screen. I read it before I realized what I was doing. It was from her husband, asking her why she wasn't at her mother's house when she'd told him she was going there."

  "What happened next?"

  "I confronted her. She said she was bored and unhappy and that her husband was thirteen years older than her and she just wanted to have some fun. I told her we were done and I immediately left."

  "Did you get in trouble with the commander?"

  "No. I thought she might try to do something to hurt me, because she seemed a little vindictive when I ditched her in the restaurant, but I guess she couldn't turn me in without turning herself in, so that was that. Now, I make sure to look for rings and tan lines."

  "I can understand being wary after that. Did you like her? Did you love her?"

  He shook his head. "No, I didn't love her, and after I learned that she'd been lying to me, I realized I didn't like her all that much, either."

  "It's funny how feelings can change in an instant when someone's real face is unmasked. But then you have to ask yourself, is there anyone out there who isn't wearing a mask? Will I always be surprised or shocked or hurt by some revelation? How can I really trust my instincts, when they were so wrong before?" As the words flew out of her mouth, she knew she was revealing way too much, but it was too late to take anything back.

  Ryder placed his hand over hers, where it rested on the table. His fingers were warm, his touch both reassuring and unsettling. "You'll find a way to trust again—when it's the right person. You'll know what to look for. You'll know if you're seeing them for who they are or who you want them to be. And I'm not so sure that it's other people who are wearing the mask. Sometimes, I think it's us. We see what we want to see, what we need to see."

  "I never thought of it that way."

  "It's easier to blame the other person."

  "True, but Franco is to blame for a lot of the problems in my life. He's not innocent in this. Even if I didn't see him for who he is, he still did bad things."

  "Exactly. Now you're starting to take responsibility only for what you did, not for what he did." His fingers tightened around hers. "We have to own what's ours, but we don't have to carry what isn't ours. It took me a long time to figure that out."

  She wanted to ask him exactly how he'd figured it out when the oven timer went off, and she was reminded of the fruit tart she'd put in the oven before they'd sat down. "Dessert," she said, feeling a little cold as Ryder let go of her hand. "I hope you're still hungry."

  "Not right this second. Can it cool while we take a walk? We still have a lot of things to talk about."

  "A walk is a good idea." Leaving the intimacy of Ryder's cozy kitchen would be a good way to start putting some distance between them. She was starting to feel way too close to this man.

  As Ryder had just reminded her, it was easy to see what she wanted to see. And right now, she was seeing Ryder as one of the sexiest, most interesting men she'd met in a long time, and that was more than a little disconcerting.

  Six

  After putting the tart on the counter to cool, Bailey grabbed her jacket while Ryder shrugged on his coat, and they walked outside together. The air was cold, but the earlier clouds had parted, letting more moonlight and stars shine through. However, she was still happy that Ryder had grabbed a flashlight before they left the house, since the land next to his home was undeveloped.

  "I don't know this area very well," she said, as they walked across the lawn and through the trees. "You'll have to lead."

  "Happy to," he said, shining the light on the dirt path in front of them. "I know this part of town very well. My grandmother had her restaurant a half mile from here—Veronica's. Do you remember the place? Did you ever go there? Or was it off-limits because it was owned by a Westbrook?"

  "I remember Veronica's. We only went there once. I thought we didn't go there because it was expensive, but maybe it was because it was owned by your grandmother."

  "So why the one time? What was the occasion?"

  "It was a celebration for my mom. She had just gotten the part in the show Mother May I. She was leaving for Hollywood in the morning, and her friends threw her a party at Veronica's. The restaurant was so beautiful—rich and luxurious. I remember crystals and candles and the prettiest plates. I felt like I'd stepped into another world. It was definitely not like the diner."

  "My grandmother wanted people to feel like they were in a completely different reality when they stepped inside her restaurant. It might have been located in small-town America, but she wanted it to feel like it could be in New York or Paris. To be honest, I think it was a little pretentious, but that's the Westbrook way," he said dryly.

