Myparents were forever annoyed by my sense of self, my need to make my place inthe world. They wanted a sweet, docile daughter that was willing to live closeto them for the joy of a quiet, uninterrupted life.
Nolanhad only pretended to support my ideas and big plans, my drive and overwhelmingneed to do something with my life. Once I’d left Hamilton and it became clearthat he wouldn’t join me, we’d had countless arguments. His abandoned promisewas one of the reasons I knew I’d done the right thing when I broke up withhim. He wanted a compliant wife, a woman to dutifully stand by his side andshut up until asked to speak. He wanted someone content with mediocrity.
Nolanhad never been cruel or unkind about what he expected from me, but the beliefsystem was as ingrained in him as it was that entire town. It was a small town thatexpected small things from its inhabitants. And while that was fine for otherpeople, I could not get on board. Bending to that will wasn’t me.
Iwould never be content with small. Hell, I was desperate to get away frommedium. I was a go big or go home girl all the way.
“Youmean that?” I asked him, my voice barely above a whisper.
Heheld my gaze, his brown eyes darkening. “Yes. Nice bores me. I like you scary.”
Weboth laughed, his dry sense of humor felt out of place considering the heartpalpitations in my chest. But it worked. He lightened the mood and I wasfinally able to suck in a deep breath.
“Thatsaid”—his expression grew serious again—“I can’t let you leave. I need you too much.Whatever they’re offering you, I’ll pay you more. I’ll double it if I have to.”
Myheart quit palpitating. Only because it stopped beating altogether. “You’lldouble my salary?”
Henodded. “If I have to.”
“Nowyou do.”
Adeep chuckle tumbled out of him, zinging straight to my core and curling aroundmy heart, coaxing it to beat again. “Who are they? I need to know who’spoaching my kitchen.”
“Nobody,”I assured him, anxious to keep him off the trail of Sarita. “I’ve been looking,but nobody has offered me anything. It’s wishful thinking at this point.”
Hestared at me for a long minute, taking in my answer, weighing its truth,searching for the secrets I kept hidden away. Finally satisfied, he grunted agruff, “Good.”
Mystomach twisted with nerves and I felt inexplicably guilty. I couldn’t shakethe feeling that I should have told him what I’d been up to and hoped for. Atthe very least he deserved honesty. But Sarita seemed impossible at this point.Ezra was still on vacation. I’d had one lesson with Vera and I hadn’t even workedin the kitchen. There were too many unknowns still.
Betterto keep it quiet until I knew if I could even apply for the position.
Wyattshuffled to the door and grabbed the handle. “If you’re not going to make outwith me, you should probably get back to it then.”
Iturned toward him and couldn’t resist that wicked half smile of his and thewords he’d said to me, the affirmations, the sweet confessions. Did Wyattreally like me? Not just as a sometimes friend or loyal employee, but like girlfriendpotential?
Itdidn’t seem possible.
Afterall the grief we’d given each other through the years, he felt more apt to hateme than want to start a relationship with me. Except if I were honest withmyself, fighting with him had never felt like fighting.
Ourarguments had always shown how we challenged each other. It was like we wereplaying tag. Or chess in our more sophisticated moments. There had always beena heart-pounding competition to it.
Thatwould have been enough for me. I enjoyed our headbutting bouts. I had fun withthem. Fun with… him. Even if it felt like World War Three between us sometimes.But now he’d gone and said everything else. He’d admitted to liking me for me.Now I couldn’t unhear his life-giving affirmations no matter how badly I wantedto.
Ipaused by the door, knowing this would only complicate things between us evenmore. But my body was moving on instinct and my fingers were already pressedagainst his crisp black chef coat.
Hisbody stilled beneath my touch. Enjoying his reaction more than I should have, Istepped forward and pressed my body against his. The kick of his heart beneathmy palm was the final incentive I needed.
Myleft hand slid behind his neck, putting pressure on the warm column, bringinghis face closer to mine. “Thank you for saying what you did, chef.” His eyeslit with anticipation. “They make me hate you a little bit less.”
Ipressed my lips to his in a sweet, lingering kiss that only held the promise ofsomething more. He wanted more, but I wanted to give him something moremeaningful.
Andso, we kissed in that slow, tantalizing way that made my toes curl from thefrustration layered between the sweet tease of it. I nibbled his lower lip andran my tongue across it, promising wickedness I wasn’t sure I could deliver. Hemade a sound in the back of his throat, half groan, half satisfied moan and Iwanted to strip us both down and see exactly how far he was willing to takethis.
ButI didn’t.
Ipulled back, taking a step away from him to catch my breath. Then I fled fromhis office and into the safety of the kitchen. I knew my cheeks were blazingred and I was visibly out of breath, but I needed the kitchen, the buzz of it.I needed the clanging of pots and the bustle of my coworkers. I wanted thesweet smells and the sizzle of the grill. I needed my equilibrium to return andfor steadiness to settle in my soul.
BecauseWyatt had taken them from me. He’d flipped me upside down and turned me insideout and then left me to piece myself back together.
