“Thank you, Chef,” Jackson said and then turned back toward another customer as Van rushed back the way he’d just came, pushing the door open and striding down the hallway.
He found Hope still standing in the center of the room, gazing around the small office. He set the water and coffee down on the desk. “Here, little one. I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’ll be back just as quick as I can. Have a seat.”
“I really am sorry,” she whispered and his heart ached when her lower lip wobbled again. She wrung her hands together in front of her, dropping her eyes to the floor. “I know I shouldn’t say it, but I missed you so much, Van.”
“Why shouldn’t you say it?” he asked, reaching out and taking her hands in his. She was so soft. So pretty.
“Because it’scrazy,” she whispered miserably. “This whole thing, it’s all crazy. How I felt that weekend, how I’ve felt every day since—”
“Hope, honey, we will talk about this, all of it. I promise. Okay?” he asked, ducking to capture her eyes with his. Her blueeyes were sad, and he hated it. “I missed you, too. We both did.” She smiled sadly. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “I have to go check on my kitchen, Hope. Don’t leave, okay? Promise me.”
She nodded and he sighed. He was loathe to leave her, terrified she would be gone when he returned. But he still had a kitchen to run, so this reunion would have to wait.
And he had a bone to pick with one Grant Price.
Chapter Eleven
She was somewhere in the building. It was like a brand new sixth sense he had. He justknewshe was close.
Stalking around the restaurant, he table touched, chatted with customers, small talked… all the while being completely distracted by the fact that Hope, his Hope, was close enough to touch. To smell. To hold. To look into those blue eyes that he’d dreamed about damn near every night since Chicago.
And it just made him so damn angry.
Irrationally, relentlessly furious. Howdareshe show up, inhisfucking restaurant of all places? After sneaking out and leaving them withnothing. No last name. No hint of where she lived, what she did for a living. No way to try and find her again. Had she not felt everything he had that weekend? That he knew Van had, too?
They didn’t talk about Chicago, or Hope. They just didn’t. But he’d known that weekend changed something for both of them. He’d thought Hope did, too…You can’t fake that kind of connection, right?He’d known the very first time she lied to him, sitting in that hotel bar, about meeting her sister. She hadn’t lied or faked the entire weekend after that. He wouldhave sensed it. A rather annoying gift he’d always had at sensing duplicity.
So why had she left? What had been so fucking bad about the weekend that she had snuck out in the middle of the goddamn night without a single word? Why hadn’t she waited until morning, so they could try and convince her to share contact information, convince her to… to what?Stay?
He had no idea where she lived. What kind of job she had. Hell, she could live clear across the globe for all he knew… She could just be here for a vacation, for fucks sake. Petoskey was regaled by the Smithsonian as one of the best and most popular small-towns to visit in America. Especially during peak fall color season. He knew the statistics. It was his damn job to know the statistics. She could be gone in a week, at most.
But she was here with the regular Friday night gals… his mind reminded him. He knew most of them by name, they came in often enough. So if she knew at least one of them, that meant she could be from the area, right?
Angry all over again over the painful hope that had bloomed in his chest at the idea that she could be here indefinitely, he stalked around the restaurant. The kitchen door swung open and he saw Van’s back as he stood at the expo window. She was somewhere in the restaurant… alone.
Probably already running away, he thought darkly. He’d be damned before he sought her out, though. He needed time to cool off. Possibly a lot of time.
Van walked out of the kitchen and beelined for him. Glancing around the rapidly emptying restaurant, he said, “The kitchen is set for the night. We’ve got less than an hour before we’re closed for dinner service. I’m taking her home.”
Grant’s hands closed into fists at his sides. “Home where?”
Van shoved his fingers up through his blonde hair, pushing it off his forehead as he glanced around. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t want her at the condo,” Grant muttered through clenched teeth. In the restaurant was bad enough… but at theirhome…
“Well I do,” Van snapped back, raising his eyes to glare at him. “Dammit, Grant. I’m not letting her slip through my fingers again. Just because you’re a grumpy jackass—”
“She left us. Plain and simple,” Grant whispered, barely containing the rage that simmered beneath the surface. “So now we’re just supposed to welcome her back with open arms—”
“Why can’t we at least talk things out? Get her side of the story, figure out what happened to make her run—” Van muttered low. They were far enough away from customers and other staff, but if they raised their voices enough this conversation wasn’t going to remain private. Grant grumbled under his breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. “She missed us—”
“Shut up,” Grant bit out through teeth clenched so tightly together his jaw ached. The glare he was giving Van would have made any other person quail, but not his best friend. “I don’t want to fucking hear anything she has to say.”
“Why? You stubborn motherfucker,” Van muttered, then shook his head and raised his eyes to stare at the ceiling, and Grant could tell he was counting to ten in his head in an attempt to cool his own temper. “You better figure this shit out, Grant. Because she’s here and I’m not letting her walk away again. You can come around or—”
“Or what?” Grant snarled, taking a step closer. “You’ll let some one-night stand come between years of friendship?”
Van’s jaw ticked and the fury rolling off of him made Grant happy. Finally Van was feeling the same rage he’d been fighting since he’d seen her sitting at that table earlier. Jabbing one finger into his chest, Van bit out, “You know it wasn’t just that; you’re just too much of a fucking coward to admit it to yourself.You fell for her, just like I did, in next to no time at all. And that scares the living hell out of you, after everything... Well, it’s not going to stop me from fighting like hell to keep her. You can come around or get the hell out of my way. You might be too scared to live after getting a second chance, but I’m not stupid enough to let her go again.”
