by Ava Miles
“Why aren’t you more upset with me?”
He leaned back, all nonchalance. “I was at first, but then I did what I did when I’m playing poker. I took stock of who I was playing against, thought about her motives. I realized you wouldn’t be fighting this hard if I didn’t threaten you. Why don’t you stop trying to approve or disapprove of what I do for a living and simply let yourself go?”
Was his jacket growing heavier? It could have doubled for concrete. “Go where?” she quipped.
He didn’t touch her, but she felt the punch of his gaze all the way to her toes. “If you have to ask, the woman’s buried even deeper than I suspected.”
Old vulnerability sprung up as if from a jack-in-the-box. Memories and emotions flooded her system. A whisper surfaced. If you let yourself be a woman, you’ll be destroyed again.
“You need to stop looking for layers. I’m Peggy McBride. Mom. Deputy. End of story.”
The hollow at the base of his throat drew her attention. What would his skin taste like and how warm it would be? The thought shocked her.
“Some people’s stories are as short and simple as children’s books. Yours isn’t one of them. You’re as long and complex as Great Expectations, but you’re trying to give the world a Cliff Notes version. Most are content with that. I’m not.”
She jerked his jacket off, ignoring how it released more of his spicy scent. “I don’t care what you are. And stop trying to read me like I’m sitting across from you at some poker tournament.”
When he didn’t take the jacket, she thrust it at his chest. He grabbed her hand and held it against his heart. The rapid beats matched the tempo of her breathing.
His chest seemed lovingly carved by a sculptor’s hands, the angles defined, utterly masculine, begging for her touch. She yanked her hand back and fisted it at her side.
“I know you’re not ready, Peg, but you’re in luck. I have a reputation for being patient.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
Since she had no idea how to respond, she strode forward. Part of her didn’t want to dissuade him. There was a new thrill inside her, like when she had burst into a drug dealer’s house without her Kevlar vest. Stupid, but exhilarating.
His finger brushed her nape, making her spine arch, but she didn’t turn around.
“Peg,” he whispered in the cold night. “I’m not your enemy. Remember that when we face each other down at the council meeting.”
He was wrong. He was as much an enemy to her body as he was to her town. She simply had to defeat him.
Chapter 37
Jill wanted to find a corner where she could quietly grieve.
The half-hearted conversations she’d been having were draining her soul. Finding Mac was her main goal. Then she could escape. When she finally found him, he was already chatting away with the dean of environmental science, who was also head of the Environmental Club. Why hadn’t she guessed he’d figure out who to target in this crowd? He turned when she approached and ended the conversation with élan. The dean headed off with a wave.
“You don’t have to babysit me, Jill,” Mac said. “I can tell tonight’s been difficult for you. Why don’t you head home?”
“No, this is my job,” she responded, aware of the strained glances. It was like she had a Party Wrecker sign around her neck.
He leaned close. “Take it from someone who knows. Fold your cards when the odds are against you.”
The urge to fight rose, but he was right. She nodded.
“I’ll call you in the morning.” Mac disappeared through the crowd.
She supposed she should be glad for his understanding, but humiliation made her red spots pop. She was a liability tonight.
A tap on her arm made her swivel around. Terry Ployke had the look of a man who’d been given an unwelcome job, his face pinched like he’d eaten bad sushi.
“Hey, Brian’s looking for you. Said he’d be at the sleigh. It got stuck out back.”
“Thank you,” came out like she’d downed a teaspoon of gravel. She wondered if he’d chosen the sleigh because of Jemma. She rubbed her throbbing head and wove through the tense crowd. And caught sight of Kelly Kimple. Of course, she’d be here. It was the biggest party of the year. She was engaged to a young biology professor now, but she still radiated that perky, sleek cheerleader look. Old memories and feelings rolled back in, making Jill feel small.
Thankfully no one could see her flushed skin in the dark room.
