French Roast (14 page)
Authors: Ava Miles
Tags: #romance, #contemporary, #small town, #New Adult, #foodie romance
“It’s simple. They either want the millions of dollars in revenue and new jobs or they don’t. Gambling can be a sticky issue, but from the research I’ve done, Dare will be receptive.”
“I agree,” she replied, running through community groups in her head. “There will be some resistance, but nothing significant. Likely something religious or environmental.”
“I can’t address any religious concerns, but the plans represent the highest environmental standards. Platinum LEED Building Standards, if you know the term.”
She didn’t, but it sounded impressive. “That’s good. The economic infusion will be a big draw.”
“It always is. I’m counting on that.”
As they left the restaurant, her entire future looked different.
Chapter 17
B
rian made his third pass by Jill’s house since the crack of dawn. Her car was still gone, and Margie had told him she wasn’t coming into the coffee shop today. He kept calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail each time. Where could she be? He’d driven by all their usual places after tossing and turning the whole night and realizing she was right.
He was terrified of what he felt for her. Always had been. As an eighteen year-old kid, he’d had the excuse of youth and inexperience, but he was a man now. It was time to step up.
And even though his fear made him feel like a boulder was pressing down on his chest, he needed to find her so he could assure both of them they’d be okay. Losing Jill was not an option.
He hoped to Christ he could find her before he had to head to work.
He was pacing in his apartment when his cell rang. “Hello,” he answered, not recognizing the number.
“Brian,” the rough voice scratched out, “it’s Arthur Hale.”
Jill’s grandfather
never
called him. For a split second, he imagined the worst. Hadn’t he been looking for Jill for eight hours now? She’d been so distraught when she’d left… Just look at what had happened to Jemma. Life could change in a New York minute. Frozen in place, his heart rapped so hard against his ribs, he was sure it would burst through his chest.
“Is Jill all right?” he rasped out.
“Why would you think something’s wrong?”
“Something’s wrong. I can’t find her
anywhere.
Her phone is off. And she’s not at the coffee shop.” She was always there.
“Don’t panic, Brian. I’m sure everything is fine.” The phone clicked, and the local radio station started streaming over the line. Arthur Hale had put him on hold. The broadcast droned on about a winter clearance sale at Rugged Trails Sporting Goods.
He resumed his pacing, wanting to throw the phone against the wall. He shouldn’t have let her drive home last night. The roads were icy. She’d been emotionally distraught. God, should he call Peggy? Part of him knew he was overreacting, but she’d been so upset, and she loved to drive fast. She could have rolled down an incline. His gut gripped, thinking about her lying in a canyon. Dead.
In that one moment, he saw a life without Jill.
No corkscrew red curls bobbing around her face when she laughed with gusto. No soft, silky skin to caress in the middle of the night after they’d made love. No one to be his confidante. No one to have his back always, even when he was the one at fault. How could he keep going if she wasn’t there to make him smile?
He put his hand to his temple as realization dawned. He loved her.
Really
loved her. Not just as a friend.
How could he not have seen it?
“Meredith said Jill texted her that she was going to Denver for the day,” Arthur said when he came back on the line.
He had to sit down, the relief making his head spin. “I see.”
“I take it you two fought about the French woman?”
Twelve rounds. He rubbed his temple. “Yes.”
“Why don’t you come over to the house? I have something I want to discuss with you.”
That didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded downright foreboding. Arthur Hale asking him over on a work day? “Fine.”
“See you soon.”
Brian darted to the bathroom to change—no way was he meeting Arthur looking grungy. He nicked himself twice shaving.
He tried Jill’s phone again and left a message. “Jill, will you please call me? Your grandpa said you’re in Denver for the day. Why are you there? Please, call me. We need to talk. I have something to tell you.”
He wiped the blood running down his chin. He wanted to say he loved her, but didn’t want the first time to be over the phone. She deserved better than that. Starting today, he was going to treat her like she meant the world to him.
Once he was presentable, he headed over to Arthur Hale’s home. When he arrived, Arthur gestured him inside with his ivory-topped cane. He hadn’t been in this house since he was a teenager, but he had a lot of wonderful memories here. Arthur’s deceased wife, bless her soul, had made it an inviting place, blending pieces from her husband’s trips overseas with items from local handicraft stores.
Usually, he felt at home.
Today only a cold draft welcomed him.
“Thanks for coming,” Arthur said. “Let’s talk back here.” He gestured down the hallway.
