Maybe not all of it, but some. It was like the first few shaky breaths after nearly drowning. They burned and clawed at my throat, they were painful and raw, but they were made of life-saving oxygen none the less.
I didn’t know what to think about that or how to move on. Derrek was a darker cloud than ever, and yet Killian had inspired hope in a way that also healed where I had been only broken, that also breathed life where death had rotted and destroyed. He’d held out the person I used to be and offered it like a gift he had the right to give.
But the strangest part was that I didn’t mind. I didn’t even want to fight him for it. He had done something I hadn’t been able to do myself, and I would always be grateful for that.
He even made me want to consider something more… something that wasn’t just about me or my healing or my needs. He made me consider him.
He made me consider us.
The smell of coffee dragged me out of bed. I slid my feet into slouchy slipper boots and grabbed my robe for my dad’s sake. I stopped by the bathroom to wash my face and throw my hair in a fresh messy bun, but other than that I looked like I did every morning- terrifying.
Shuffling to the kitchen, I found my dad at the table. He had a fresh cup of coffee in his one hand and a piece of toast and jelly in the other. It was earlier than I usually made an appearance, but then again, last night had been an earlier night for me.
Comparatively. It was after midnight before Killian had stopped kissing me.
“You’re up early,” Dad noted as he took a long drink of his super-hot coffee. I could have sworn he didn’t have taste buds. For as long as I could remember, food temperature didn’t bother him. It was unnerving how he just dove right into the hottest foods and drinks. Even now I resisted the urge to shout a warning to him. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway.
“I closed up a little early last night,” I answered honestly.
Dad set his newspaper down and gave me his full attention. “Did you run out of food?”
The story came out in a torrent of information. “Derrek showed up unexpectedly after Vann left for his date. I felt uncomfortable staying there by myself.” For all my newfound courage, my explanation still trembled.
Dad’s expression hardened. “Why would he do that? Why didn’t he call first?”
“He doesn’t have my number. And I wouldn’t have answered anyway.”
“Because you’re a smart girl,” he sympathized. I saw the questions bounce around in his head through the window of his concerned expression, but for some reason, he didn’t ask them.
I wondered if he didn’t need to. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he’d figured it out for himself. Either way, he patted the seat next to him and told me to grab some coffee before I sat down.
While I poured the perfect ratio of cream and coffee in my chipped Mickey Mouse mug, my dad asked a very practical question. “Are you going to have to worry about him showing up again?”
I’d already considered that possibility, and it made me nauseous. I didn’t want to go to work every night worrying about Derrek lurking in the shadows. “I’m not sure,” I answered. “He opened his own restaurant in Charlotte. So it’s not like he has a ton of free time. But I’d love it if he never, ever showed his face again. Like if he could just bury himself upside down in the sand, that would be ideal.”
Dad sputtered his coffee all over his newspaper. “Sorry,” he coughed, wiping up the mess with the napkin he’d been clutching. “Warn me before you start plotting murder.”
I hid my smile in a long drink of coffee. “Will do.”
“What are you going to do about him?”
“I’m going to reach out to him today and tell him that I don’t want him anywhere near the food truck or me.”
He eyed me shrewdly. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“I’m going to file a restraining order.” There. I said it. The words were out in the world now, and I couldn’t take them back. I couldn’t even pretend they didn’t exist. It was something I should have done a very long time ago.
Some of the color leached from his face, and I could tell he had his suspicions, but he hadn’t put together the whole story yet.
He looked at me, blinking slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. Despite my brand-new mettle, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dad what happened with Derrek. The sunlight was too bright, too revealing. And my past was much too dark. My dad loved me more than anything, but the crippling embarrassment and fear of judgment kept the words locked inside me.
I justified my omission, by reminding myself I didn’t want to stress Dad out any more than he already was. I wanted him as strong as possible for chemo and this gross cancer. He knew enough.
A restraining order was not something to joke about, and I hoped he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t just throw that threat around unless I absolutely needed it.
When I answered, “Not really,” I pushed the guilt aside. I loved my dad more than anything, but I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I needed to start fighting my own battles. Fight them. Not just run from them.
Knowing he would be there for me anytime I needed him gave me a whole new sense of daring.
“You can tell me anything, baby girl,” he soothed. “I know you’re all grown up and got your own business and all that. But I’m still your dad. I’ll still go after any boy that breaks your heart. Or worse.”
I took another sip of coffee to hide my emotional reaction. “I know, daddy.”
His smile was sad, but genuine. “I love you, Vera May. There isn’t a thing in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”
I sniffled and nodded. “Thank you.”
He looked back at his paper, quickly hiding the tears that had filled his own eyes. Geez, all these heart to hearts were turning us into a bunch of softies.
My phone buzzed with a text message. I looked down to see Killian James Quinn’s name appear in the bubble. I’d changed it from James Q because I couldn’t erase the image of a middle-aged man in a bathrobe trolling me from his mom’s basement. Call me when you wake up.
