Before I Knew (The Cabots #1)

by Jamie Beck

  After dictating a few orders to his sous chef, he crossed to her. While they walked toward the door, Colby muttered, “Please wipe the scowl off your face and smile.”

  “I’m not scowling.” His scowl intensified.

  “You are!” She waited for his expression to change.

  “Colby, I’m not an idiot. This is my first opportunity to publicly announce my return, so I’m not going to scowl at the reporter.” Alec fixed the most ingratiating smile on his face and gestured toward the door.

  His ability to shift from one emotion to another unnerved her, but she opened the door and crossed the dining room beside him.

  He held out his hand to the reporter. “I’m Alec Morgan.”

  “Alec, I’m Melissa Westcott.” When Melissa smiled, Colby noted the way she licked her lips. “I’ve been eager to speak with you both.”

  Both? Hardly. Melissa had barely spared Colby a glance.

  “Thank you. We’re equally eager to discuss the restaurant.” Colby took a seat beside Alec, while Melissa sat across from him. Colby noticed that she’d unbuttoned her blouse a notch, although Alec didn’t seem to be interested in Melissa’s cleavage, even as the flirt leaned forward to set the phone down between them.

  “Gentry briefly mentioned some of the history between your two families.” Melissa looked innocent, but Colby sensed danger the way a dog could sense an oncoming storm.

  Only someone as boundaryless as Gentry would arm this stranger with personal details. When Alec stiffened beside Colby, she recalled Sara’s remarks from the other night about his grieving, and her nurture reflex kicked in.

  “History has nothing to do with our plans for A CertainTea.” Colby smiled, steering Melissa away from the topic of the tragedies and Une Bouchée so the woman couldn’t poke at Alec’s wounds. “We prefer to look forward rather than rehash the past.”

  “Doesn’t everybody?” Melissa chuckled. “But this history gives an intensely personal angle to the piece, which makes it more engaging. So, Alec, you were the executive chef and owner of the former Une Bouchée.”

  “Yes.” Alec’s controlled tone surprised Colby, although his smile had thinned. “Did you dine there?”

  “Never that lucky, but I’m aware it earned the James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant.”

  “It did.” Alec’s face remained impressively impassive.

  “I understand that around the same time, your brother fell victim to the lure of cliff jumping at Punch Bowl Falls.” Melissa’s blunt delivery stunned Colby into silence. She watched Melissa study Alec to gauge his reaction.

  He offered almost none. Only the slightest clench of his jaw signaled any discomfort. When no one spoke, he casually asked, “Is there a question?”

  Colby wanted to slap him a high-five, but she kept a leash on her emotions. She needed this promotional opportunity, but she detested selling out to such a heartless witch.

  Melissa intertwined her fingers. “Care to elaborate on how that accident played into the closing of your former restaurant?”

  “Not particularly,” he said.

  “I’m offering you a chance to explain what happened, and tell us why this new venture won’t fail.” Melissa tapped her pen on the table. “This is a golden opportunity to invite your fans back.”

  “My former patrons’ foremost interest would be getting a sneak peek at the menu.” He smiled, but his shoulders remained rigid. “My brother’s death isn’t relevant to our plans.”

  “On the contrary.” Melissa feigned compassion. “Readers will be hooked by your journey. Without that, this is just another new restaurant in town. So, please, tell me something about why you left and what brought you back. And why choose this suburban venue rather than something in the city?”

  Alec’s gaze wandered up over Melissa’s shoulder. Colby sensed he might explode or bolt from his chair, so she surreptitiously clasped his hand, which he’d balled up on his thigh. She heard his breath catch, but then his fingers relaxed enough to close around hers. His hands—scarred from knives and burns—made Alec’s touch another newly callused thing about him.

  “Melissa, let me answer that,” Colby interjected, trying not to wince from Alec’s tight grip. “As Gentry must’ve mentioned, Alec and I were childhood friends. When he returned to town, it seemed a natural fit to have him help me get this place off the ground.”