Palms sweating, Brian followed Arthur into his office and halted abruptly. Tanner and Meredith were sitting on the brown leather sofa below the wall of photos of Arthur shaking hands with presidents from this country and others. The feeling of being ambushed crawled up his neck.
“Meredith. Tanner,” he managed to choke out. “I assume this must be about Jill.”
“In part,” Arthur confirmed. He tapped his cane on the floor like a judge would a gavel “I’m glad we don’t have to dance around. Meredith and I both did some digging about what happened with you in New York. We wanted to talk to you about the alleged theft of your boss’ secret recipes. I have to admit we were all surprised to find out the police had questioned you.”
Being called out by the Hale family burned like a blister. He hated to think of what Jill’s parents thought of him now. They’d been his lifeline growing up. “I didn’t do it if that’s what you’re asking.” He locked his knees. “I’m pretty sure Andre, my former boss, staged the whole thing.”
“Don’t you mean Simca’s husband?” Meredith snarled, her eyes full of fire.
“Mere,” Tanner cautioned.
Meredith’s arms could have been a straight jacket. “I won’t leave Jill in the dark about something this serious.”
Right. Sisters. “I’ve already told her about the recipe incident.” But not about Simca being married. His worst fear had been realized. If they knew about the affair, then Jill knew too—or would soon. Shit. “Wait a minute. Is this why Jill’s gone radio silent? Did you tell her all this?”
“No,” Arthur answered, crossing his arms over his navy cardigan. “We wanted to talk to you first. We know you and Jill are thinking of opening a restaurant together.”
Jesus, he hadn’t expected this. He shifted on his feet. He wasn’t much relieved by the fact that they hadn’t said anything yet. If Jill didn’t know, then
last night
had made her bolt. Not encouraging. “So you didn’t want her partnering with a thief. Thank you very much.” He’d taken a lot of insults in New York after the incident, but coming from them, it felt like a knife in the gut.
But it was time to come clean, starting now. “Jill doesn’t know Simca was married. Yet.” He cleared his throat. Man, that had been hard to say.
“I see.” Meredith’s words shot out like gunfire. “You’d better tell her, Brian. Or I will.”
“I’m planning on it. I haven’t yet because I was worried about how she’d react. I wanted—”
“Then you know my granddaughter well,” Arthur interrupted, a frown on his face.
“How could you do this, Brian?” Meredith asked, her voice strained. “I’ve known you since you were born. You were raised better than this.”
“Meredith,” Tanner reproached. “It’s not our business.”
Her words made Brian clench his fists, but he understood why she was being so harsh. Her ex-husband had been unfaithful. “Look, I was stupid and reckless, and I paid for it. At first, I thought they were separated. When I found out that wasn’t totally true, I didn’t end it. Simca wasn’t concerned, and it wasn’t hurting anyone. I’m not proud of it.”
“And what about now?” Arthur asked.
“I want to try to make things right with Jill.” His mind spun, wondering if that was even a possibility now.
“Then why is that French woman hanging around here?” Meredith asked, her voice hard.
Standing before them defending himself made him realize this conversation would be even harder with Jill. “She wants us to open a restaurant together in New York.”
“And you’re considering it?” Meredith spit out.
Now that he knew he loved Jill, everything looked different. He needed to talk to her about this, not her sister. “Jill and I are talking about things.” Or they would. Once she returned.
Meredith pointed at him. “From where I’m sitting, you need help rebuilding your rep after what happened in New York. That’s why you came home, right?”
He nodded. “And to persuade Jill to be in my life again.”
“Was Jill only the means to securing your own place?”
“Babe,” Tanner cautioned again.
Brian ground his teeth like he was chewing one of Arthur’s red hots. “I didn’t come back thinking we’d open a restaurant together. I came here to get back on track and see if I could resurrect friendships that were important to who I am. Jemma. Pete. And, most of all, Jill. Opening the restaurant was her idea, remember? I was reconciled to putting in some time at the Chop House.”
Meredith leaned forward. “I don’t know if you being here is good for Jill.”
His heart blistered like peppers over a gas flame. “That’s for Jill to decide.”
“I don’t want her to get hurt.” Meredith clenched Tanner’s hand so hard her knuckles turned white.
“I don’t want her to get hurt either, Meredith. I’m trying to fix it.”
“Then tell her the truth,” Arthur encouraged. “You have two days.”
Great, an ultimatum. Like he needed more pressure. “I was trying to.”
“Jill will be back,” Tanner assured. “She probably just needs to lick her wounds a while.”
