Stirring Up Trouble (28 page)

“Is everything okay?” Gavin asked, concern flooding through him, but Bree was quick to head it off.

“I’m not hurt or anything. I just . . .” She turned and looked at Jeannie, who put a comforting arm around Bree’s shoulders. “We were all skiing, but the trails are really crummy from the rain, so we came inside and Mrs. Carter said maybe we could catch you in between lunch and dinner. You know, to just say hi.”

“Oh. Sure.” Gavin’s brows slid together, his worry deepening as he caught Jeannie’s troubled expression. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

Bree nodded, but Jeannie shook her head. “Bree seemed a little down, so I thought maybe coming over for a minute would cheer her up.” She gave Bree’s shoulder a squeeze before letting her go. “I’ll give you two a minute. Just come find me when you’re ready to head back to the lodge.”

Gavin’s heart took a nosedive toward his shoes as he watched Jeannie slip through the entrance to the dining room. If he was begging to be numb, it made sense that Bree would be feeling the same way. He looked at her red-rimmed eyes and sullen face, and his words came tumbling out without a second thought.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you stick around here tonight? Dinner rush is earlier on Sundays, and I can probably sneak out as soon as it starts to slow down. Plus, I bet if you play your cards right with Bellamy, she’ll let you taste some of the dessert specials for tonight. Someone in the lunch crowd actually threatened to lick her plate clean after eating a slice of her mocha cheesecake. So what do you say?”

Okay, so it was a pretty transparent attempt to comfort her, which he knew from experience would probably make her feel like a baby, but he was grasping at straws. Keeping her close and feeding her were the only two ways he really knew how to make her feel better, and selfishly, he knew it would make him feel better to have her close by. Gavin steeled himself for her response, fully expecting her to push him away.

But she shocked the hell out of him by giving a tiny nod. “Yeah. I’d really like that.” His surprise threatened to overwhelm him completely when she took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head into his shoulder.

There had been a time, God, barely months ago, when putting his emotions on display like this would’ve made him shrink back and hide. But if anything, Gavin knew now more than ever that if he wanted to be a good parent, he had to take a risk every now and then.

So he said, “Okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You stay right here with me, for as long as you want.”

And he held her, just like that while she cried.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sloane got exactly twelve miles down the highway before her cell phone rang, simultaneously scaring the shit out of her and sending her hope through the roof of the Fiat. Both emotions twisted together into a tight pretzel of dread as the caller ID popped up on the hands-free touch screen in front of her.

In the flurry of wild emotions that had encompassed her morning, Sloane had completely blanked on the e-mail she’d sent Belinda about her book. Oh, God, her
book
. The one that had flowed right out of her, despite where she was. The one that was the exact opposite of what Belinda had asked for, and could ruin her future at Morton House in a single pitch.

The one she didn’t have to write, because there was nothing keeping her from getting on that plane and writing the Greece book, just like she’d said she would.

Her career was on the line, and it was the only thing she had left.

Just as Sloane was about to open her mouth to tell Belinda to forget the e-mail, her vision caught on the Fiat’s passenger seat. Brightly colored Post-it notes covered the outline she’d hastily shoved in her bag, but the purple square in the center of the page froze the breath to her lungs.

Oh, God. Her career
wasn’t
the only thing she had left. Sloane had her heart, and even if it was broken, it was past time to start trusting that heart to be good enough. Even if it meant risking everything.

“Hi, Belinda,” Sloane finally said as she guided the Fiat toward the nearest U-turn. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

 

 

Gavin made his way back to the pass in La Dolce Vita’s kitchen, narrowly dodging a harried-looking server with a full tray on her shoulder.

“Please tell me that’s table seven,” he said, hoping like hell to get an affirmative. Although they were keeping a smooth schedule, the dining room was absolutely packed for a Sunday, and the good timing they were currently enjoying could turn on a dime without warning. The server hollered a
table seven, out
over her free shoulder, slipping confidently through the swinging doors toward the dining room. Gavin grabbed a pair of plates from the expanse of stainless steel counter in front of him, taking the briefest of seconds to admire the pan-seared sea scallops and sunflower-yellow polenta in his hands.

“Table thirteen, scallops and polenta out the door,” he clipped, raising his voice over the din of metallic cacophony from the pots and pans being maneuvered through the kitchen.