I blushed, surprised by the romantic message, even after everything that happened last night.
Just kidding. I didn’t blush. And the message wasn’t romantic. Leave it up to Killian to send me commands through text without even a please or thank you.
God, that man…
“Big plans for the day?” Dad asked while I decided what to do about Killian’s message.
“Not really. I need to pay some bills and head to the commissary to do inventory. Oh, and manage my Facebook ads. And decide on next week’s menu. I should make a trip back to the truck and do some deep cleaning before it gets out of control. At some point, I need a new pair of work pants. I still haven’t found a bakery to work with either. I should swing by a few more today and drop off my card.”
He stared at me with his cup halfway to his mouth. “I thought today was your day off?”
“It is. That’s why I finally have time to do all the things I’ve needed to do for weeks.”
He snickered, turning his attention back to the paper. “When you were a little girl you just couldn’t wait to grow up. Remember that?”
I rinsed my empty cup and put it in the dishwasher. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I could have, of course. But that would have spoiled all the fun.”
“Who’s having fun?”
He smiled at me, his grin stretching wide across his stubbled face. “Me.”
I just rolled my eyes and put the creamer away. Since I really did have a ton to do today, I kissed him on the top of his shiny head and hurried to get ready.
My hair was a mess after sleeping on it wet, so I sprayed a half bottle of product on it and hoped for the best. I threw on a navy blue romper, with spaghetti straps and a bright orange belt to give it a pop of color. Rompers were a nightmare when it came to peeing, but I only had a couple more weeks of real summer and Su
ndays were one of the few days I didn’t have to dress for work- even if I would be working the entire day.
After I’d brushed my teeth, applied minimal makeup and pulled my hair into a loose braid over my shoulder, I grabbed my phone and headed for my car.
Killian had called an Uber last night just like he’d promised and then he’d kissed me thoroughly until it arrived. My belly flipped just thinking about the way he pressed me against my front door and used his very talented tongue to drive me crazy.
I sat in my driver’s seat tapping the back of my phone, deciding what to do. Had I changed my mind about dating? After last night, everything felt different.
I felt different.
Opening up to Killian had been freedom I didn’t realize I needed, but did that change my decision to be single? I still had goals.
Foodie took up almost all of my time. And Lilou was even worse for Killian. We didn’t really have time to pursue anything real.
Besides, as amazing as he’d been last night, I’d promised myself I would never date another chef again. It wasn’t that I expected all of them to be violent psychopaths. But it wasn’t a secret that Killian was arrogant, dominating and driven. The last thing I wanted to do was jump feet first into another unhealthy relationship.
I didn’t want to put myself in another position to be trampled or forgotten about. I didn’t want to ever compromise my dreams for someone else’s again.
So, why did I pick up my phone and call Killian like he asked? Er, demanded.
Because obviously, my heart was a traitor that refused to listen to reason.
He picked up on the third ring and didn’t bother with hello. “Did you just get up?”
“I’m actually on my way to the commissary. I need to check inventory for the next week before I go back to Morning Market.”
“You’re working today?” I could hear clanking in the background, voices calling to each other in an open space. He was already at Lilou.
“I’m catching up on everything,” I told him. “Are you working today?”
I heard the smile in his voice when he answered, “I work every day. How long is that going to take you?”
I calculated everything I had to do, deciding to swing by Target first since it was on my way. “Two hours. Maybe three.”
“Do you want to swing by Lilou afterward for some lunch?”
I bit my bottom lip, trying to restrain my smile. “Are you asking me instead of telling me?”
His voice dropped to a low rumble that did wicked things to my resolve. “Don’t tempt me, woman. I have no problem telling you to get your ass over here. I’m not good at being nice, Vera.”
Oh, my God.
I licked my lips and reminded myself I wanted a nice guy. I was done with assholes.
Only, Killian didn’t feel like an asshole. Not anymore.
Not at all.
I cleared my throat and tested him. “Just say please.”
His deep chuckle chased me through the phone. “Vera, please come eat lunch with me.”
Holy cow. If I thought Killian was sexy when he told me what to do, the word please just rocketed him into an entirely different dimension of irresistible.
“Okay,” I agreed breathlessly while my heart pounded erratically in my chest and my blood rushed with anticipation.
I heard the smile in his voice and knew he heard the same in mine. “See you soon.”
“Bye, Killian.”
I hesitated another three seconds before I made myself hang up. I was in very dangerous no-you-hang-up-first territory. Gross.
And at the same time—swoon!
I remembered belatedly that I was driving and refocused on the road, straightening out my car that had been gliding a little too freely to the left. Oops.
I determined not to think about Killian until lunch. I would focus on being a responsible driver, on finding the right black pants that I could destroy in the kitchen without regret, and on inventory at the commissary. I wouldn’t think about him again.
Not once.
Starting now.
Chapter Twenty
Three hours later, I parked in Vann’s lot and realized I had done nothing but think about Killian since I hung up the phone with him. Which was obnoxious.
And secretly, very secretly, adorable.