The wind blew snow on her face when she opened the back door. A number of people who were clearly impervious to pain were singing a song she didn’t recognize about mountains and moonlight. At least one of them didn’t have much of an ear for music, but they were all shouting at the tops of their lungs.
Her eyes watered from the cold when she stepped out to find Brian.
***
Brian turned when he heard the crunch of snow. He froze when he saw Simca coming down the path, a beaming smile on her face.
“What is it?” he asked.
She gestured to her phone. “Glorious news, mon cher. ”
He squinted into the distance, looking for Jill. This was all he needed. If she saw him with Simca… “Okay, tell me quickly. I’m waiting for Jill.”
Her smile faded. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
So, she really hadn’t believed him. Part of him knew she hadn’t stayed around for the restaurant, but he’d wanted this chance so badly. He sighed, his breath cascading to the sky like smoke. “Yes. I told you I was with her now.”
Those sherry eyes sought his. “And us?”
He shook his head. “We have some wonderful memories, a true respect for each other professionally, and a shared passion and understanding of food. But that’s all.”
“Then that makes what I am about to show you harder. I told you I would make things right, but I had hoped… Well, just read it.”
He took her phone. His eyes widened at the title of the article, “New York Chef’s Confession.” The interview covered Simca’s rise to fame with her celebrity chef husband and their difficult marriage. It ended with an account of her affair with Brian, the injustice her husband had done to him, and her emphatic statement of his innocence. She pleaded with the culinary community to stop making him the scapegoat for her failed marriage.
His whole body flushed with an emotion so strong, he couldn’t speak. She’d made everything right again.
She retrieved the phone from his lax hand. “I could tell last night at the bar you didn’t share my affections anymore. I had hoped I was wrong, but after being here tonight, I think it’s better for us to part ways. I’ve just texted a few chefs in Manhattan and received positive feedback. They’ll interview you for a sous chef position, Brian. You don’t have to go into business with me.” She wiped her nose. “And I…I can’t be around you and not care.”
His entire career was coming back into focus. He wasn’t a pariah anymore. “Oh, Sim,” he whispered, moved beyond belief. Eager to comfort and thank her, he took her into his arms. “I’m so grateful, but the last thing I want is for you to be hurt.”
She rested her head against his chest. “I will mend. Perhaps I was trying to hold onto something that was no longer there.”
When she lifted her face, he brushed aside a lone tear. His muscles tensed. He’d never seen her cry. “How can I ever thank you for restoring my reputation?”
Her mouth tipped up in a small smile. “Did I not tell you I would make amends?”
The warmth in his chest spread. He cupped her cheek. “Yes, you did. Thank you!” And the gratitude burst from his heart. She’d forsaken her own privacy for him.
Her eyes softened. “You are most welcome, cherie. I wish you success—whatever it is you decide to do. Of course, should you change your mind…”
His heart hurt. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a part of himself, a piece of his past. “So this is goodbye, then?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ll…miss
you,” she whispered.
Lover. Teacher. Friend. And now savior. “Yeah,” he whispered back, thinking of all the meals they’d made and shared in the sweltering heat of the kitchen—or at home when it was just them. “Me too.”
Kissing her goodbye seemed like the most natural thing in the world. When she settled against his chest, he pulled her close. “We had some great times.”
“The best,” she agreed.
The mountains rose before them, seemingly closer than usual. Brian’s mind filled with scenarios. He had his reputation back. Everything seemed possible again. He couldn’t wait to tell Jill. Freedom beat a heady rhythm in his body.
***
The light from the porch and Chinese lanterns faded the farther Jill stepped away from the house. Moonlight gave the shoveled path an eerie glow. Footprints stamped the snow, an echo of a path already taken.
The red sleigh was hard to miss, an unnatural intrusion in a scene perfect enough for a Conservation International calendar. The horse stood tethered to a large maple, bobbing its head in place, snorting white puffs resembling cotton balls. The bells around his neck jingled, making her think of Christmas.
