"Then maybe it's time to change that."
"I'm too old to change."
"Or maybe you're just old enough," she countered. "I'll see you later. Be safe."
"I will."
She walked down the steps, and got into Ryder's car. He started the engine without a word and drove down the road.
She was a little surprised by his silence. "What are you thinking?" she asked. "I thought that went better than I was expecting."
"Really?" He gave her a sharp look. "I don't think your grandfather is going to sell me that land."
The earlier determination in his gaze had changed to anger and frustration.
"He said he'd think about it. That wasn't a no; that was a maybe," she said.
"He just didn't want to say no in front of you."
"He's never had a problem with that before," she said dryly.
"Where am I taking you, Bailey? Home? Back to the diner? Where do you want to go?"
She kind of wished he'd included his house on the list. All traces of the man who couldn't wait to kiss her had vanished. He was a million miles away in his head. "The diner is good."
"Okay."
They didn't speak the rest of the way there. When he pulled into a parking spot in front of the restaurant, he didn't bother to turn off the engine.
She glanced over at him, not liking the way things were ending. She felt a coldness between them that seemed at odds with all the heat they'd made the night before. "Are you all right, Ryder?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for doing that with me."
"You don't seem fine."
He shrugged. "It is what it is, Bailey."
"I'm sorry he didn't say yes. But I still think there's a shot."
"You're dreaming. There's no shot. There's no runway. It's not happening. Your grandfather is going to carry on this feud for the rest of his life." Anger lit up his voice.
"I think you made some inroads with him today," she said. "You were very persuasive."
"I could have talked until I was blue in the face. He already has his mind made up."
She wanted to say that wasn't true, but maybe it was. Still… "So, what?" she challenged. "You're going to quit?"
"I didn't say that," he muttered.
"It sounded like it."
"I need to think, Bailey. You should go to work."
"All right, but call me if you want to do some thinking together."
"I'll do that."
She didn't believe him, but there was nothing to do but get out of the car. She shut the door and watched him drive away, frustrated that he'd shut her down and pushed her away when she'd been doing all she could to help him. She knew his anger was really at her grandfather, but she couldn't help but feel she was now a part of that anger. Maybe their last names were going to be too big of an obstacle between them.
She didn't want to think that Ryder had been using her to get to her grandfather and now he was done. But his brush-off had definitely stung.
Sighing, she couldn't help thinking that her life would be a lot simpler without so many stubborn, strong, prideful men in it.
* * *
He was an idiot. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd just taken out his frustration and anger on Bailey, when she'd gone out of her way to help him.
Ryder slammed on the brakes at the next stop and made a quick U-turn. No matter what her grandfather decided, he wanted Bailey in his life. And he needed her to know that. Last night had been quite possibly the best night of his life. He might not be able to get the land he wanted, but he wasn't going to lose her—certainly not because of her stubborn, feud-obsessed grandfather.
Although, he hadn't done himself any favors by behaving like an ass. He needed to fix that.
He pulled back into the parking spot he'd just left and walked into the diner.
Bailey was sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and chatting with Brenda. He was relieved she wasn't already at work in the kitchen.
Wary surprise flashed through her blue eyes when he walked up to her. "I thought you left."
He heard the unhappy, irritated note in her voice. "I'm sorry."
"You should be. You acted like a jerk, Ryder. I was trying to help you."
He tipped his head. "I know. Can you forgive me?"
"I'll have to think about it," she said, but there was a light in her eyes that told him he was at least halfway back to being in her good graces, and he felt a shockingly big amount of relief about that. There was a part of him that wondered how he'd let this woman come to mean so much to him so fast, and maybe he should slow down. On the other hand, life was short, and he didn't want to waste any more minutes of it.
"While Bailey is thinking about your apology, do you want some lunch?" Brenda asked with a gleam in her eyes. "Sam is whipping up a cheeseburger for his daughter; I'm sure he'd make you one, too."
"I will," Sam said, sticking his head through the window pass leading into the kitchen. "How do you like your burger, Ryder?"
"Medium is great," he said, sliding into the counter stool next to Bailey.
"Too bad we don't serve alcohol here," Sam added with a knowing smile. "I bet you could use a beer after talking to my dad."
"If you were pouring, I'd definitely say yes," he conceded, glad that neither Brenda nor Sam seemed upset with him. Maybe Bailey hadn't told them how he'd practically kicked her out of the car.
"Bailey says things went a little better than expected," Brenda said.
"I'll go with her take on it." Maybe he should be more optimistic that Max hadn't given him an outright no, but he still felt like he was a long way from yes.
A cool breeze came into the dining room as the door opened. Bailey turned her head and let out a gasp. He followed her gaze to a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man with olive skin.
The man wore black slacks and a button-down shirt under a black wool coat. In one hand was a huge bouquet of flowers and in the other was a magazine. He stopped three feet away from them, his gaze fixed on Bailey.
Ryder felt a pit grow in his stomach. He knew who this was even though Bailey hadn't said a word. She seemed speechless, and he didn't like that at all.
"My love," the man said with a dramatic flair.
