"Have you ever talked to her about it?"
"Not as an adult, no."
"Maybe you should—if you think she'll give you an answer, of course. If I asked my mother anything more serious than what's for dinner, she'd start panicking, reaching for her not-so-secret stash of cigarettes or another glass of wine. And then she would change the subject and that would be the end of that."
She shot him a quick look, hearing a touch of anger in his voice. "So, life isn't always wonderful at the Westbrook's?"
He uttered a short, harsh laugh. "It is wonderful, because no one ever challenges the idea that it's not. My parents don't talk about feelings. Neither does my grandfather. If you have a problem, you keep it to yourself, and you solve it on your own. That's the way it works."
"Sounds a little rough."
"Rough makes you tough—another truism from my grandfather. Have you ever spoken to him?"
"No, I've probably only seen him a few times in my life or in the local paper when he was being praised for something. Is your grandfather well?"
"Yes. His body might be moving a little slower, but his mind is still sharp." He pulled some bushes away from the path. "Watch your step."
"Thanks." As she moved past the bushes, she got a great view of the river. The path they were on was about six feet above the water, but she was reminded again of how high the river was running. "I guess there was a lot of rain this winter. The river is running high."
"Yes, there's some concern about flooding if we continue to get more storms, but hopefully that won't happen."
"Hopefully not."
"Your brothers are probably happy about the river level. It should make for a better season for A To Z Watersports."
"That's true."
"Do you raft and kayak like your brothers?"
"I did when I was younger. Adam and Zane and I were river rats. We did everything we could on the river. But it's been awhile for me." She paused, spying a building to the left and up a small hill. "Is that the restaurant?"
"Yes. That's Veronica's."
"Can we take a closer look?"
"Sure."
"When did it close?" she asked, following him up the hill.
"When my grandmother died twelve years ago. My grandfather couldn't bear to sell it or rent it out, so he just locked the doors, and it has sat empty ever since."
"That seems a shame."
"He couldn't stand the idea of someone else running Veronica's or changing it into something else. It was her passion. She didn't open the restaurant until she was in her fifties. It was something she'd always thought about doing, but she wasn't a chef, so she wasn't quite sure how to get started. Finally, my grandfather told her to stop complaining about there not being any good food in town and open up a restaurant, so she did. She worked with several different chefs over the next twenty-five years, and she loved planning the menus, hosting events, being the special place people went to for their special meals. In the last few years of her life, she was barely in the restaurant, but she still kept an eye on the menu, and she would occasionally drop in unexpectedly to make sure her standards were being met."
"She sounds like a dedicated restauranteur. Not all restaurant owners care that much."
"She was definitely devoted to the restaurant and my grandfather was devoted to her. The only time in my life that I ever saw him blink back a tear was when she died. That's it. And it lasted about two seconds. But they were married for over fifty years."
"My grandparents were married that long, too," she said, wondering what that would feel like. She couldn't even imagine.
"So, here it is," Ryder said, as they stepped onto the brick patio that had once given diners a beautiful view of the river during hot summer nights.
"I don't remember this patio."
"You probably came in the winter."
Her gaze swept across the building: the peeling paint, the fading shutters, and the vine-colored walls. It saddened her to see the restaurant all closed up, a shell of its once vibrant self. "It feels like it's waiting to be rediscovered. To have another time to shine." Excitement ran down her spine as an unexpected idea began to form. "Eagle's Ridge could use a really good restaurant. This patio, with the song of the river, the moonlight through the trees—it's perfect. It's inspiring."
"You're getting a little carried away. My grandfather will never sell it."
"What if it was partly an homage to Veronica's but more modern, more organic…" She spun around as her brain began to shimmer with ideas. "I could see a dozen tables out here in the bright afternoon sun and then at night, the restaurant could become more elegant, luxurious, expensive, but not too expensive. We'd want the locals to come, but we'd also want to appeal to the tourists."
"We? Who's going to run this imaginary restaurant?" he queried, giving her a pointed look. "You?"
"Well…I don't know."
"I thought you said you were just visiting, that your life is somewhere else."
"It was somewhere else." She knew it was crazy to contemplate coming back to Eagle's Ridge. The culinary world was not here, and she'd left her hometown a long time ago to pursue that world, to be a force within it.
"This seems like something you need to think about, Bailey. You'll never find the acclaim, the customers, the money in a restaurant here in Eagle's Ridge, not like you'd find in New York or Los Angeles or San Francisco. Isn't that the dream you left Eagle's Ridge to chase?"
"That was the dream. But dreams change." The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Sure, there were voices in her head screaming caution, telling her not to throw New York away just because of Franco and her bad experience there, but there were other voices suggesting that perhaps she'd always been meant to come back here.
"And hurt fades," he said pointedly. "You might feel differently in a few days or even a few weeks."
"I might," she admitted.
"Besides, my grandfather won't sell the restaurant. It means too much to him."