  Melissa speared Alec with another stare but then shifted her attention to Colby. “Okay, let’s talk about you and your well-known family. You used to be a lawyer, and your family is in the tea business. What made you decide to open a restaurant?”

  “I needed a change. Lawyering can be exhausting—always solving other people’s problems. I wanted to bring a little joy into the world. I envision this beautiful location as the site for many happy memories for families celebrating all kinds of accomplishments and milestones.” Colby noticed Alec’s grip loosening.

  She could’ve eased her hand away, but she didn’t. Initially she’d reached out to comfort him. Now his touch soothed her, producing a pleasant hum in her chest. That should worry her, but at the moment, it didn’t.

  “That’s sweet. Of course, you, too, suffered a loss not long after Alec. My sympathies.” Melissa briefly bowed her head in a phony show of empathy. “Did your husband’s suicide play a role in your career change?”

  Melissa’s question had struck like a pickax. The broken, bloody image of Mark’s body on the sidewalk surfaced, making Colby’s mouth turn pasty. Every light bulb in the restaurant buzzed in her ears as she fought to suppress the image.

  “I’m sorry.” Melissa’s expression, however, didn’t look the least bit sorry. “I should’ve been more tactful.”

  If there had been flatware on the table, Colby might’ve picked up a spoon and hurled it at the woman’s head.

  Alec’s thumb stroked the top of her hand as he leaned forward. “Melissa, I’ll discuss Une Bouchée if you agree not to mention Mark in the article.”

  “Alec—” His parents would hate reading about Joe, but Alec cut off Colby’s response with a quick hand squeeze. He intended to rescue her, and he’d never looked more attractive to her than he did then.

  “Fine. And again, I apologize for my blunt delivery.” Melissa’s lame apology would be filed in Colby’s “too little, too late” drawer. “So, Alec, tell me about what happened at Une Bouchée and how you ended up here.”

  Alec glanced down, steadying himself with a deep inhalation. “Prior to my brother’s accident, our relationship had become . . . contentious. I’d assumed we’d eventually clear the air, but when he died, so did that opportunity. The wasted time and petty arguments gnawed at and distracted me. Made me question my priorities. On top of that, I was dealing with my parents’ grief. That all drained my creativity.”

  Colby watched Alec, wondering how forthcoming he’d be, and if she might learn the truth behind Mark’s accusation that day at Joe’s funeral.

  Alec tapped a few fingers on the tabletop. “Anyone who’s worked in a kitchen—long hours, dangerous work, a need for precision—knows that there’s no room for distraction. My preoccupation cost me my restaurant and reputation. I left town to escape the memories, but returned for my parents. Fortunately, Colby’s giving me a chance to redeem myself by helping her build a first-class establishment.”

  He’d woven a believable tale, but Colby suspected he’d kept something to himself. Like her, he had no one he trusted enough to unburden his guilty conscience. What if they could learn to trust each other? The wish flared like a twinkling firework and then turned to smoke just as quickly.

  “You must be very grateful for Alec, considering your lack of experience.” Melissa turned her attention back to Colby. “What convinced you that you could make this major career jump?”

  Colby cleared her throat, swallowing a confession of sheer desperation.

  Alec interjected, “Colby’s a sharp, savvy, successful woman. She’s certainly smart enough to run a restaurant.
I’ve no doubt that, with or without me, she’d make this place a success.”

  “Thank you,” Colby managed. Given the numerous disagreements they’d been having about the restaurant, she knew he’d exaggerated his opinion, but she wanted to kiss him for it, anyway. That thought did nothing to ease the tension that had tightened all the muscles in her shoulders and back.

  Melissa tipped her head and gestured between them. “You two seem close. Any relevant personal history here?”

  “Just friends since childhood.” Colby smiled as if their hands weren’t still clasped together beneath the table.

  “But never a couple?” Melissa’s expression revealed her personal interest in the answer.

  “No,” Alec replied, his hand releasing Colby’s. The loss of warmth traveled all the way to her heart.

  “No crush on your older brother’s friend?” Melissa teased Colby.

