Stay A Little Longer E-Book

Kait Nolan

• Herausgeber: Take The Leap Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

She spent her life chasing stars. Now she’s back where it all began—with a broken heart, a shattered dream, and the one man she never planned to see again.

Michelin-starred chef Athena Reynolds has always known who she is and where she’s going. Until it all falls apart. Betrayed by her boyfriend and sous chef, ousted from her own kitchen, and out of options, she returns to Eden’s Ridge to lick her wounds—just until she figures out what’s next.

The last thing she expects is Logan Maxwell.

Once, they shared a wedding weekend fling she never forgot. Now, he’s the man who bought her childhood home—and the quiet presence who offers comfort without strings. Logan doesn’t ask for anything. He just shows up. Steady. Kind. Unshakably patient.

But when Athena gets a second shot at her culinary dream, it comes with a choice: the life she thought she wanted, or the man who might finally feel like home.

Poignant, sexy, and full of heart, Stay a Little Longer is a reverse grumpy-sunshine romance about ambition, belonging, and discovering that sometimes love doesn’t ask you to give up your dreams—it asks you to imagine new ones.

Leseprobe

STAY A LITTLE LONGER

A GRUMPY SOFT FOR SUNSHINE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, HE FALLS FIRST, SMALL TOWN FAMILY ROMANCE

THE MISFIT INN

BOOK THREE

KAIT NOLAN

CONTENTS

Invite

A Letter to Readers

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Bring It On Home

What I Like About You

Chef Sugarlips by Tawna Fenske

Other Books By Kait Nolan

Acknowledgments

About Kait

Stay A Little Longer

Written and published by Kait Nolan

Cover design by Lori Jackson

Copyright 2019 Kait Nolan

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

To those who help us carry the load

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A LETTER TO READERS

Dear Reader,

This book is set in the Deep South. As such, it contains a great deal of colorful, colloquial, and occasionally grammatically incorrect language. This is a deliberate choice on my part as an author to most accurately represent the region where I have lived my entire life. This book also contains swearing and pre-marital sex between the lead couple, as those things are part of the realistic lives of characters of this generation, and of many of my readers.

If any of these things are not your cup of tea, please consider that you may not be the right audience for this book. There are scores of other books out there that are written with you in mind. In fact, I’ve got a list of some of my favorite authors who write on the sweeter side on my website at https://kaitnolan.com/on-the-sweeter-side/

If you choose to stick with me, I hope you enjoy!

Happy reading!

Kait

CHAPTER1

“The port syrup and pear were simply an exquisite pairing with the Hudson Valley foie gras. But my favorite…my favorite was the ricotta and chard ravioli with the garlic cream sauce.”

Chef Athena Reynolds listened as the man with the balding pate and paunch hanging over his belt continued to gush about her food, praising the flavor combinations and hypothesizing about her inspiration and influences as the meal itself turned cold and the carefully perfected sauce began to congeal. A muscle ticked in her jaw at the travesty unfolding before her. She wanted to simply turn and stalk back into her kitchen. She despised this part of the job. The food should speak for itself. She shouldn’t have to. But the investors who’d made her dream of opening her own restaurant a reality insisted that she trot out like a show pony to shake hands, smile, and be gracious. That was far more her oldest sister Pru’s natural inclination. She was the nice one, who’d played peacemaker among their ragtag collection of foster siblings. Athena was…well…her talents lay elsewhere, usually managing sharp things—from her favorite knives to her tongue—with alacrity. She could filet this douchecanoe with just a few, choice words…

But the voice of Jayson Straker—her boyfriend and one of the powers that be—rolled through the back of her mind.

You’ll catch more flies with honey than with your acerbic wit.

It was easier to take that kind of criticism while lingering in bed after excellent orgasms than it was to hear it from any of the other owners. Almost everything about working at Olympus had gotten easier since Jayson bought out one of her original investors. He believed in being on-site and involved in the day-to-day running of things. She’d fought him at first. Fighting was what Athena did best, next to cooking. But it turned out that they shared a vision—one that would capitalize on her James Beard win and the Michelin star she’d earned and catapult them both into the stratosphere of the foodie world. She just had to be patient and make it through this round of ass kissing without maiming or insulting the guy so she could get back to her natural habitat.

“And those glazed cipollini onions with the merlot reduction.”

It’s a cabernet reduction, you asshat. Athena started to say just that and stopped herself.