"I guess I can't blame him for wanting to hang on to something that reminds him of his wife. Maybe he's not as soulless as I've heard he is."
"He did love Veronica," Ryder said.
She walked across the patio and sat down on the low brick wall overlooking the moonlit water. "This place feels magical," she murmured. "I don't usually see the river from this side."
Ryder sat down next to her. "Sometimes it's good to change your perspective."
"Not just good—important." She glanced over at him, then brought up the subject they'd been dancing around all night. "I don't know how to help you, Ryder; I really don't. Your grandfather doesn't want to sell his restaurant, even though it's been closed for more than a decade. And my grandfather's land means everything to him. They're both stubborn old men."
"Who are living in the past."
"They're in their nineties—that's a lot of past to try to move them away from."
"Maybe it's about their legacies then," he suggested. "I have to try, Bailey."
"Are you sure this is where you want to be?" It was the same question he'd asked her, and she needed to know. "You've been back here longer than me, but only by a few months. Are you sure you won't find this town really slow and quiet after all the action you've seen? You're a soldier—a warrior."
"I was a soldier, but that part of my life is over. And it won't be that slow or quiet around here if I can do what I want to do at the airport."
"Maybe not." She gave him a thoughtful look. "But I feel like you didn't just come back to Eagle's Ridge to expand the airport, bring more tourists to town, or fly search and rescue for reckless hikers."
He tipped his head. "I suppose there's a bit more to it than that."
"Like what?"
He didn't answer right away, then said, "When my helo was shot down, it was the first time I really thought my number might be up. And you know what came into my mind?"
"Home?"
He nodded, turning to look into her eyes. "In
my head, I saw this river and the Blue Mountains. I saw the past I'd run away from, and I made a promise to myself that if I survived, I'd come back. I'd take care of unfinished business."
The deep emotion in his voice wasn't completely explained by his words. "Is it the town or your family that you're not finished with?"
He gave her a faint smile. "Both. But it's also myself. I left here when I was eighteen. I didn't think I could be who I wanted to be in this town. And at the time I couldn't. But a lot has changed since then. Eagle's Ridge means more to me now, because there was a moment when I didn't think I'd ever see this beautiful place again. I want to be somewhere that's growing, that's hopeful, where there's a future. And the people in this town, with the exception of our grandparents, do work together."
She was touched by his words and ached a little at the pain in his voice, her mind imagining the terror he must have gone through thinking that his life might end. It really made her recent disaster seem a lot less important.
Impulsively, she put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so glad you survived, Ryder. That you had a chance to come back."
"Me, too," he said, a husky note in his voice.
She swallowed hard as their gazes clung together, as the whisper of his breath brushed against her cheek. He was so close, and she wanted him closer…
He seemed to want that, too.
His head lowered.
She licked her suddenly dry lips.
He sucked in a quick breath and then his hand came around the back of her neck, and he pulled her toward him, his mouth coming down on hers with a hunger, a force, that matched the rushing blood in her veins.
Surrounded by the cool mountain air, Ryder's lips were smoking hot, and the electricity between them added a reckless danger to the moment. Her brain was racing to keep up with her desire, but it was a losing battle.
It didn't make sense that she was kissing Ryder.
But who needed sense when there were all these wonderful, glorious, shivery feelings, when every nerve ending had come alive, when they couldn't stop at one kiss or two or three…when all she could think about was that there were too many clothes between them?
Finally, a desperate need for air broke them apart. Their breaths mixed together in a hot cloud between them.
But the heat was shattered by a cold drop of water on her face.
She blinked in confusion as another drop landed close to her eye.
Rain!
She suddenly realized it was raining. There had been moonlight just a minute ago, but now there were thick, swirling clouds overhead and a misty rain starting to come down.
"We should go back," Ryder said, jumping to his feet.
He extended his hand, and she took it, sliding off the low wall. They jogged down the hill, their pace increasing as the rain got harder. Once again, she found herself slipping and sliding on muddy ground, but Ryder never let go of her hand. He wouldn't let her fall, and while he was just being a gentleman, it still put a knot in her throat. A lot of men would have let her fend for herself, and she was more than capable of doing that, but every now and then it was nice to have someone else looking out for her.
By the time they reached Ryder's front porch, they were both soaking wet, the skies having opened up with a ridiculously hard downpour. She pushed wet strands of hair off her face while Ryder shook off the water clinging to his jacket.
"Where did that come from?" she asked.
"Maybe the universe thought we needed a cold shower," he said with a grin. "That was some kiss, Bailey."
She couldn't help but smile back at him. "It was." She paused as thunder rocked the air followed almost immediately by a streak of lightning. "I didn't think it was enough to do that, but maybe…"
He laughed. "Let's go inside. We can have dessert."
She had a feeling if she went inside, dessert was going to involve their naked bodies and not the delicious tart she'd made earlier. And as much as that tantalizing thought made the butterflies in her stomach zip around with anticipation, her brain was telling her to slow the hell down.