Right. Her wounds. His mind flashed to the sound of her crying in the bathroom after they’d made love. His energy crashed. “Are we finished here?”
Meredith stood and put her hands on her hips. “If you’re really planning on leaving Dare, you should let Jill go now. She never got over you leaving the last time.”
He drilled Meredith with a stare. “I know that, dammit.” His head buzzed. His hands were clammy. He needed to get out of here.
Arthur inclined his cane. “Brian, be good to my granddaughter, or else you’ll answer to me.”
“And me,” Meredith intoned with an edge.
Brian gripped the chair’s arms, not bothering to explain how terrible he would feel if he hurt her like that again, how it would tear out his own heart. “I will,” he promised and walked out.
He checked his phone again. Nothing. When she got back from Denver, he’d tell her everything and see where that left them.
Loving Jill was a game changer.
Chapter 18
J
ill held her head high as she strutted into Don’t Soy With Me the next day. Mac had provided her with more details in their morning meeting. She’d managed to maintain her cool while they discussed his hefty financial offer. And since she was the queen of building scenarios, she’d numbly bought a pregnancy test before leaving town in case her period was late. If she bought one in Dare, the rumors would travel far and wide.
Her night in Denver had given her a renewed sense of control over her life. She had options. Facing Brian wouldn’t be easy, but she was confident she could do it.
“Hey, Margie,” she called out to her barista.
“Well, hello there. How was your stay in Denver? More importantly,
where
did you stay?”
Rumors were probably already flying, given that Denver was normally a day trip for most Dare Valley citizens. “Wonderful. I decided to have a night away at a nice hotel.” Something she’d never done.
“Mm-hmm,” Margie muttered.
Jill just smiled enigmatically as she circled the counter. Let them think what they wanted.
The evening crowd was hunched over with fatigue. Late night studying and partying made this one of their busiest times. People needed a caffeine fix to keep going. The new cashier, Pat, was working out well, and he kept the line of customers moving along.
She jingled the bell on the counter, deciding to give herself her favorite pick-me-up. “Okay, everyone. Mamma’s here, and she wants to make coffee.”
Margie smirked, her eyebrow ring winging up like someone had pulled it with a string.
“You up for dueling espresso machines?” Jill pushed up her sleeves.
Margie flicked her wrist. “You are frisky. Bring it.”
Jill danced a salsa step, loosening up her muscles. “Pat, get the timer. Take the line’s order, and we’ll split them down the middle. See who finishes first.”
A few guys
woofed,
and people sidled up to the bar to watch. Jill hadn’t done this for weeks, but it was always a real crowd pleaser. Pat switched the smooth jazz to boisterous Irish music. Flutes, fiddles, and drums wove a peppy melody, bringing to mind leprechauns racing against each other for a pot of gold.
“You ready, Margie?”
Jill placed the list on the counter and waited for Pat’s signal. When he brought his hand down, she spun into action. Blocking out the raucous crowd, she memorized the first five drinks on her list. Double espresso. Hazelnut mocha. Carmel macchiato. Triple chocolate hot chocolate without the whipped cream. On it went. People bought second rounds just to keep it going. She brushed moist curls back from her face as she made the last order—a vanilla latte with extra foam.
“Go, go, go, go,” the crowd chanted in the background.
She ran through the motions and topped off the foam. When she set it aside, Pat called, “Stop.”
Jill put her hands on her waist, her heart knocking in her chest. Margie froze in the act of pouring milk into a chai tea latte.
“Winner,” Pat shouted, lifting Jill’s hand. She thrust the other in the air. Shaking her stuff in a victory dance, she felt her mood lift.
“Eight orders in a little over two minutes.” Pat showed her the clock. “Not too shabby, boss.”
“Pretty damn good.”
Margie came over. “It’s one of your best times. Maybe
I
need some time off. Wink. Wink.”
“Feel free to ask,” Jill smartly responded. Then she turned to their audience. “Who makes the best coffee in Dare?”
Like a crowd at a Justin Timberlake concert, people yelled, whistled, and cheered her name. The buzz swept her along in a tide of delight. She wiped the moisture from her face, grinning like a fool.
“Fairly impressive,” a voice called in a husky French purr.
Jill’s mind stuttered, the intruder instantly deleting the joy program from her system. She turned. The French Barbie stood at the counter in skinny jeans, knee-high stiletto boots, and a cashmere wrap. Her blond hair glowed against the black neckline. Jill considered her own outfit—a pink fleece, jeans, and Uggs. Great.