  Colby tensed because she could neither deny nor entertain the idea.

  “How about we finally discuss the menu?” Alec suggested.

  While he and Melissa discussed food, Colby’s thoughts strayed. Alec confused her. One minute a dictator, trouncing people in the kitchen, the next a gentleman and friend. Yet always holding something back. Exactly the kind of dissembling she knew she should avoid. Yet here she was again, finding herself drawn to someone complicated and passionate. The same words she’d called Mark in the beginning, before the depths of his troubles were known.

  “Sounds divine. Women must line up for a dinner invitation from you.” Melissa’s flirtatious tone irked Colby. “Let’s get Phillip to snap a few pictures of you two, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Like the other night when Gentry had been snapping pictures, this photographer arranged Colby and Alec in a series of poses that had their bodies brush against each other. Colby’s skin flushed from Alec’s touch. Under other circumstances, it might’ve been enjoyable. But today her thoughts ran in circles—Joe, Alec, Mark—right until the moment Melissa and Phillip walked out the door.

  Breathing out the anxiety she’d pent up during the interview, Colby barely made eye contact with Alec. “Thank you for making time for that. We should both get back to work.”

  Without looking at him, she went to her office and closed the door. She’d barely escaped having Mark’s and her history end up in the paper for everyone to judge. Laying her hands on the desktop, she leaned forward and drew deep breaths, determined not to open her drawer and pop a pill. Determined to be stronger.

  Stronger—ha! Instead of coming across as the eager new proprietor of the Portland area’s newest restaurant, Colby had frozen at the mention of Mark, proving she still hadn’t put to rest the history that now buckled her knees.

  “Colby.” Alec rested a hand on her shoulder.

  She hadn’t heard him come in. Squeezing her eyes closed, she kept her back to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course.” Colby blinked back her tears before facing him. “I’m sorry you had to talk about Joe because I shut down. But thank you for keeping Mark out of the article.”

  A tremor whipped through her, which Alec subdued with a hug. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I did nothing right, either.” She allowed herself to relax in his embrace. At another time in her life it might’ve led to something else. That thought led to a shameful confession. “I’m sick of feeling weak and confused . . . and lost. I’m afraid, Alec. What if this sorry version of myself is the best I can be now?”

  He squeezed her, his voice thick with feeling. “There’s nothing sorry about any version of you. You’re resilient and generous and kind. Someday you’ll be able to look back without being overwhelmed. Until then, lean on me. I’ll start by making you laugh a little every day.”

  “That’s not your job.” She sniffled against his shirt, listening to the soothing rhythm of his steady heartbeat. An unbidden memory surfaced of another time when she’d been crying and he’d comforted her. He’d kissed her, actually. Her first real kiss. The one she’d forced him to give her, back when she’d been bold and heedless of consequences. Too bad she wasn’t that bold anymore.

  Her grip slackened, so he eased away and studied her face—a favorite pastime. “You’re flushed. Maybe you should sit.”

  “I’m fine.” She looked embarrassed by the show of vulnerability. Yet this was how he liked her best—bravely facing life instead of hiding from it. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t write a hatchet job.”

  “That’s the only reason I cooperated.” Seeing Colby stricken by the mention of Mark’s suicide had intensified his guilty conscience. Redemption would come only after he made this place a phenomenon and replaced that wary look on her face with her old smile.

  “Let’s talk about something else.” Colby smoothed her hair and rounded her desk, putting distance between them. “Is the kitchen ready for the test run this weekend?”

  “Almost, but we’ll need every bit of the extra time after the soft opening to prep for the grand opening.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, a poor substitute for having her body pressed against it.

  “Should I be worried?” Her delicate brows knit together.

  “Still working on attitudes about consistency and perfection.” He tempered his concerns because he didn’t want to give her a reason to revisit his aggressive menu and last-minute changes.

  Quietly, she said, “Maybe attitudes would improve if you were less tyrannical.”

  This again? He refused to discuss it. The problem was that the daily coddling she’d forced was undermining his authority and making the staff feel like they were performing better than they were. That just increased his stress.