"I think I should go home," she said, feeling both proud of her willpower and ridiculously disappointed.
Ryder's smile faded. "Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen."
"I know that. I just don't know what I want to happen," she said honestly.
"Fair enough. So, let's just have some of that tart you made."
"I'm still full."
"You're sure I can't talk you into dessert?"
He could talk her into a lot more than that, which was exactly why she needed to leave. "Another time," she said. "I just need to grab my bag, but I don't want to drip all over your floors and furniture."
"I'll get it for you."
"It's on the kitchen counter."
He disappeared into the house, returning with her purse a moment later. "Is this all you need?"
"That's it." She paused. "I'm going to help you, Ryder—with my grandfather."
Relief and surprise flashed across his face. "Seriously?"
"Yes. Because it's a worthy cause. I'll set up a meeting. I can't guarantee he'll show up but I'll do my best. I think it's a ridiculous long shot."
He smiled. "Maybe. But there's nothing better than making something happen that everyone thinks can't be done."
"You could fail, Ryder."
"Not trying would be worse."
His words touched off a wave of self-recrimination, and suddenly she was asking herself why she hadn't fought harder against Franco and his lies. Why hadn't she fought for her reputation? Why had she run away? "You must think I'm an awful coward," she murmured.
"Why would you say that, Bailey?"
"Because I didn't stay in New York and fight for my good name."
He gave her a long look. "I don't think you're a coward because you came home. Maybe deep down you knew the relationship—the restaurant—wasn't worth fighting for."
"You might be giving me more credit than I deserve."
"I don't think so. But bottom line—it doesn't matter what other people believe; it only matters what you think. It's your life, your choices. Only you have to understand them."
"I appreciate you saying that. I might be a little more swayed by what people think of me than you are."
"Well, I think you're one of the most interesting, beautiful, and talented women I've ever met."
She drew in a quick breath as his words started the flutters once again. "Even if that's a line, I like it."
"It's not a line. And I'm not saying it to get you on my side. What happened a few minutes ago—that wasn't about the land. You know that, right?"
She nodded. "I know that."
"Good. Why don't you come by the airfield tomorrow? I can show you exactly what I want to do. That might help you figure out a plan to get your grandfather on board."
More time with Ryder seemed like a fabulous idea. "All right. I told my dad I'd help out in the diner this week, but I'll see what I can do. Maybe after lunch, when it gets slow for a few hours."
"Perfect. We have a plan."
"You like plans, don't you?"
"I do. I've never been an impulsive person."
"Well, I am the complete opposite. I usually jump off the cliff and figure out a plan on the way down, which is probably why I'm in the mess I'm in."
"You're going to land on your feet, Bailey." He gave her a smile that washed over her in a warm wave, creating more tingly feelings and a wish that she hadn't said no to his offer for dessert. "I also think we're going to make a good team."
Being on Ryder's team seemed like a great idea. And as she dashed through the rain to her car, she couldn't help thinking it was really too bad she was off men…
Seven
Bailey entered the kitchen at No Man's Land a little before seven on Friday. Her dad had gotten in at six to accept some early-morning deliveries from the local baker and vegetable supplier, so he was already up to his elbows in pancake and waffle batter
.
He gave her a quick look. "So, you're really going to help out this morning?"
"I said I would," she reminded him. They hadn't spoken much since she'd arrived in town, but when he'd asked her how she felt about giving him a hand at the diner for a few days, she hadn't been able to say no. His normal prep cook was taking a few days off since his wife had just had a baby, so her dad was short-handed.
She put her purse in the storeroom and grabbed an apron, then returned to the kitchen. "What do you want me on?"
"Eggs and omelets, and no fancy stuff that's not on the menu," he said, giving her a pointed look. "You'll get everyone's hopes up and then they'll be disappointed when you go back to New York."
"I'll stick to the menu." She opened the large refrigerator door to check on the egg supply and the other vegetables she would need to cook her father's dishes. While her dad didn't like to experiment a lot, he served up deliciously seasoned, perfectly cooked food with every order, and now that she knew so much more about the restaurant business than she had as a kid, she appreciated his consistency.
"Good morning," Brenda said cheerfully, as she entered the kitchen. "It's nice to have you back, Bailey."
She wanted to say it was nice to be there, but she still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about being in a restaurant kitchen again. Cooking for Ryder at his house had been one thing. But she was about to put her skills on display for a lot of friends and neighbors, some of whom might not trust her cooking anymore.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," she said. "You've been nice not to ask, but I suspect you've both heard some rumors about me."
"None of which I believe are true," Brenda said firmly. "You're an incredible cook."
"And you're very careful with ingredients and preparation," her dad put in. "Something else happened in that restaurant to make those people sick, but I know you didn't have anything to do with it. If you had, you would have stood up and said so. You're not a coward. You've always taken responsibility when you did something wrong."
Her eyes blurred at her dad's strong words. "It means a lot to me that you both believe that. I guess my secret wasn't so secret after all."
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