The nicer you play, the more customers come, and the closer you are to being able to buy out a controlling share in Olympus.

That was her ultimate goal. One she’d expected to be closer to achieving by now. But there had been complications and expenses and other necessary diversions of those funds. And then there was the fact that she hadn’t been able to create anything new in months. She’d been skating by with the help of her well-trained kitchen staff and her sterling reputation as a chef. But that would only take her so far. So here she was, standing in the dining room in the middle of a mad dinner service, listening to this pretentious asshat wax rhapsodic, as if he knew a damned thing about her food, when he didn’t seem to grasp the essential point that it should be eaten when it was served. At the perfect temperature. So help her, if he completed this indignity by pulling out his phone to immortalize the now ruined meal on Instagram, she was coming after him with her chef’s knife.

“I simply can’t wait for the chocolate soufflé. I’m sure the spiced plum sauce will be simply inspired! Though surely peach would be better.”

The smile Athena had fixed on at the start of his recitation felt brittle as glass. She hoped it didn’t come off as the grimace it really was. “Well, that’s certainly—” She searched for something positive to say. “—a well-considered opinion. I appreciate your patronage of Olympus.” Before he could do more than open his mouth to speak again, she rushed on. “I’m so sorry, but I need to be getting back to the kitchen.”

Without waiting for a response, she fled. With luck, Jayson hadn’t noticed that part of the exchange. He’d fuss. And if he did, she’d just cook him something that would shut him up. He always forgot everything else when he ate her food.

Back at the pass, she expected a pileup of plates waiting for her final inspection before being carted out to the dining room by servers. But there were only two dishes under the warmer. A quick glance at the carousel showed way too many tickets still waiting to be started.

“Where the hell is the steak for table seventeen? There should be three quails waiting to go out. And the scallops for table nine. And what about the lamb for table two?”

“Waiting on the entrees, Chef.” The brisk response came from Poppy Woolicott, one of her line chefs.

This was a disaster. The dining room was an absolute madhouse tonight. They couldn’t afford to be backed up.

Athena rounded toward the grill to lambast her sous chef for falling down on the job. But Mari wasn’t at her station.

“Where the fuck is Mari?” she demanded.

Moses Lindsey, her tattooed badass of a pastry chef, jerked his head toward the back stairs. “She rushed out of the kitchen a little after you headed out to the dining room.”

“In the middle of service?” Athena’s voice was quiet, measured. Deadly.

“She looked a little green. Like she maybe got some bad takeout.” This came from Cory Oliver, the newbie on her staff who’d graduated from dishwasher to making stock just two weeks before.

For just a moment, Athena closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, focusing on the sounds of running water, simmering pots, and sizzling skillets. A warrior preparing for battle. Then she was flying, moving through the kitchen toward the grill, shouting orders that had her staff jumping as if the sirens had just blared to warn of an impending airstrike. Which they had. As soon as they got through this mess, someone’s ass was getting smoked.

It had been ages since she’d been on the line herself. The unfortunate reality of the job was the head chef did little of the actual day-to-day cooking, but rather spent her time as a general coordinating the army and checking the quality of everything leaving the kitchen. Running the world was far more her sister Maggie’s purview, but Athena could sure as hell run her little piece of it. Still, she’d missed the actual preparation, the juggling of cooking multiple dishes and seeing them all to perfection. She lost herself in the rhythm of it, in the scents and sounds of the food. The harsh edge of frustration and the constantly simmering anger began to dull. This was her therapy. Her bliss. In this little corner of her universe, she controlled all.

By the time they hit a few minutes’ lull, Mari still hadn’t returned to her station. Mariana Grafton never dropped the ball. It was what made her an invaluable member of the team. One of the primary reasons Olympus was a success. She was a damned good sous chef. Second in command. She’d never bail in the middle of service unless something was horribly wrong. So because she was family—because everyone who worked in Athena’s kitchen eventually became family if they stayed long enough—worry edged out the anger as Athena went hunting for her friend.

“Moses, keep an eye on things.”

“You got it, Chef.”

She headed first to the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen, but the door hung open, the little room dark. The alley out back was likewise empty. Back inside, Athena jogged down the narrow stairs that led to the basement, which housed their wine cave and the offices. Not that Athena used the glorified closet assigned to her. But Jayson’s office, where he managed the financial side of things, was down here. It was where they usually shared a nightcap and deconstructed each service to decide what had gone well, what could be done better. It was also the only room outside the bar that had a landline, as Athena refused to have a phone interrupting the sanctity of her kitchen and forbade cell phones during service.