“Wait!” Carly’s shrill command stopped him in his tracks, and he swung toward her, brows upturned.

“Mushroom sauce on the scallops,” she said, and they both frowned at his miss.

“Fuck. Sorry, chef.” He slid the dish back up to the pass so she could finish plating it. This special had been on the tasting menu barely three hours ago, and Carly always went out of her way to make sure the staff knew what everything was supposed to look like when it went out the door. How had he missed something so obvious?

“Is Bree doing okay in the break room?” Carly worked her magic with efficient hands, finishing the scallops with just a few simple touches.

“She’s actually in the dining room with Jeannie and the twins. They came by for dessert. Said Bellamy’s chocolate torte was incredible.” Actually, Jeannie had said it, and the twins had agreed. Bree just pushed hers around on her plate.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on here, or am I going to have to pry?” Carly held out the finished plate of sea scallops, but didn’t let go when Gavin reached for it.

“Nothing’s going on.” He might be coming to terms in the emotions-sharing department with Bree, but letting loose with his boss while his dinner service crashed down around him was not on his to-do list.

Plus, all the talking in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Sloane was gone, and he should’ve known better than to think she’d stay.

One of Carly’s shadowy brows winged skyward. “Nothing,” she repeated, looking as doubtful as she sounded as she let go of the plate.

But Gavin didn’t budge. “No. Table thirteen, out the door.”

The next few hours passed in a mercifully mind-numbing blur, and he went through the motions with fast feet and a heart full of broken glass. In time, he knew he’d get used to Sloane not being around—in truth, she’d spent less than two months with them, so it shouldn’t be such a daunting task. Eventually, he’d be able to walk past the guest bedroom without thinking of that first night they’d made love, urgent and beautiful against luxurious bedsheets. He’d be able to look at the fireplace and not remember how the soft light reflected in her eyes to make them sparkle when she typed furiously on her laptop. And he’d be able to look at Bree and not see the bottomless sadness on her face as she looked around the cottage and saw Sloane in every corner, too.

Christ, it had to get better than this, because it sure as hell couldn’t get worse.

“Hey, chef. We’re starting to wind down in the dining room. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to leave some of the paperwork for the morning and head home with Bree.” While Gavin was less than thrilled at the prospect of crossing the threshold to his empty cottage with his head full of memories, it was time to start facing the facts.

Sloane was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. No matter how in love with her he was.

Carly wiped her hands on her apron and fastened him with a glance. “Sure.” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder, eyes going momentarily wide before she blanked her expression again, and he turned in confusion.

“Oh, hey, Stephanie.” Gavin looked at the bartender with a tired smile. “I’m heading out for the night, so just update your tallies before you leave. I’ll grab them in the morning.”

The bartender split a look between Carly and Gavin before holding up a bar slip between her first two fingers. “You’re not out the door yet. Someone ordered a bottle of red that’s gonna cost big bucks. Inventory says we have one in the wine cellar, so here you go.”

It was standard operating procedure any time an order came in for a bottle of wine costing over a hundred dollars for the manager to handle the service from cellar to glass. Given his penchant for finer vintages, this was never a rule Gavin balked at; on the contrary, it always gave him a bit of a thrill to have his hands on a bottle of something that could be so well appreciated.

For the first time ever, he couldn’t care less.

“Okay. What am I getting?”

Stephanie’s eyes darted to the pass, where Carly and Adrian were suddenly busy with a round of last-minute dishes heading out the door. “Um, looks like a really pricey Bordeaux. Glad you’re opening it. Personally, those expensive bottles give me the shakes. Enjoy.”

A really pricey Bordeaux. Wait a second . . . there were only a couple really high-end reds on their wine list. He turned the bar slip Stephanie had put in his hand. No way it could be—

It was the same bottle of wine he and Sloane had impulsively enjoyed on the night of Carly’s wedding. The same bottle of wine that, given the chance, he would pick above all others.

For a second, Gavin’s world tilted on an angle he had no hope of reconciling. Then his head snapped up to meet Carly’s clear-as-a-bell gaze.

“Someone order a doozy?” she asked, but he clamped down on the feeling surging in his chest.

“Just a nice bottle of red. I’ll grab it from the wine cellar. See you tomorrow.”