Two figures stood talking against the backdrop of the mountains. As she came closer, the sleek red suit froze her in her tracks. And she’d know Brian’s body anywhere.
Her boots gripped the snow as she leaned forward, peering in the muted light. Brian was holding what looked to be a cell phone, its light illuminating his face. Even from the distance, she could see his face soften with shock and then love. When he cupped Simca’s cheek, her heart tore. She watched them murmur, but she wasn’t close enough to hear.
Paralyzing fear emerged. It couldn’t be true! After everything they’d shared, he couldn’t still love Simca.
When he leaned in to kiss her, his arms holding her like they’d done it a thousand times, she stumbled as she tried to turn. It was true, and the old Jill told her she’d been stupid to believe otherwise.
He had chosen the pretty girl over her again.
She jumped when a hand brushed her arm. She turned to see Peggy, her mouth grim.
“Let’s get you out of here,” she said in a flat voice, pulling her away from the scene.
Jill slipped down the path. Without Peggy, she would have fallen to her knees and simply broken down. Her heart lay shredded inside her, a raw wound burning and throbbing.
Everything was lost.
Chapter 38
When Jill didn’t come outside, Brian headed into the house to look for her. No one had seen her recently. They thought she might have left with Mac, but couldn’t be sure. Peg, Tanner, and Meredith were all gone too. He took out his phone to text Jill.
Where are you? I have news.
He hung out with some old high school friends, still scanning for Jill. After thirty minutes without a response, he called her again and was bounced to her voicemail. The party was in full swing, but he didn’t want to be there anymore, so he gathered his cooking utensils and left. He couldn’t wait to tell her what had happened.
When he arrived at Jill’s, all her lights were on. The first thing he saw when he walked inside was a tower of boxes in the hall. His already acid stomach burned when he caught sight of his own handwriting. They were his. Something was so not right.
His legs turned rubbery as he walked the short distance to the family room. Jill sat on her orange couch fully dressed, a pillow clutched in her lap. Her face bore the traces of tears.
“Hey!” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you to get out,” she ordered. “Mere, Tanner, and Peggy helped me pack everything up. If we missed anything, I’ll leave it for you at my shop.”
Her cold tone was a slap in the face. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw you with her,” she whispered. “We’re—”
Oh Jesus. “I don’t know what you think you saw,” he said, knowing exactly who she meant. He flew across the room and sat beside her, meeting her tear-drenched gaze. “But you’re jumping to the wrong conclusion.”
“I saw you kiss her. Embrace her.” Her words lashed out like a whip.
Jill edged away when he tried to touch her arm. Shit, he thought, thinking back to his final moments with Simca. Yeah, it probably had looked bad. “Listen. I was saying goodbye to her.”
“Bullshit!” she cried.
He held out his hands, desperate to make her see. “It’s true. We both ended up deciding we couldn’t work together. I’m with you, Jill. I love you. Simca still has feelings for me, and I told her it wouldn’t work.”
She punched him in the arm. “And you still have feelings for her too, or you wouldn’t have touched her. I saw you!”
“No!” The feeling of sinking in quicksand came over him. He wasn’t sure how to dig himself out of this hole. He yanked out his phone and pulled up Simca’s interview. “Read this. Seriously, Jill. She talked to a major culinary magazine about our affair, and how Andre set me up. She texted some major chefs in New York, and some of them are willing to interview me. Don’t you see? I was grateful. I was saying goodbye to a friend.”
She threw the pillow aside and stood, not reaching for the phone. “We tried your experiment. It failed. I can’t trust you.”
Oh God, it was his worst nightmare. He rose in a flash and gripped her shoulders. “Don’t say that. I love you. I swear to you nothing happened. Please, Jill.”