His door was closed. Beyond it she could hear the faint murmur of voices, then a sound like crying. Alarm cut through what remained of Athena’s temper. Was it Mari’s father? She knew he hadn’t been doing well these past couple of months. Mari had worried he’d been pushing himself too hard, that he was going to have a heart attack or a stroke. She’d been an absolute rock when Athena’s mother had died last year, picking up the slack when Athena had been almost too broken to function. Athena would sure as hell return the favor.

She opened the door. The words of support died on her tongue as she took in the scene on the other side. Mari sat on Jayson’s desk in her chef’s coat, her pants dangling to the floor from one ankle, her head thrown back. Jayson stood between her legs, his own pants around his knees, the ass Athena had always so admired flexed as he froze, right in the midst of driving into her sous chef.

For one stunning moment, Athena couldn’t breathe. There were too many betrayals to process. Not only were her boyfriend and the woman she believed to be her best friend having an affair, they were doing it all but under her nose, in the middle of service, in the restaurant they’d all worked and slaved to make the best. The fragile trust she so rarely gave cracked under the weight of this new reality, and from the faultline poured rage.

“What the actual fuck?”

“Athena, I can explain,” Jayson began.

“Really? You think there’s any sort of explanation I’ll accept for how your dick happened to fall into my sous chef? Stay the hell away from me.” Athena rounded on Mari. “And you, don’t you dare step foot back in my kitchen. You’re fired.”

Mari made some sound of protest, but Athena was already turning, already rushing back upstairs as the two of them fumbled to put their clothes back on.

She couldn’t afford to lose her shit. Tonight was a full house. There were a myriad of important guests. But the fury built in her chest, so scorching hot and bright, she wondered smoke didn’t pour out of her nostrils like a dragon. Her staff paused for half a second when she reappeared.

“You all have work to do!” she barked.

No one said a word. They just leapt back into motion as she crossed to the carousel and yanked down the next ticket. Poppy knew better than to interrupt when Athena elbowed her out of place and began to dice the vegetables herself. This wasn’t how things were done, but she didn’t give a good damn. This was her kitchen. Her world. She needed to find some control over something right this minute or the heat in her chest was going to go nuclear. So she diced onions with vicious speed and precision, her favorite Damascus steel knife a comfort in her hand.

He’d cheated on her. That was bad enough. But she realized Jayson had sent her out to schmooze with that pompous prick to get her out of the way so he could have a quickie with her best friend—or maybe not so much of a quickie given they were still going at it when she’d found them. And they’d done it here. In her restaurant. Her haven. Her dream. The image of the two of them was burned into her retinas. The arch of Mari’s neck. The straining muscles of his arms as he gripped her hips and—

“Athena.” Jayson’s voice sounded pained.

She didn’t think, didn’t even hesitate before she whirled and hurled the knife. Someone screamed. Jayson dove to the floor, seconds before the wickedly sharp blade dug into the wall, an inch from where his head had been.

“You bastard,” she snarled. “Get the fuck out of my kitchen.”

“Are you crazy?” he demanded, rolling to his knees and staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“I’ll show you crazy, you lying, cheating son of a bitch!” She grabbed up another knife.

Jayson lunged for a huge, stainless-steel bowl full of greens, holding it up as a shield and spilling salad everywhere as she advanced on him.

And then her feet were flailing as big, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her off the ground. “Drop the knife, Chef.” Moses’s thick rumble of a voice came at her ear.

“Let me go!”

“Not until you drop the knife. You can beat his ass with your fists if you want, but the knife ups the charge. You don’t wanna go where they’d send you for that, whether he deserves it or not,” Moses murmured. “Drop it, Athena, before you do something you’ll regret.”

She’d already done so many things she regretted. What was one more?

But she did as he ordered, opening her hand and listening as the blade clattered to the floor. Moses set her down, hesitating before releasing her. Her breath sawed in and out like a bellows as she stared at her former lover and realized he’d permanently tainted what was hers. So there was grief boiling up beneath the anger as she fisted her hands and retaliated in the only way she had left.

“I quit. Good luck running Olympus without me.”

* * *

“He’s gorgeous! Those big brown eyes and all that glossy red hair.” Ari Reynolds-Bohannon pressed both hands to her heart and fell back against the front seat of the truck with a gusty and dramatic sigh. “I’m in love.”

