CRAVE: A Small Town Menage Romance (Reckless Falls Book 4) Read online

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jackson

  Cooking food is how I express myself. I'm a fucking chef, after all. I put the things I cannot say in words into the food I prepare. I always have.

  But cooking for Bee and Finn that morning was something different. It was like I was trying to say something that I couldn't express through words or food. My little speech about perfection only unthreaded one strand of the tangled, jumbled knot of my thoughts.

  By preparing something as simple as an omelette, one of the first things I learned in cooking school, it was like I was trying to say something simple too.

  I just didn't know how to say it yet.

  Words were never my strong suit.

  "Come sit down," I called. I had set the table with what I found in Bee's cupboards, plated my omelettes just like I would if I were running my own bistro.

  Old habits die hard, after all.

  "Where did you find this stuff?" Bee asked, futzing with the vase I'd unearthed from the back of her drawer. "I didn't even know I had this."

  "Sometimes it takes a different point of view," I said. "Show you how to see things differently."

  And she smiled at me, like I had said something insanely profound instead of relatively stupid.

  The two of them sat down to eat what I prepared. I kept my eyes focused firmly on Bee as she ate, because she ate with the same relish and gusto as she seemed to put into everything. I leaned forward a little, hoping like hell she'd get it. Whatever it was. Whatever it was I was trying to say with my cooking. I willed Bee to get it, because maybe then she could explain to me what I was feeling right now. This strange buzzing feeling at the base of my skull, as if everything had significance.

  She grinned at me, unsure as to why I was staring at her so hard, but perfectly okay with me doing so. Pure enjoyment radiated from her face with each bite. She scraped her plate clean, licking the dredges off her fork in a way that made my pants tighten uncomfortably.

  She'd devoured everything I'd given her. And more than that, she seemed to like everything I gave her, no matter what that was.

  Nothing at all like the woman who'd said she loved me, and wanted to marry me, but never enjoyed anything that we did together. Bee was so different. And her little moans of pleasure, and the smack of her lips as she chewed had me hard for her all over again.

  Maybe she did get it. Maybe she did understand what I was trying to tell her with my food.

  And maybe I was starting to understand it as well.

  When she finished her breakfast, she leaned back with a sigh. "We need to get back to work," she said with a tremor of resignation in her voice.

  "You're right," Finn sighed.

  "Do we have to?" I asked.

  They both chuckled and looked away. I knew what we all were thinking. That if we left this house, somehow this would all blow up and become wrong instead of how it felt right now.

  So, so right.

  We drove back to the restaurant, dropping Bee off in front of her bakery before pulling around back to park.

  "Is that Kyle's car there?" I asked, gesturing towards the black pickup truck.

  Finn leaned forward. "That's weird," he remarked.

  As if he'd been summoned, Kyle appeared on the loading dock, rushing as if he was out of breath. "Morning boss!" he called out to Finn. "I just checked in another shipment from Jasper Hill winery."

  Finn looked startled. "Okay?" he said, sounding confused.

  Kyle rushed off again and Finn shook his head. "Did he look a little crazed to you?" he asked.

  I laughed. "I don't know man. I have no idea what's normal anymore."

  Finn looked over at me sharply. "You good?" he asked.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Did it feel weird? Sure. But did it feel wrong?

  No.

  "I'm fine. Just..."

  "I don't think of you that way," Finn interjected, as if he needed to clarify the point.

  I shot him an evil grin. "Why not? I'm fucking catch."

  Finn rolled his eyes. "God, you are such an asshole."

  I grinned. "Well this asshole doesn't give a shit about how it happened," I said slowly. "I'm just happy it happened. It was worth it."

  Finn nodded emphatically. "Totally."

  I glanced at him. "Are we doing it again?"

  Finn nodded again. His eyes were already off in the distance, and I could tell that his mind was racing ahead to our next time with Bee. "Yes," he said. "As soon as fucking possible."

  I nodded back at him. "Good. Then we're good."