“You just said people want to interview you in New York. I think you should go for it. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
His anger suddenly exploded. “What the fuck! I can’t believe we’re here again after everything we’ve shared.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“You think you see something, so you come home, pack me up, and kick me out? What the fuck kind of relationship is that?”
She scrubbed her face. “One that’s not working.”
He punched the air. “That’s bullshit. It has been working. I can’t wait to come home to you each night, and I’ve never been happier than these past couple of weeks. What more can I do to convince you I love you?”
Her lip trembled, and seeing it, had him fisting his hands at his side so he wouldn’t reach for her.
“Clearly you can’t.” She inhaled a jagged breath. “You broke my heart again. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
He grabbed her hand and slapped it against his chest. “Fucking yes. You’re breaking my heart right now.”
The muscles in her face tensed. A fresh onslaught of tears crested over. “We don’t have what it takes, Bri. I just can’t trust you after what I saw.”
He strode across the room and kicked one of the boxes, had the sudden urge to hurl it across the room. “You’re throwing everything away between us because of your insecurities. This is that stupid Kelly Kimple shit all over again.”
She fisted her hand to her ribs. “It’s not stupid to me. How do you think you’d feel if I’d done the same thing?”
“I don’t fucking know. You’re the saint. I’m the sinner. Am I ever going to be redeemable in your eyes?”
“Please.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Don’t make this any harder than it is.”
A laugh snorted out. “Harder? What the fuck does that look like, Jill? From where I’m standing, I’d pretty much say you’ve gutted me as clean as a fish.”
“I thought you were going back to her when I saw you touch her. That you wanted her again. That you didn’t want me anymore. I don’t want to ever feel that way again.”
“So you cut me out. No discussion. No nothing. Well, maybe you’re fucking right. I guess we don’t have what it takes. I’m tired of having to prove myself to you. I thought we were past all this.”
“You shouldn’t have put yourself in that situation!” she cried, sweeping her arms out.
He shoved his hands to his waist. “I didn’t mean to. I was waiting for you to meet me by the sleigh. Simca found me because she had exciting
news. I thanked her. Maybe not as ‘purely’ as you would have, but goddammit, I have history with her. I was saying goodbye. I waited outside for you for half an hour! I couldn’t wait to tell you I’d been vindicated, that my career looked promising again. And you left without a fucking word.”
She strode across the room and shoved his chest. “I cried the whole way home, damn you! What was I supposed to do? Intrude on your tender scene?” Her hand dug under her shirt and before he had time to process what she was doing, she yanked her necklace off and flung it at him.
She might as well have thrown his heart on the floor as well. He grabbed her fists. “Okay, that’s it! You want to toss everything away, fine. I’m done trying to convince you how much I love you. When I head to New York this time, you can be goddamn sure it’s your fault.”
Her sharp intake punctuated the silence as he grabbed a couple of boxes and started to load his car. When he finished, his heart was thundering in his chest. Kneeling down, he picked up the broken necklace. He stood and strode down the hallway to her bedroom after not finding her anywhere else. For a moment, his hand almost couldn’t turn the doorknob. He pressed his forehead against the wood, the necklace heavy in his hand, and reached deep for courage. Then he let himself inside.
A single lamp shone on her bedside, illuminating her in the fetal position, crying into a pillow. A searing pain shot through his heart. Nothing had ever hurt this bad.
“Jill,” he called.
She jerked back and turned her flushed face toward him.
He held up her key in his other hand. “I’ll leave this on the kitchen table. If you find any more of my stuff, throw it out.”
A sob rushed out of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His throat thickened. “Me too,” he said and left, unable to hurl the necklace across her yard in the snow and let it go.
Chapter 39
City council meetings were new to Jill. Since it was open to the public, they’d scheduled it for nighttime so more citizens could attend. Through the large windows of the court-room-style council chamber, gas street lamps gave the snowy town square a Norman Rockwell feel. Inside, the chamber’s high ceilings, burnished wood, and brass chandeliers created a cozy atmosphere.