Logan Maxwell suppressed a sigh of his own, grateful the girl was talking about the latest gelding to be added to his stable instead of Sebastian, his new stable master. At fourteen, that could go either way. Better he encourage the horse crazy over the boy crazy. “Chestnut. That coat color is called chestnut.”

“Chestnut,” Ari repeated.

Logan’s muscles ached, reminding him he’d been in the fields since dawn and awake with livestock an hour before that. Spring planting was in full swing around the farm, and his days were filling up. But he’d been carving out time to teach Ari to ride in exchange for her help around the barn with the horses. She had the makings of a good little equestrian, and he got a kick out of her enthusiasm. So he dug up a grin as she continued to chatter on about the horse’s many virtues.

“He’s gonna need a barn name, you know. Think you can come up with one?”

“Me? Really?”

“Sure.” If the animal worked out like he hoped, he’d be Ari’s new mount. Not that he was telling her that yet.

“That’d be awesome! I’ll make a list.”

Of course she would. He chuckled. “You do that.”

“Can I come out again tomorrow?”

“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about. You know we’re about to be hitting the real busy season around the farm. I’m gonna be tied up a lot more as we get closer to harvest.”

Ari’s face fell. “Oh. Well, I understand. Maybe we can pick back up in the fall?”

That instant acceptance of disappointment just killed him. A former foster kid, Ari had been adopted just before Christmas by his friend Pru and her husband, Flynn. They were a devoted, stable family, who’d gone through hell to make sure the girl didn’t get sent back into the system after the death of her foster mother—Pru’s own mom, Joan, who’d been taking in foster kids for twenty-five years. Not for the first time, Logan wondered what Ari’s life had been like before she came into the Reynolds family.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking, if it’s okay with your parents, you could maybe spend a little more time at the farm this summer. Take a bit more responsibility with the horses.”

The teenager’s eyes went round. “Really? What about Sebastian?”

The ex-Army ranger was technically the one in charge of the horses. Which was to say, he lived in a little cabin on the farm and managed the daily feeding, care, and training of the half-dozen rescue animals Logan had somehow acquired simply because there’d been a need and he had an empty barn. But that number would probably be rising soon, and they’d need more able bodies to do all the work.

“He could use a hand, and mine will be full. You’ve proved yourself capable and a quick learner.”

Ari clasped her hands and widened those big brown eyes in an expression that reminded Logan of his baby sister, Laurel. “Will you come in and talk to Mom and Dad about it? Please?”

He really hadn’t had the time to drive all the way into Eden’s Ridge to drop her off. The tractor had crapped out again, and if he didn’t get the damned thing running for tomorrow, he wouldn’t get the north field plowed and the broccoli seedlings in the ground before the rain hit this weekend. He’d had enough trouble working around the extra wet spring to get seedlings planted. But Pru had texted that something had come up and begged. Since riding lessons for Ari had been his idea in the first place, here they were, piled in his truck and nearly to her house. If he went in, he’d get drawn into a visit because that’s how life went in the south. But hell if he could resist that face. He needed a break anyway. It was getting on toward dinner time, and he was optimistic enough to hope he’d score an invite so he didn’t have to scrounge for his own supper tonight. Cooking took energy he didn’t have.

“Yeah, all right.”

“Yes!” She pumped her fist and he swallowed his chuckle. This kid was a trip.

The late April sun still rode high, slanting through the trees to dapple the big Victorian house that Pru and her sisters had turned into a bed and breakfast last year. The Misfit Inn nestled among the trees, perched on top of a bluff overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains. Off to one side, work trucks surrounded the converted barn that now housed the day spa. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were doing over there, but the Reynolds sisters were nothing if not ambitious.

Parking in the circular drive, Logan climbed out of the truck, trailing Ari up the steps and following her through the front door without preamble. She made a beeline for the kitchen, toward the babble of voices that made it clear the gang was all here. He wondered if he was inadvertently interrupting a family meeting.

“Athena!” Ari’s joyful squeal had Logan’s step faltering.

But it was too late to hide. He’d already made it to the doorway.