  Finn glanced over at Bee's store, then seemed to mentally shake himself. "Okay," he barked. "Now let's get to work. We have a restaurant to open in less than two weeks."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Bee

  As I pulled up to the loading dock of the diner, I saw that Charlie was already standing there waiting for me. "Good morning," she called out, waving.

  I grinned. "You doing good today?" I asked her.

  She cocked her head. "I should be asking you the same thing," she said with a wicked grin, reaching out to pluck the corner of my shirt.

  I looked down. There on my collarbone, blazing out in a bright purple for all the world to see, was a giant hickey. When and how it got there... or which guy had put it there... I had no idea.

  I blushed right down to my toes.

  "Somebody had fun last night, huh?" Charlie giggled. "Who's the lucky guy?"

  Guys, I didn't say.

  Instead I only blushed harder. "How about you?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "How was your night?"

  Charlie rolled her eyes. "I'm a single mom with a toddler. Obviously I didn't have as good a night as you did," she said with a laugh. "I'm pretty stoked he didn't puke on me last night, and he only woke up twice, so I'm feeling pretty chipper," she declared. "And even better? Spiro is actually in a good mood this morning!"

  "Well that's surprising!" I laughed.

  "I know, right?" She elbowed me. "Maybe he got laid? What do you think?"

  I wrinkled my nose and she laughed harder. "Maybe I should thank Mrs. Spiro for taking one for the team?" she giggled. Then she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the restaurant. Distant enraged shouts were suddenly wafting in our direction. "But hey, uh," Charlie said with a tight smile. "Let's unload before his good mood wears off and he starts throwing things again."

  "Jesus, I can't believe you have to put up with this," I exhaled, shaking my head.

  "It's a living, and I need the money," she sighed. "You do what you gotta do for your kid, you know?"

  I had no idea. I was only just starting to figure out how to make my own way in the world. I couldn't imagine having to figure this all out with a kid in tow as well.

  I turned and jammed my dolly underneath my prepacked boxes. My movements were not nearly as clumsy as they were the first time I did this.

  It seemed I really could take care of my deliveries all by myself.

  But it sure was nice to have Charlie's help.

  We worked side-by-side for a moment, in perfect teamwork, until suddenly I heard a buzzing sound.

  "Is that your phone?" I asked.

  Her eyes went wild with panic. "Shit," she called, yanking it from deep in her apron. "It's my mother. Shit. I have to take this." She waved her hands at me. "Cover for me!" she hissed. "If Spiro sees I'm taking a personal call at work, he'll have my ass."

  I deftly stepped front of her, blocking the view of the door as she darted around the side my truck. "Mom," I heard her say. "I told you not to call me when I'm at work. Use the restaurant number..."

  Then she fell silent. I looked over at her, and saw her face go white. "Where are you?" she asked, sounding desperate. Then she nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I'll try though, but remember you drove me in this morning?" She fell silent again. "I will though," she said. "Just hang on, okay?"

  She hung up her phone, and sagged against my truck. "Shit," she breathed.

  "
Are you okay?" I ventured.

  She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing wildly around her face. She blinked rapidly then wiped her eyes savagely with the heel of her hand. "Fuck," she hissed, banging her head on the side of my truck.

  "Hey, I can help," I told her. I had no idea how, but suddenly I knew I needed to.

  She shook her head. "No, I don't think you can," she said bitterly. "My mom has Malcolm at the town park, you know that playground that just opened? And he fell."

  "Oh God, is it bad?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Charlie said, shaking her head. "My mom is not good in emergencies. She was pretty much hysterical." She pressed her the heel of her hand to her forehead. "I need to get over there."

  "Why doesn't she just call an ambulance?" I asked.

  She gave me a withering stare. "I don't have the money for an ambulance ride," she said shortly. "I'd drive him myself, but my car's on the fritz. My mom drove me in this morning."

  Suddenly it all clicked into place. "I'll take you," I said eagerly. "The town park? That's right near the waterfront where my store is."