"What are you doing here, Franco?" Bailey asked, sliding off her chair to stand and face him.
"I have come to offer my deepest apologies. I am very sorry that I hurt you, Bailey. I have come to get you back. I will do anything to make that happen."
"It's too late," she said.
"It's not." Franco held up the magazine in his other hand. "I've told the world of my mistakes, that you are the finest chef, and that nothing that happened in the restaurant was your fault. They have printed a correction to the previous story. So, I have fixed everything. You will come back and run the restaurant. I will give you free rein to do whatever you want."
"You actually told the truth?" Bailey asked in disbelief.
"Yes. Because I love you, and I need you."
Ryder held his breath, waiting for Bailey to tell Franco she was done with him. She wasn't coming back. She wasn't his love. She didn't want anything from him. But Bailey seemed to be having trouble forming words.
Renewed anger rushed through him in a crushing wave. He'd come back to apologize to Bailey so that she would know how much she meant to him. But seeing her now with this guy made him wonder why the hell he'd bothered.
Bailey obviously still had feelings for the man, or she would have kicked him to the curb the first second he opened his mouth.
How could he have misread her so badly? He'd thought she was on the same page as him when she obviously wasn't.
Shooting out of his stool, he brushed past Franco, almost knocking the damn bouquet out of his hands.
"Wait, Ryder!" Bailey said.
He slammed the door to the diner on her plea and got into his Jeep. He caught a glimpse of her coming out of the restaurant as he took off down the street. He didn't need to hear anything from her. Words
didn't matter. The silence he'd just witnessed had told him everything he needed to know.
* * *
Bailey couldn't believe Ryder had just left in a storm of anger, without giving her a chance to say anything to him or to Franco. Nor could she believe Franco had just come back with apologies and retractions, something she'd never expected to happen.
She turned around as Franco came out of the restaurant. He must have left the flowers and magazine on the counter, because he was now empty-handed.
"Bailey," he said with concern. "What's going on? Who was that man?"
"Why are you really here?" she asked, ignoring his questions.
"I told you. I want you back—in my life and in my restaurant. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I was distraught after opening night. I wasn't speaking clearly. I didn't mean to throw the blame on you."
"Yes, you did," she said flatly. "You might be sorry now, but you lied to save yourself, and you threw me under the bus."
"It was a difficult time."
"Yes, it was—for me, too, but you left me to hang. You ruined my reputation. I can't forgive you for that."
"I will make it up to you. I will give you whatever you want—any restaurant of your choosing," he said. "If you want Paris, it's yours. London? It's yours. I need you, Bailey."
"Why?" she asked in confusion. "Why would you need me?"
"Because you're incredibly good, the best chef I've ever worked with."
She couldn't help feeling somewhat mollified by his words but not enough to forget everything that had happened. "I am a good chef, Franco. And I'll be even better without you holding me back. After you fired me, after I found out how little our relationship meant to you, I was hurt, angry. I ran away. But since I came home, I realized that I don't need you to be successful or happy. I never did. Everything I want I can get for myself, and I intend to do just that. We're done."
"You don't mean that. I can open doors for you."
"I can open my own doors. Maybe it will take longer. But I'll get where I need to go. Don't call me again. Don't come back here. I'm moving on with my life, and there is no place in it for you."
"Bailey, you can't mean this," he pleaded, shock in his eyes at her response. "You have to give me a chance. I've publicly apologized. The press is waiting for your return. I've already planned a new opening night."
Now she knew why he'd come back. Her return would provide more interest for that opening. "You'll have to open without me. I wish you well, Franco. I learned a lot from you."
"You've changed," he said, confusion in his gaze.
"I have," she agreed. "I've changed back into the woman I used to be, and I like her a lot better than the woman I was with you in New York. Goodbye, Franco." And with that, she went back into the diner.
As she entered the restaurant, she was met with questioning gazes from everyone in the room. The scene that had just happened would be all over town by the morning. But she wasn't going to worry about gossip or rumors anymore. She didn't have to explain herself to anyone—except possibly her father, who was now standing with Brenda at the counter. They both looked more than a little concerned.
"Bailey," her father said. "Do I need to have a talk with that man?"
"No, Dad. He's gone."
"Good," Brenda said. "I didn't like him at all."
"Neither did I," her father echoed.
She smiled at the fierce protective love and loyalty in their eyes. "I don't like him anymore, either. And I told him that. He won't be back. We're done. I have moved on."
"Maybe you should go tell Ryder that," Brenda suggested.
"Take him his burger," her dad said, handing her a white bag. "Yours is in there, too, as well as some chili fries."
"You guys are the best." She paused. "Ryder is a good guy, too."
"Then you better talk to him, put some light on the situation," her dad said. "Misunderstandings have a way of growing in the dark and in the silence. Believe me, I know." A shadow passed through his eyes.
She wondered if he was talking about the end of his marriage with her mother, but that was a conversation for another day.
* * *
When she got to Ryder's house, she was happy to see his Jeep in his driveway. She really hadn't wanted to drive all around town looking for him. But when he opened the door to her persistent knocking, he did not look happy to see her standing on his porch.