The sight of her was a sucker punch, as it always was. Even with lines of fatigue bracketing her eyes—typical after the full day of travel it usually took her to get here from Chicago—she was the female equivalent of a shot of top shelf tequila. Her long brown hair was caught back in a tail that trailed over one shoulder. The mouth he was used to seeing curled in a sardonic smile bowed up as Ari grabbed her in an enthusiastic hug, but she didn’t quite pull it off. There was something, some chink in her usual armor that had his curiosity piqued. Athena wasn’t one to show weakness of any kind, and it had him wondering what that vulnerability was about.

Athena wrinkled her nose. “You smell like horse.”

“That’s because I’ve been grooming them all afternoon.” Beaming, Ari swung around. “Look who’s here, Logan!”

Athena’s gaze snapped up, catching sight of him in the doorway. In an instant, she pokered up. “Hey Logan.”

“Hey.”

Everybody started greeting him at once, but he was only half paying attention because Athena’s gray eyes were still on him and he couldn’t look away. Unbidden, his mind went to her sister Kennedy’s wedding last summer, when he’d met those eyes across the crowded reception. Her smile then had been flirtatious and playful, and the tension between them had been thick enough to strum, even from twenty feet away. Giving in to that electric need had led to the best night of his life. But that was all it had been. One night. And a handful of phone calls that made them…not quite friends but more than a simple wedding hookup. It had ended there, in that liminal space. Her life was in Chicago and by the time he’d seen her again at Christmas, she’d been attached to someone else, so his longing for a repeat performance had come to nothing. And that was for the best. He didn’t have time for…anything.

But as he stood at the edge of the big kitchen, with several of her family members and the big farmhouse table between them, he realized the electricity was still there, humming between them. He wished he’d taken the time for more than just changing out of his muddy boots before coming over here.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Logan Maxwell. Farmer and master of understatement.

If Athena was as affected as he, she didn’t show it. “The restaurant is under renovation, and I’ve got some time off, so I drove home with the idea that I’d help out with the inn. With Pru getting close to her third trimester, I didn’t figure y’all would turn down some extra hands.”

Pru rubbed a hand over her pronounced baby bump. “You are not wrong.”

“How long can you stay?” Ari demanded, draping an arm around her shoulders.

In the beat of hesitation, as she wrapped an arm around her niece’s waist, Logan saw Athena reach for something other than the truth. “Not sure, exactly. At least a couple of weeks. Probably longer. Renovations are so uncertain.”

“You’ve got that right,” Pru agreed. “You probably saw all the trucks. Porter’s been trying to work on the expansion for the spa around appointment times, and it’s driving me absolutely batty.”

As conversation turned to construction issues, Logan wondered about the lengthy stay and whether Athena’s boyfriend had likewise chosen to come to Tennessee during the renovation. He had something to do with Olympus, right? There was no sign of him in the kitchen, no other luggage piled in the corner but her single suitcase. What did that mean? Was he still in the picture? It wasn’t like he could ask in front of this audience.

“—stay for dinner?”

Logan blinked, realizing Pru was talking to him and he hadn’t been paying a damned bit of attention. “Sorry?”

“You should stay for dinner.”

“Xander will be here,” Kennedy added, referring to her husband and Logan’s best friend.

“Do stick around and help me balance out all the estrogen,” Flynn added. Pru shot her husband a mock glare, to which the Irishman responded with a smacking kiss and a spate of Gaelic that had her cheeks going pink.

For a moment, Logan considered it. He’d come hoping for food, and if he stayed, he might actually find out what he wanted to know. But what purpose would that serve? Even if Athena was single again, she’d never give up Olympus and he’d never give up his land. There’d be no picking up where they left off that hot summer night. And that was for the best because he wouldn’t want to stop with just one more taste. So better to let that attraction fade with time and distance.

“I really can’t. I’ve got a date with a recalcitrant tractor.”

Ari’s lip instantly rolled out in a pout.

Logan couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Athena to see her reaction. Not disappointment. Not relief. Maybe the pull was one-sided after all this time.

The weight of Pru’s speculative gaze made him want to twitch. Through circumstances he didn’t quite know the details of, she knew about his night with Athena. She’d kept the secret as a bit of quid pro quo because of the shenanigans she’d gotten up to with Flynn that night and had said no more about it. But he knew she thought of it every time he and Athena were in the same room.

Ignoring the look, Logan focused on the reason he’d come inside in the first place. “I really just stopped in to ask if it’d be okay if Ari did some more work on the farm this summer, with the horses. If you can spare her from the inn, that is.”

“Please, Mom? Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeease?”

“It’d be minimum wage and more riding lessons for payment.”