  Charlie darted a look over her shoulder. "I'm not... I can't leave..."

  Then her eyes suddenly flashed angrily. "I have to leave don't I?" she asked the air. "My little boy..." And then with a sudden straightening of her shoulders, she yanked open the passenger side door and hopped into my truck.

  I shelved the dolly back into the back of the truck, grabbed my keys, and got ready to help my friend.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Finn

  "Hey Kyle?" I called across the restaurant.

  My baby-faced general manager appeared out of nowhere with a hugely eager grin on his face. "Yeah boss?" he asked.

  I rolled my eyes, sick and tired of his over the top deference. "The wine list needs to go to the printers. I need a list of what we have available for opening night."

  Kyle's eyes widened a fraction. "Can I get that to you later, boss? Kind of in the middle of something right now."

  I shrugged. "As long as it's today, no problem.

  I turned in my chair and leaned over my computer, tapping my pen against my desk.

  No. It really did need to be done right now. The printer had a deadline and the last thing we needed was to open without a readable wine list.

  I scraped my chair back across the floor. I could do it. Better to have it done and crossed off my list than have to constantly have to double check if Kyle was done yet.

  I made my way through the gleaming kitchen. The lowboy refrigerators at each cook's station were being installed today. Jackson hated the time that was wasted by having to walk back to a centrally located walk-in fridge, so he'd designed workstations where each line cook could gather what they needed for the day's service and store it in their own personal refrigerators right at arm's length. It was just one more thing he'd tweaked that made me realize he actually was the genius he claimed to be. It was the kind of shit that made me feel lucky to have him as a business partner.

  And hell, a friend too.

  Our wine cellar was a state of the art, glass-enclosed room, completely sealed off from the rest of the cellar to maintain the perfect temperature. I hit the code on the keypad and pushed my way inside.

  The air was cold and dry and heavy with the scent of the wines. The best smell in the world.

  I grabbed my notepad and began ticking off the whites in order from driest to sweetest. The Chardonnays were all in a vertical row along the far wall. Next came the dry Rieslings, a specialty of the area. I ticked down the bottles one at a time... until I got to the place where the Jasper Hill Winery shipment belonged.

  "Huh," I said aloud. The bottle I'd been looking for at dinner was still missing. "Guess we haven't found it yet?" I checked my notes. But we'd definitely been charged for it. "Maybe it's misshelved." I slid my finger down the row of Gewürztraminers and paused to flick through my notes again. "There should be twelve," I muttered, flicking back and forth between my inventory notes and the invoices I'd paid.

  As I ran my finger down the rows, I saw the same thing for each type of wine. Rieslings, Traminettes, Cabernets and Merlots, even the small selection of ports. All of them were missing one or two bottles.

  Not enough that I would have ever noticed unless I'd come down and counted them myself.

  Hot blood thundered in my ears and I rushed back upstairs two at a time. "Hey man what's the...?" Jackson's voice faded as I ran into my office and slammed the door.

  "Thank you for calling Jasper Hill Winery!" A perky female voice chirped.

  "Yes, hi, I need to talk to," I flicked through the order slips. "Mike?"

  "Who may I say is calling?"

  "This is Finn Walker," I snarled. "The man who is paying him a shitton of money for deliveries he keeps shorting?"

  "Um, right away sir," the receptionist quavered.

  I tapped my fingers on my desk, aching to wrap them around someone's neck. Fucking cheat thinking he could screw the out of towner. I'd show him what happened when you messed with a guy like me. He'd be fucking lucky to ever get a bottle contract...

  "This is Mike," a gruff voice answered.

  I swallowed down my murderous thoughts. "Mike. Finn Walker here. Mind explaining why you're fucking me over?"

  Mike paused for a long moment. "I'm doing what now?" he finally said.

  "Shorting me. On pretty much every delivery. I was just running through my inventory and my stock does not match when you charged me for."