  Eventually she accepted his silence and moved on to the next topic.

  “I’m working on the seating. I’ve stuck Hunter with my mom, which won’t thrill him but is better than seating him with Jenna. Also, I can’t put my mom too close to Jenna and my dad.” She looked up from the paper she’d been studying, wearing a serious expression. “I’m sorry your dad won’t be coming. I know it’s because of me.”

  “Even if you weren’t involved, he probably wouldn’t come. My career doesn’t exactly make him proud.” Alec shoved his hands in his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them.

  “You’re a celebrated chef. How could he not be proud?”

  He smiled at the perplexed look on her beautiful face. The depth of emotion in her voice might as well have been a kiss for how it ignited his heart.

  “I’m not a cop like him and Joe, or a first responder, soldier, or pro athlete. Those are pretty much the only jobs he admires.” Alec shrugged and then joked, “Maybe he’d have accepted me as a doctor or a billionaire tech geek.”

  “Well, I love that you followed your passion, come what may. That makes you very brave and committed.” She smiled—a gentle, compassionate smile meant just for him. One he’d tuck away in his memory to revisit again.

  “Thanks.” He wished she were still snuggled against his chest. What if he tossed her papers off the desk, set her on top of it, and kissed her? The mere thought sent a potent shiver through him, so he gave himself a mental headshake. “Guess I’ll get back to the kitchen.”

  “We have lots of work to help us forget about Melissa.” A tired grin spread across her face.

  Burying pain behind a mountain of work hadn’t done the trick for him in the past, and he doubted it would help Colby now. She needed more than this restaurant if she wanted to rebuild a normal, happy life. He’d love to be the guy to get her to remove Mark’s wedding band, but he couldn’t without coming clean. Her earlier reaction to talking about Mark quieted the doubts he’d had about whether confessing might do more harm than good. Besides, he couldn’t help her or his family if he got fired.

  “You should go out with that lawyer.” Hell. That’d come out without thinking it through.

  “What?” She set down her pencil.

  Alec gestured arou
nd the room. “This isn’t enough, Colby. Not if you really want to reclaim your life. You need more than work.”

  She sat back, staring at him. “I could say the same to you—he who spends his nights in the company of puzzles.”

  He’d finished the recent one, actually. Not that she’d be impressed by that particular boast. “And you’d be right.”

  “Yet I don’t see you dating.”

  Because I want you. “We’re talking about you.”

  “You’re talking about me. And I’m not interested. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be with Todd. He’s a good man, but we’ve been friends for too long. I doubt I could ever see him as more than that.” She pressed her lips together and looked away.

  Alec’s heart slowed. In fact, his body suddenly seemed ten times heavier and wilting. Against all odds, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d apparently clung to a childlike wish that someday, in some way, she might choose him.

  But he’d been her friend even longer than Todd, so she’d likely also relegate him to that sexless zone. He should count himself lucky that he’d never be forced to tell her about Mark’s letter. He didn’t feel lucky, though. He felt deprived of the one thing that might eclipse a family reconciliation.

  That must be why his next thought slipped past his lips. “Maybe a man who’s been your friend for a long time is the perfect man for you.”

  He willed himself not to look away while she weighed her words in heavy silence. His heart pounded out each second until her reply.

  In a voice as soft as a summer breeze, she uttered, “I don’t know much, but I do know that there’s no such thing as a perfect man.”

  Everything in him rebelled against the door she’d just closed. “That sounds almost like a challenge.”

  She hesitated, her eyes filling with questions he hoped she wouldn’t ask. Apparently, she thought better of them, too, and simply ended the discussion by saying, “One I know I’d win.”

  Chapter Eight

  “The hostess said you wanted to see me?” Alec stood in the door to her office looking formidable in his freshly pressed chef’s coat. Shoulders back, spine arched, tautly strung like a crossbow. Faint circles beneath his eyes revealed the eighteen-hour workdays he’d been clocking all week in a feverish quest to make the soft opening perfect. “Doors open in less than an hour, so I don’t have much time.”