“I’d get paid?” Those eyes lit up again. “This just gets better and better.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Pru promised.

Logan just nodded and took a step back. “I’m gonna leave y’all to visit. I need to get on back to work.” He was already turning away, as he looked back at Athena. “Welcome home.”

She inclined her head. “It was good to see you, Logan.”

Was it?

He told himself again that it didn’t matter as he lifted his hand in a wave and walked away. But he knew he’d be puzzling over the mystery of Athena Reynolds the whole time he fought with that damned tractor.

CHAPTER2

When Jayson’s number flashed up on the screen of her cell phone, Athena almost smiled. Not even twenty-four hours in Tennessee. He hadn’t wasted time getting to the groveling, and she appreciated that. Not that it would be anywhere near enough to make her accept whatever bullshit explanation he intended to offer for his cheating, but abject supplication would go a long way toward mollifying her temper in the absence of actual bloodshed. Which she owed Moses a thank you for preventing.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t hang up. Please. We have things to discuss.”

She gritted her teeth at the sound of his voice, her empty fingers clenching for the knife that wasn’t there. “I don’t think I’m much in the mood for discussion.”

“I’m sorry for how things went down.”

“You’re sorry you got caught, you mean.”

He heaved a sigh, and she could just imagine him pinching the bridge of that blade-straight nose. “Athena, I’m trying to apologize.”

“There is no ‘I’m sorry’ big enough to make up for what you did. If you think you’re going to weasel your way back into my bed, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I’m not calling for that.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. She didn’t want him back. She hadn’t been in love with Jayson so much as the idea of him. Of a man who shared her passion for food, her vision for the future. It wasn’t heartbreak she was wrestling with but sheer, unmitigated fury at her own stupidity for trusting him in the first place. Still, him not begging her to take him back was a blow to her pride.

“Then why are you calling?”

“About Olympus.”

Ah, here was what she really wanted. Him imploring her to come back to take her rightful place in the kitchen. That was what really mattered in all of this.

“I want to buy out your share in the restaurant.”

Her brain staggered and stopped. She hadn’t heard that right. For a full ten seconds she sat on her bed, mouth agape as she tried to figure out what he’d really said.

“Athena, are you there?”

“You…what?”

“I think we can both agree after how things ended that working together will be impossible. You made the right decision in leaving, so I want to buy out your share. You’ll be free and clear to do your own thing.”

Which really meant, I’ll be free to put the chef of my choosing in your place. She was under no delusion that it would be anyone other than her backstabbing bitch of a sous chef.

The tide of fresh betrayal rolled over her like a tsunami, knocking her off whatever even keel she’d managed to cobble together since she’d left Chicago.

Had they planned this? Had the two of them played her? Known her well enough to predict that she’d fly off the handle and quit her own restaurant in retaliation for the affair? The very idea of it had her blood boiling.

“Do you have any idea how insulting that is?” She snarled the words, wishing for something sharper that would do more damage. “Olympus is mine, Jayson. My vision. My dream. My fucking Michelin star. It isn’t Olympus without me.”

“You are, unquestionably, the creative mind behind the menu and the concepts. But the recipes belong to the restaurant, and you don’t own the controlling share. I do.”

Of course he’d throw that back in her face. The truth of it scalded her. She shoved up from the bed to pace. “You bastard.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing here, Athena. I’ll make you a generous offer for your portion.” He named a figure that had her brows climbing to her hairline. “I know you need the money.”

And that was just another betrayal. She’d cared for him, confided in him. He knew the reason she hadn’t been able to buy up more shares in the restaurant than she had. And damn him for using that against her.

Damn him for being right.

But if she did this, if she handed her baby over to him, to them, she wouldn’t just be severing professional ties. She’d be lacing that bridge with C-4 and blowing it to kingdom come.

She tried to imagine going back to Chicago, back to Olympus. Tried to imagine some sudden windfall that would allow her to turn the tables and buy that controlling share from him. And she knew almost at once that she couldn’t do it. He’d poisoned the whole place for her. She’d never again be able to cook in that kitchen without imagining them there. Without remembering the pain and the fury and wanting to stab him all over again.

She let out a slow, controlled breath. “Fine. I’ll sell you my share.” Thinking about Maggie’s blood-thirsty negotiation tactics, she shot a figure back at him that was a good thirty percent higher than what he’d already quoted her. He’d probably say no, but she might as well try to get in one last lick on him.