  "Oh, it's all there Mr. Walker," Mike broke in. "I'm not sure I know what you're referring too."

  "Listen," I snarled, trying and failing to keep my temper in check. "I'm telling you, my general manager checked this inventory in himself." I ran my fingers across my forehead, trying to massage away the tension headache that was starting to bloom. "And about twenty percent of the bottles I ordered are missing from the shipments."

  The voice on the other end went silent, and I heard the rifling of papers. "I'm sorry," Mike said. "But I don't see how that's possible."

  "It's entirely fucking possible," I exploded. Then I pressed my lips together and counted backwards from ten. "This is ridiculous," I said, sounding, if not feeling calmer. "Not one of the shipments we've received from you have been complete. I'm opening a restaurant in less than two weeks, and I don't have the full wine cellar that we need."

  "Everything you ordered has been accounted for," the vineyard owner repeated, testily.

  "Look," I finally said through gritted teeth. "I'll make this easy. I'm not accepting today's shipment until you fix this."

  "Your general manager signed for it," the vineyard owner said, sounding pretty pissed off himself. "I've got his signature, right here on the slip."

  "No, I know that it was signed for," I seethed. "That's not my point. My point is that I'm opening in two weeks, and my wine list has holes in it like Swiss cheese because of these shipping screw ups. Fix it."

  Then I slammed down my phone.

  I looked up to see Jackson standing there in the doorway, clearly eavesdropping.

  I shook my head. "I double and triple checked," I told him.

  "I know you did. I saw you losing your goddamned mind," Jackson said, sounding slightly amused.

  I glared at him. "This is so fucked."

  "You'll figure something out," Jackson said encouragingly.

  I threw my hands up. "I've got nothing. We're hemorrhaging money like a leaky faucet, and still we are missing twenty percent of the orders that should be there. I don't know what the hell to think other than this guy screwing with me."

  Jackson stood there for a moment, tapping his fingers against my newly installed doorframe. "I have an idea," he said. "Grab your keys."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Jackson

  As we pulled out of the back lot, and climbed the hill up from the waterfront, I glanced over to my side mirror and inhaled sharply to see the shimmering lake falling away behind us.

 
; "Geez," I said. "I forget how pretty it is here sometimes."

  "Right?" Finn sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Feels weird to even be out and about in the daylight hours. Look how different everything looks."

  We rolled slowly through Main Street, stopping at each stoplight in turn. There were pedestrians, tourists mostly, ambling along the wide sidewalks, taking their time as they poked through the shops and cafes. I took in the tidy brick storefronts of the Victorian buildings that lined the wide street, standing tall and proud in ordered rows. Shady trees stretched out their limbs from the center median, and the sun flickered in and out of their branches, casting shadows across the street like it was playing peekaboo.

  After the last light, the shops sort of fell away, dribbling out in a series of low stores and less tidy looking houses. But just as the Main Street shops fell away, the countryside opened out into rolling farmland. At the junction a half-mile out of town, Finn took the right fork, turning away from the line of cars heading up to the falls in a slow motion parade.

  The road began to climb up the side of the western ridge, doubling back on itself so that we rose above the valley we'd just left. I looked down to see a bird's eye view of Main Street now looking like some tiny little miniature village nestled snugly along the shores of the lake.

  Ahead of us, facing north, that same lake stretched out to the horizon, long and narrow, like some kind of silvery fish swimming between the two mountains.

  "I mean," I elaborated, catching my breath a little. "It's really really fucking pretty here."

  "You haven't even been to the winery yet, have you?" Finn asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Wait 'til you see it."

  He made another turn, switching back again so that we were headed south now, driving along a ridge that was almost alarming in its steepness. Reckless Falls was nestled so snugly in the valley that I hadn't even realized how wild the country was that surrounded it. High pines topped the mountain above me, stabbing the sky like the skyscrapers of Manhattan that I'd left behind. The trees all around us were an ocean of green, undulating out into the horizon in rolling waves. "Damn," I said.