I locked up my car and walked across the street, the August afternoon sun beating down on the top of my head. There was no breeze today, the air was thick with sticky humidity and sweat.
Hurrying across the street, I debated on whether I should go in the side door like Killian always did or through the front even though they weren’t open yet. Nerves pinballed back and forth through my appendages, making me equal parts nervous and excited for a behind the scenes look at Lilou.
The enamored girl in me couldn’t wait to spend more time with Killian. The curious professional couldn’t wait to see the kitchen in all its famed glory or the dining room with the house lights fully up. It was hard to say which side of me was more anxious for lunch.
Wyatt pushed through the side door, carrying boxes to the dumpster and I decided to let him lead me inside. I felt like an imposter walking into the restaurant by myself.
When he turned around, he shot me a friendly smile and a cocked eyebrow. “What are you doing here? I thought today was your day off.”
About thirty replies rolled around in my mouth, but I decided on the truth. So I just said it, with confidence as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Killian asked me to meet him for lunch.”
Wyatt’s bark of surprised laughter was the reason I had contemplated going with something other than the truth. “Did he now?”
“Don’t be weird,” I scolded. “He’s probably trying to steal more recipes.”
“Well, that explains why he pushed our meeting.”
“You can join us,” I suggested casually, trying to downplay the idea that this was a date. “I don’t mind.”
“Not that kind of meeting. There’s a critic from Gourmand stopping by tonight. He wants to make sure we don’t fuck everything up.” Before I could fully grasp how very cool that was, Wyatt swung the heavy steel door open and waved me inside. “But now we can just blame everything on you, so we’re good.”
I glared at him but only for a second because my attention was immediately diverted to the huge industrial kitchen that smelled like heaven and looked even cleaner. White subway tiles on all the walls made the gleaming stainless steel stand out in perfect lines and shiny surfaces.
A few employees in black coats and hats bustled around the kitchen, their hands busy with prep work and their gazes focused on their tasks. My heart kicked against my breastbone, jealous and happy and dreamy all at once.
The huge glass-doored refrigerators were stocked with fresh vegetables and cheeses, meats and more. A huge pot of broth simmered on one of the cooktops and the dishwasher was already buzzing from the morning’s work.
My tiny truck kitchen could fit inside the walk-in cooler.
It hit me harder than it ever had what I’d given up when I came home. At least when I’d been in Europe living hand to mouth, I’d gotten to work in a kitchen. Even if I’d only been a peon in the hierarchy of restaurant staff, I’d still gotten to be a part of the organized chaos.
Nothing could compare to that. Not even the privilege of owning my own business. There was nothing like running around during dinner service, chefs shouting orders and tickets flying through the window. There was nothing like the different smells that tangled together or tired hands after prepping for hours. There was nothing like sending plate after plate of perfect food to a room full of diners that couldn’t comprehend the amount of time, care and effort that went into each dish so they could have an experience instead of a meal.
Just when I thought I would burst from missing the rush so badly, my gaze fell on Killian. He hadn’t noticed me yet. His focus was wholly on the dish at his fingertips, plating it just right so that the visual precis
ion could change your life if you let it.
I stood next to the door, enjoying him in all his glory. He commanded the attention of everyone in the room just by his presence, by the sheer strength of his dominating will. His fingers moved steadily over the dish, never shaking, never questioning what he was doing. He orchestrated the plate. Not the other way around.
My mouth went dry watching him. My blood hummed beneath my skin. And every dormant part of me woke up and started paying attention. I decided I had never seen anything so sexy before, so fully my fantasy in every way.
His forehead wrinkled in concentration. His body bent over the plate as he moved it gracefully in circles deciding the perfect angle and position to add the sauce. He dipped a spoon into a tomato-based cream and slashed lines of it over lush stalks of asparagus sitting on top of creamy golden polenta. Plump mushrooms adorned a perfectly seared piece of filet mignon on the other side of the plate.
Seeing Killian in his element stole my breath and replaced my rational thought with unapologetic lust.
I must have made a sound because he finally lifted that intent gaze to find me hovering like a creeper against the door. His eyes softened and his mouth quirked up on one side. I tried not to melt.
“Hey,” he said casually, like it wasn’t an invasion of his professional privacy for me to be watching every single thing he did. Probably because he couldn’t hear the very, very inappropriate thoughts running through my head.
“Hey.”
“Hungry?”
I suddenly felt very shy. I hadn’t done this with a guy in years. Flirt, I mean. I hadn’t even been interested in someone since Derrek first started to pursue me.
And Killian wasn’t just any guy. He was everything cool, strong and masculine. So very different than me—weird, weak and feminine.
We couldn’t have been bigger opposites.
He couldn’t have been more of what I was convinced I didn’t want.
And yet here I was, quivering and interested and tired of telling my heart what it should want instead of letting it chase after what it knew it wanted.
“Yes,” I answered succinctly.
Killian held my gaze, one hand shaping the side of his beard. “I have something for us out in the dining room. Is that okay?”