  She liked that he could be honest about his family, even though she didn't think Ryder was pretentious at all. In fact, he was much more down-to-earth than she would have imagined he'd be.

  "Tell me about your mom," Ryder continued. "I know she left to become a famous actress and that Zane and Adam weren't too thrilled about it. Since your parents ended up getting divorced, I'm guessing your dad didn't like it much, either."

  "At first, we were all excited. It was fun to think of my mom being on TV. We never really imagined that the show could turn into a huge hit, that it would run for eight years, that our mother, who had in fact left her own kids and husband behind, would become television's perfect mom. It was weirdly ironic."

  "Why didn't you all move to LA with her?"

  "My dad is a proud man. He didn't want to live off his wife's salary; he had the restaurant to run, and we were all in school. In the beginning, they both thought she'd be back in a few months. But months turned into years, and my mom's dreams kept coming true. She'd put aside being an actress for a long time. She'd spent years raising Adam, Zane, and me, and when this opportunity came up, she wanted it, and she took it. And no one was very happy about it. Were we the selfish ones, or was it her? Who knows?"

  "It sounds complicated. How did you feel about it?"

  She let out a sigh. "So many things. Excited, angry, sad, lonely, unsure… I was eleven when she left. I was coming into a really hard age. It was difficult to be without my mom, to be living with all guys—all clueless guys."

  He gave her a faint smile. "I can't even imagine."

  "They tried, but they didn't know what to do. My dad was angry with my mom, so he was caught up in that. Thank God Brenda was around. She was my mom's friend. She worked at the diner. She felt like a second mother to me. She took me to do all the things young girls need to do and that my father was embarrassed to even talk about."

  "Did you see your mom at all?"

  "I saw her quite a bit the first few years. I spent a couple of weeks each summer with her. My brothers were older, so they didn't go as often as I did. My mom's life was glamorous and beautiful—celebrities everywhere, money no object. It was a vastly different experience than living in Eagle's Ridge. But my mom was busy a lot of the time, too. She didn't just have the TV show; she had lots of other opportunities. Soon, she was making movies and traveling to film festivals. When I was in LA, I spent more time with the housekeeper than with her. Eventually, we all realized she wasn't coming back. As much as she claimed to love us all, she had a li
fe she loved more. By the time my parents divorced, the boys were grown and out of the house, and while my parents shared custody of me, my mom didn't fight to see me more than was convenient to her."

  "You must have been hurt and angry."

  "I was, but I still loved her. And as I got older, I started to see there was another side. My dad could have moved for her. It really shouldn't have been all on her to keep us together. But maybe I'm not being fair to my dad when I say that, because he was there for me, and she wasn't. It's complicated."

  "Is she in your life now?"

  "Not really. We occasionally text, or she'll invite me to something, but I don't go, and our communication dies as quickly as it starts. She remarried a few years ago. She has her own life, and I have mine." She paused. "I think my mom's leaving spurred on my cooking career, though. My dad was so busy at the diner after she left, and he was so caught up in his pain that he kind of overlooked my brothers and me. I started cooking dinner, because I was tired of always having to go to the diner to get food, and then one day my dad started coming home for dinner, and somehow we found our way back to being a family again—even without her."

  "That was because of you."

  "No one gives me credit for that, but yes it was because of me. And I don't know what it is about you that makes me want to talk so much, Ryder."

  He smiled. "Is it me or just being home again? It makes you think about the life you used to lead. At least, coming back here has done that to me."

  She was happy not to be the only one feeling nostalgic. "I suppose it is partly that and also because I feel like I'm facing a transition point. I was on one road the last two years and I crashed into a brick wall. I have to back up and decide if I want to take another road or fix that one."

  "What are you leaning toward?"

  "Picking another road. I could never trust Franco again. I guess I have to decide if that road goes back to New York or somewhere else. I have to say having to choose where I want to be reminds me of my mother and the choices she made between family and ambition."