Gavin made his way to the back of the kitchen, taking the steps to the wine cellar with his mind spinning. They hadn’t sold a bottle of Bellevue Mondotte in almost a year, and he’d even wondered if it made sense to replace the one he had bought that night. Except as the chief consultant for wine orders, he’d known that they should have one on-hand. It was one of the best Bordeaux in that price range. No better experience for your money.

And apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Gavin stopped at the dimly lit section where they housed the reds and inhaled the dry, crisp scent of wood and cork. His fingers found the grooved space where the bottle reclined, delicately notched in the resting place where he’d put it upon delivery, and he slid it from the shelf. He stuffed back the memory of the last time he’d been down here to take a bottle from this spot, and the delicious possibility he’d felt upon doing something so capricious.

Hell of a lot of irony in how right something could feel, only to leave you picking up the pieces once it shattered in your hands.

“Enough,” he told himself, closing his fingers over the neck of the bottle and covering the space back up to La Dolce Vita in even strides. He placed the bottle on the bar while he grabbed a wine key and two glasses, running his eyes over the crystal with quick care to make sure it was ready to go.

“Hey. Is that a good one?” Bree asked, coming up across from him to prop her elbows on the polished mahogany bar.

Gavin laughed, even though there was little humor in it. “You could say that. You want to watch me open it? It’s not every day you see the cork come out of a two-hundred-fifty-dollar bottle of red.”

“Holy moly,” Bree gasped, eyeing him as if he were nuts. “Why do grown-ups do such crazy stuff?”

Now his laugh was genuine, albeit soft. “Good question. I’m headed to the dining room with this, but after I’m done, we can go home if you want.”

“Okay. Can I really watch you open it?”

Gavin did a mental tally of open tables. “Sure. Table fourteen should be close enough, and it’s empty. You know the one by the fireplace in front?”

Bree nodded. “Yeah. Just let me get my backpack from the office.”

“Go up to the pass and ask Carly to get you through the kitchen. It’s slow enough back there now that she can help you. I’ll go talk up this customer.” He jerked his head toward the dining room. “See you in a minute.”

With a slow exhale, Gavin looped his fingers around the delicate stems of the wineglasses and put them on a clean bar tray. The bottle was smooth and comforting in his hand as he headed through the glowing half light of La Dolce Vita’s dining room, taking in the handful of still-occupied tables and quietly chatting diners. Table sixteen was a cozy little two-top, close to the front entrance. Probably a couple celebrating a birthday or anniversary, he thought as he gave the bottle a glance.

Maybe he’d get a little impulsive and take Bree somewhere really nice for her birthday next month, even round up the twins and take them all into Philly for the weekend. A grin poked at the edges of his mouth despite his weary mood. He could just hear the delighted preteen squeals that would accompany that suggestion, followed by a deep, velvety belly laugh that he’d come up with such a good idea on his own . . .

Gavin’s thoughts crashed to a halt, his grip tightening over the bottle in his hand. Damn it, he needed to figure out a better way to purge Sloane from his memory, otherwise he was never going to get over this. She’d made her decision, made it weeks ago and stuck to it despite everything between them. No matter how much he hated it, he needed to get rid of everything Sloane-related in his brain, once and for all.

Starting right now.

Sloane’s cell phone buzzed softly, but the vibration in her palm was nothing compared to the jackhammer of her pulse as she read the incoming text message.

She released a shaky breath. She had no
idea
what she was doing, but it didn’t matter.

She was tired of running away when things got tough. It was time to run back and trust that what she had to say was good enough.

As soon as she saw Gavin, with his crisp suit and serious-as-a-tax-audit face, her heart launched against her ribs, but she sat firmly in her seat. She might not know what she was doing, but she sure as hell knew what she wanted, and it was high time she made a decision she could stand by without changing her mind.

He looked up as he approached the table that Carly had carefully selected, stopping short a few feet away.

“You ordered this?”

Sloane nodded, eternally grateful she was sitting down. “I owe you a bottle. Since we never finished the first one.”

Gavin’s eyes flashed, dark and unreadable. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh, yes, I do. But the wine isn’t the half of it.”

“For starters, I owe you an apology. I kept things from you, and although at the time I thought I had good reasons for it, there’s no excuse for what I did. I know that it hurt you and Bree, and I’m sorry.”