She was so removing French Roast from her coffee menu. She’d never liked its bittersweet taste and charcoal briquette tones, cemented by a thin body. Rather like the woman in front of her.
Pat stepped forward. “I’ve got this, Jill. What can I get you?”
Simone fingered her oversized designer silver purse. “I’ll try your espresso. See how it compares with mine.”
Jill bit her lip to keep her mouth shut. “Why don’t you go to the office?” Margie asked, tugging at her arm. “I need your signature on some purchase orders.”
“No, it’s fine.” She needed to find her spine. Today was a good day.
“I’d like to speak with you while I wait for my espresso,” Simone added.
Jill met her gaze. “Fine. We can talk in my office.”
The change in the crowd couldn’t be more noticeable. The rowdy fun fizzled, and her customers’ sudden silence made her cringe.
She led the way, the ice-pick taps of Simone’s shoes echoing on the hardwood floor. When they were both inside, she shut the door and headed for her chair.
Simone stood, hands on her cover-model hips. “I wanted to tell you I only have Brian’s best interests at heart. I am here to make amends for what happened in New York. He’s an incredible chef. He should not waste his talents in this small town. I hope you will not try and keep him here.”
Oh, yeah, this woman was not to be underestimated. “That’s up to Brian.”
“Yes, it is. If he returns to New York, I will do everything in my power to convince him that we are made for each other. Of course, you dislike me. That is no surprise. I feel the same way.” The woman fingered the white tips of her manicure—French, of course. “But you need to understand. Brian
loves
cooking. If he is not able to do it the way he desires, his spirit will die. How would you feel if you were responsible for that?”
Guilt. Manipulation. This woman knew how to wield her weapons. “You’re one to talk. If you had stood up for him in the first place and offset your partner’s accusations, perhaps he wouldn’t be where he is now.”
Simone made a humming sound. “That is true. I am doing what I can to rectify that now.”
Her Good Samaritan act pissed Jill off. “Why don’t you date men your own age?” Sheer jealously got the better of her.
“You are so provincial. Brian is an amazing man. Why would I let something as meaningless as age stand in the way?” Then her eyes narrowed. “To answer your question though, it’s rather Pygmalion. There’s nothing better than helping a man grow into the person he wants to be—and the chef, of course. And then, of course, there is that youthful sexual stamina…”
She wanted to hurl her stapler between the woman’s eyes. “I think you should leave now.”
Simone stroked her purse’s strap and made a tsking noise. “Surely, you see what a waste it would be for him to stay here. He needs to go back to New York and fight my ex-husband. Take back his rightful place at a Michelin restaurant. I can make that happen.”
What? Jill’s head roared like an espresso maker’s steam valve was jammed in her ear. “Your
ex
-husband?”
“Oh, what a terrible slip of the tongue. Brian asked me not to say anything.”
Her thoughts shifted in slow motion. Suddenly it all made sense. “Let me make sure I understand this. Brian had an affair with
you
at the restaurant you owned with your
husband?
”
“Oui,”
Simone responded in that breathy voice.
She stood up even though her knees wanted to give out. How could he? After all the damage Meredith’s ex had done, she hated cheaters with a passion. Everything she knew of him was being shifted upside down like sand in an hourglass.
“See, there are things you still don’t know about Brian.”
No kidding, and it hurt beyond belief. Jill looked down at her desk, unable to reply. What could she say?
“If you care about him, you will encourage him to leave. That is what I came to tell you.”
She stared at the woman for whom Brian had destroyed his life. “Let me be clear, as you said. You didn’t come here today to ‘persuade’ me to free Brian. You came here to make sure I knew your relationship was an affair.”
Her icy blond hair swished against her shoulders when she shook her head. “As I said, it was a slip of the tongue.”
“I’ll bet. Get the hell out of my office. It’s Brian’s decision. It always was.”
“If you hold him here, he will come to hate you.” Simone walked to the door.
Hadn’t she already thought about that? “Just get out. Now.” Jill gripped the edge of the desk with white knuckles.
“It’s nothing personal, you understand. He has outgrown you and this place.”
How come people always said
it’s nothing personal
while they destroyed your world?
French Barbie finally left the room, and Jill curled back in her chair. The picture of them laughing together on their Valentine’s Day picnic mocked her. They looked so happy, a thread of familiarity and longing visible in the way they embraced and gazed into each other’s eyes. She remembered how unselfishly he’d pleasured her. Her lips trembled, and like ripples in a pond, the tremors spread to the rest of her body.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
Her renewed sense of control over her life melted like butter left out on a sunny counter.