“Done. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up and sent to you as soon as possible.”

Staggered by his ready agreement, she could only stare at the wall.

Jayson’s tone went soft. “You’re a brilliant chef, Athena. I wish you all the best.”

Before she could snarl back an appropriately scathing reply, he’d hung up.

She dropped the phone onto her bed before she could hurl it at the wall. It was over. The dream she’d fought for tooth and nail, sweated blood and tears to make a reality, was gone. On some level she’d known that when she walked out, and it hadn’t stopped her. The hurt, the anger, was too huge to stop her from throwing it away because escape had been more important. Now she had no job, no source of income to take care of the responsibilities that hung around her neck like a noose.

What had she done?

Panic and grief welled up, tightening her throat, making her eyes burn.

No. Fuck this. She hadn’t cried at her mother’s funeral. She wasn’t going to cry about this. Tears were senseless. A waste of hydration and energy. But she needed to do something to let all of this out.

In less than a minute, she was searching through kitchen cabinets and drawers, taking stock of the contents of the refrigerator and freezer. She needed comfort food. Not merely the soothing deliciousness of carbs and fat but the act of creating it. She needed to prove that something in her world still made sense.

Ari came in, Kennedy behind her, as she piled ingredients on the big island.

The girl dumped her backpack in one corner. “Ooo, you’re cooking! What’s on the menu?”

“Shepherd’s pie.” Because it had been Mom’s favorite and being back in this house where she’d spent her teenage years made her ache to curl up at Joan’s feet and ball yarn as she spilled out the whole sorry mess and waited for her adoptive mother’s unique brand of wisdom to make her feel better. But she’d never get the chance for that again.

“I love shepherd’s pie. Can I help?”

Before she could come up with a response that wasn’t a growl, Kennedy swung an arm around Ari’s shoulders. “Athena’s pretty territorial about her kitchen space. She doesn’t like anybody underfoot.”

“I can follow directions,” Ari insisted.

Athena wanted to say no. She wanted to be alone. Wanted the chance to actually cook, preparing a meal herself from beginning to end, with no waiting patrons, no stakeholders, no prospective critics, no snooty-ass foodie wannabes putting in their two cents. There’d been no opportunity for that in months. But looking at the open enthusiasm and gangly limbs of her niece as she folded herself onto a stool at the counter, Athena couldn’t bring herself to snap at the girl. This upset wasn’t about her and she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of Athena’s shitty coping skills.

“You know how to brown ground beef?”

Ari grinned and brought her hand to her brow in a sharp salute. “Aye, Captain!”

Despite the simmering rage, Athena’s lip twitched. “The correct response is ‘Yes, Chef.’”

As Ari slid off her stool and came around to pull out a skillet, Kennedy lifted her brows in surprise. Of everyone in the family, she was the only one Athena had ever trusted in the kitchen.

After a moment’s hesitation, she jerked her shoulders. “You wanna prep the mushrooms?”

Kennedy’s smile spread slow. “Yes, Chef.”

This, too, was a Thing. She hadn’t cooked with Kennedy in years. She’d barely spoken to her sister to spew anything other than accusations about how Kennedy had selfishly left all of them behind when she turned eighteen and stayed away a full decade. When Kennedy had returned to Eden’s Ridge for Mom’s funeral, it had been…bad. Still reeling from the loss, Athena had needed a punching bag, and Kennedy had been a prime target. But the situation hadn’t been what they’d all believed. Her reasons for leaving hadn’t been selfish. And over the past year, Athena found she’d finally let go of the resentment she’d been toting around.

As Kennedy moved smoothly around her, she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. This felt familiar. Good.

At the opposite side of the island, her sister began cleaning the baby Bella mushrooms. “This feels like old times.”

Athena glanced up, her knife not slowing as she efficiently cubed the potatoes she’d scrubbed. “Nah. There’d have to be Verdi playing at ear-splitting volume and Lorenzo constantly trying to pinch our asses.”

“I do not miss that man.”

“Who was Lorenzo?” Ari asked.

“Lorenzo Ossani is one of the most lecherous, temperamental chefs to ever walk the streets of Florence, Italy. He’s also a freaking god of food. Kennedy and I spent a memorable summer sweating it out in his kitchen, learning everything he’d teach us. The stuff I learned from him was the reason I got into Le Cordon Bleu.”

“That was the last time we cooked together,” Kennedy murmured.