"I brought our burgers." She held up the bag in her hand, giving him a tentative smile. "Dad put in chili fries. They're the best."
His frown deepened. "I'm not hungry, and I don't feel like talking."
"Well, I am hungry, and I do feel like talking. I'm not leaving without a conversation."
"You didn't seem to want to talk at the diner, when that slimy weasel told you he loved you and wanted you back."
"Let me explain."
"I don't want an explanation. I saw what I saw."
"You didn't see anything. Let me in, Ryder."
"Damn, you're stubborn."
"So are you," she returned.
"Fine, come in." He turned around and walked away.
She entered the house and moved across the living room to set the bag of food on the coffee table, the big couch reminding her of how much fun they'd had only the night before. How had things changed so fast?
Actually, she knew how—first her grandfather and then Franco.
She turned to face Ryder, who was standing with his arms folded in front of his chest, a hard look in his eyes. "I told Franco I didn't want him back and I didn't want his restaurant," she said. "If you'd stuck around, you would have heard that."
"I heard enough."
"Obviously you didn't."
"He told you he loved you, and you did not say that you didn't love him. You just stood there."
"He took me by surprise," she defended. "But I did tell him exactly that after you left. I made it very clear that I want nothing from him. Whatever we had is over and done."
"Are you sure it's over and done? What about the fact that he told the world you weren't to blame for the food poisoning at his restaurant? When you think about all he can offer you professionally, maybe you'll change your mind about what he has to offer."
"Do you really think I'm that swayed by ambition, Ryder?"
"You said you were before," he reminded her.
"I've learned from my mistakes, and you're the one who told me to stop letting those mistakes hurt me, to look forward, not back. So, why are you trying to drag me into the past?"
"Because your past came into the diner."
"I had nothing to do with that. I certainly didn't invite him."
Ryder drew in a breath and let it out, conflict still running through his eyes. "I didn't like what he said to you, Bailey. I didn't like the way he looked at you. I didn't like him at all."
"Then we shouldn't be arguing, because I feel the same way. I might not have thrown his flowers in his face, but I did tell him how I felt. I'm glad he came clean to the magazine, that he took responsibility, but I have no interest in having a personal or professional relationship with him. I don't want to hear from him or see him again."
"Even if it hurts your career?"
"Even then. My career is mine. I've finally realized that. It's up to me to make it what I want. No more depending on other people for a leg up or a handout." She took a breath. "So, can we forget about Franco and have lunch?"
"I would like to forget about him," he admitted, as the tension between them slipped away.
"Then I'll heat up our food." She grabbed the bag and headed into the kitchen.
Ryder followed her into the next room, standing in the doorway while she put the burgers and fries in the oven for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry, Bailey. I know that's the second time I've had to apologize today."
His words washed through her with warm relief. "I'm sorry, too, Ryder. I should have reacted more quickly to Franco's declaration. I was just stunned to see him. I co
uld not believe he came all the way to Eagle's Ridge."
"He realized how much you meant to him."
"Probably more like how much work I did for him."
"Will your rejection of him cause you more harm in your restaurant world? Can he hurt you again?"
She was touched that Ryder was worried about that. "He can't hurt me again, and I don't need him to succeed. I never did. I just thought I did."
He nodded. "I'm glad."
"I actually feel good. I feel free. He was a cloud hanging over my head, and now the cloud is gone. It's nothing but blue skies ahead." She laughed as the sound of rain on the window made a mockery of her words. "Well, maybe those blue skies are metaphorical, but you know what I mean."
He smiled. "I know exactly what you mean."
"And," she said, "I know you're unhappy about the way things went with my grandfather. You have a lot on the line." She walked across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck. "But it's still not a hard no…so, we can't give up."
"I like the sound of that we," he said huskily.
"So do I," she said, as they came together in a sweet, tender kiss that would have swept them away if the smell of onions hadn't reminded them both that their food was ready. "Let's eat. Then we'll talk or do whatever…"
He smiled for the first time since she'd arrived. "Whatever sounds really good."
"I think so, too."
Fifteen
After making up with Ryder in the most wonderful way Sunday afternoon, Bailey went home to get some actual sleep and then spent most of Monday working at the diner. When she wasn't at work, she was going through Veronica Westbrook's memory bin.
She spent Monday evening planning her menu for John Westbrook's dinner party on Tuesday, and while Ryder had tempted her with an invitation to dinner, she decided to put business before pleasure, because she really did want to do a good job on the party.
Leasing Veronica's and turning it into her own restaurant was becoming a much more vivid and exciting dream. There were other buildings in town she might be able to convert into restaurant space, but none that offered an architecturally beautiful stone building or such a magnificent view of the river and the mountains. It had to be Veronica's. Her dream was there; she just knew it. Unfortunately, she might have as much chance of convincing John Westbrook to allow her to lease the restaurant as Ryder had with her grandfather, but she was going to take this opportunity to make a good case for her talent as a chef.
Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1) Page 14