It all happened so fast. One minute she was advancing on Desmond, pushing him toward the exit, the next she tripped on her shoelace she’d forgotten to tie and slammed into his chest, dropping the pot, which rolled toward the counter without shattering. Before she could stop him, his arms caught her, pressing her close. She struggled to catch her breath, stunned at the familiar feeling of his body and the cinnamon and ginger scent from the tea she remembered he always drank.
“I have thought of you every single day since I left Cleveland. I made a terrible mistake. I know it now. I’d like to make it up to you. Remember how good it used to be between us?”
She opened her mouth for air, and he thrust his lips onto hers.
The door opened and a tall man with broad shoulders and golden hair stood in the entrance. He drew his brows together until they met in the middle, then he crossed his arms like the Greek god Apollo himself. All he needed was an arrow to complete the picture.
Anger burned bright,erupting like a solar flare in Hank’s gut. He crossed his arms so he wouldn’t punch the man in front of him.
He’d come to Grandma Lou’s this morning, hoping Bethany had decided a relationship with him was worth the risk. That, after he’d poured out his deepest secrets to her under the stars, she would agree to the trip to LA. Instead, he found her kissing another man—and not just any man but her former fiancé—the Chef King—who had betrayed her trust and run off with her money.
“Hank, it’s not what it looks like.” Her face flushed red, and she punched at the guy’s chest. “Let me go, Desmond.”
Hank took a step farther into the room. “What does it look like? Like you’re reacquainting yourself with an old flame?”
The Chef King trapped Bethany’s fists by crushing her against his side with one arm. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and extended his other hand like he was greeting an old friend. “You’re Hank Haverill, aren’t you? I believe our shows are affiliated with the same television network. I’m Desmond Mitchell. Perhaps you’ve seen my cooking show.”
Hank didn’t shake the proffered hand. Instead, he watched Bethany’s expressive face shift from frustration to fury.
She stamped on Desmond’s foot until he released her. “Time’s up. Get out of my restaurant.”
“Bethany, be reasonable. I was just trying to help you. I saved you from a nasty bruise.”
She pointed at the door. “No, you assaulted me. And I’drather have the bruise. Go and don’t come back. I never want to see you again. Not even on television.”
Desmond frowned. “Fine. Never say I didn’t try to help. I’ll go.” Then he turned to Hank. “Just so you know, she’s a liar.”
Bethany gasped, outrage in every aspect of her curvy form. Desmond had already turned his back and was walking out the door.
Hank reached out a long arm, snagged Desmond’s shoulder and turned him around in one smooth motion. “Apologize.”
“I already tried that with her, and she wouldn’t have it.”
“With good reason, from what I’ve been told.” He tightened the vise he had on Desmond’s neck and pushed him toward Bethany. “Say you’re sorry and then take yourself outside and don’t look back. Or do you want to be one of the unlucky ones who can say they’ve been clocked by me?”
Desmond hesitated, his fists clenched and face a deep red. “Fine. I’m sorry. Are you happy?”
“Tell her, not me. And sound like you mean it.” Hank squeezed a little harder until Desmond gasped, turning three different shades of purple. He cranked his head toward Bethany.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, make him stop.”
“Let him go, Hank,” Bethany said, glaring at Desmond. “I don’t need his apology. It wouldn’t be sincere, anyway.”
Hank shrugged and released Desmond, who turned and scurried to the door like a small, nervous rat. At the last moment, he must have realized he was far enough away from Hank’s reach to dredge up enough courage to turn and sneer at Bethany.
“I’ll look forward to the day this place closes. Won’t bemuch longer, from what I hear. Heard talk you plagiarized your contest entry.”
The door clanged shut behind him, and Hank glanced toward Bethany. She stared after Desmond, a stunned expression on her face.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Hank led Bethany to the nearest chair, fighting a desire to chase after Desmond and use him as a punching bag. Some guys were just plain assholes. “Are you okay? Sit.”
Bethany didn’t answer but did as he asked. Her eyes shifted from Hank to the front door.
Travis came from the kitchen, a stack of plates in his hands. “Is she all right? What happened?” He set down the plates with a thunk.
“Your sister had an unexpected visit from her ex-fiancé.” Hank crouched next to Bethany. “Place your head between your knees. Travis, get her a glass of water.”
