by Kelsey Green
Remembering the day as Trent told it, I looked at Ivory boastfully awaiting the end of his story. “Chef won the race, so yours truly made the food that weekend. Hence why I’m on this side of the counter watching y’all work from here. Because if it ain’t pizza, then I shouldn’t be cooking it.”
“Oh,” Ivory responded bashfully.
“Oh, what?” I pushed. “Oh, Jackson, I’m sorry I ever doubted you?”
I placed a finger over her soft lips as she opened her mouth to speak, continuing my dissertation, “Oh, cooking gods, I’m sorry for denying your skilled child? Oh— Ouch!” I shrieked as she bit my finger.
“Oh, Mary and Danny, I’m so sorry your son isn’t humbler. Lacking all that home training you tried to instill in him,” she said, earning a hearty laugh from both my parents.
Traitors. “Says the person who bites people,” I retorted. “No home training.”
“I’m sorry, what was that last part?” Ivory asked. “Couldn’t hear you through the muffling or finger in my face.”
“Seems I have perfect timing as always,” another voice said, entering the kitchen.
“Hi, Ruby,” my mother greeted.
Dammit. The morning had been unexpected enough without Ruby showing up. My attention jolted back to Ivory as I worked to see whether or not she recognized Ruby from last night. I’d hoped her eagle eye view made the exact woman hard to discern, but I knew, even in our short time together, the soft features of Ivory’s face. One look at her, dashing all hope that she hadn’t figured out the connection.
Trent broke into an exaggerated coughing fit as my mother introduced the women to one another. Ruby and I had known each other since we were kids, dating on and off most of our lives. She was the woman whom the whole town always thought I would end up with. Something just never fit though. Sweet Hill was her home and she never felt inclined to leave. I, on the other hand, loved experiencing new things. A difference between us that grew larger and more complex as the years passed.
Ivory hadn’t looked at me since Ruby arrived making an already uncomfortable situation even more unbearable. Grabbing Trent, I headed for the barn as the women continued to talk quite easily, causing me more concern by the second. Situation was strange enough without them bonding or Trent’s extra shit.
“Your friend seems nice,” Ruby said, entering the barn just minutes later.
“Ivory?” I questioned. “No one’s ever called her nice from first impressions. She’s an infuriating, opinionated, somewhat stuck-up, strong-willed, prima donna princess.” I let out a much-needed breath. “Not quite nice.”
“Wow,” Ruby replied.
“Yeah, bro,” Trent added.
“What?”
“You like her,” Ruby stated with a sadness twinkling from her eyes.
Every part of me screamed hell no at once. Every part of me that is except my mouth that remained quiet under Ruby’s gentle gaze.
“That’s why you didn’t kiss me back last night and scurried off right after. Because you didn’t come home for me, you just brought another girl home who you actually like.”
I glanced from Ruby to Trent who was annoyingly nodding his head in agreement. Any other motherfucker would have excused themselves from such a private moment between two people, but not Trent’s ass. I hadn’t bought Ivory home intentionally. Nor had I come back for Ruby. But glancing back at her left my mind void of any refusal or explanation, leaving, “I’m sorry,” as the only words left to say.
Chapter 6
CHEF
It was the next morning, and Ivory had successfully dodged me all yesterday. Once we found out that the storm had passed up the mountains in upstate New York, but the roads were still too slick to travel, we decided to stay in Sweet Hill for another night. I tried talking to Ivory, but it seemed with the help of my parents, Trent, and even Grant, she was always occupied.
“Mom, I have to go,” she whispered into the phone as I approached her from behind. “I’m sorry I ruined the date with Charles, but he was a snob. Besides, I heard the gala was a flop anyways. Someone snuck a camera in and streamed the whole boring ordeal.”
The grunts she was making implied her mother wasn’t buying her explanation. I could hear her yelling through the phone. It was strange to hear a mother talk so harshly to her child, especially over something as stupid as a ruined date and party.
“Yes, I know your friends saw the video of me digging through feces. But it wasn’t my idea of a good time either, and I already explained what happened. How do you think I feel?”
I heard the woman scream, “I don’t care how you felt, only how it looked,” when Ivory pulled the phone from her ear due to her mother’s excessive volume. My fists tightened listening to Ivory being chastised like that. No adult should talk to another adult in that manner, especially not a parent.
“You two got everything?” my mom asked, approaching with a container of cookies.
Seeing Ivory’s embarrassed expression as she turned, realizing I’d overheard everything, hit me square in the gut. I wanted to comfort her. But instead she walked past me, hanging up the phone and hugging my mother as she said good-bye. I could tell by the tightness of their hug that my mom could feel she needed it.
“Let’s get this party going!” Trent shouted, approaching from the back. “T-minus four hours until my gorgeous girlfriend kills me.”
While Trent exchanged pleasantries with my mom, loading the last of the deliveries into the truck, I grabbed Ivory’s hand, leading her toward the barn. I was surprised she didn’t protest or even hesitate a moment.
“You know she’s wrong?” I asked as she leaned back against the barn door.
“My mother?” she questioned. “She’s usually right, and probably is about this as well. It doesn’t matter though.”
“It does matter. Your feelings matter.”
She raised her head to meet my gaze. Her copper complexion against her grey eyes instantly became my new favorite colors.
“What’s with you and Ruby?” she asked, catching me off guard.
“Nothing. We just have a lot of history, but we’re over. We’ve been done for some time now.”
“Didn’t look done on New Year’s Eve.”
My hand was already racing to her chin when she dropped her head. Guiding her eyes back to mine, I stepped closer, closing the gap between us.
“It’s truly over. New Year’s Eve was just a relapse on her part, but I’ve made it clear.”
I planned to say more. I wanted to talk further about her mother and how wrong she was for speaking to her that way. However instead, I found my lips soaring to hers, ready to take in her sweetened honey taste. Her hand raised to my chest before softening, wrapping up my arm and coming to rest behind the nape of my neck. I could feel her smile beneath our joint lips as her tongue tussled with mine, causing my expression to mirror hers. It was bliss. Kissing Ivory was exhilarating, triggering other parts of my body to become jealous that my mouth was having all the fun.
“We better go,” she whispered. “Before Trent finds us.”
“You’re probably right, princess,” I confirmed, placing a final peck on her lips. “Shouldn’t we talk first though?”
“It’s a little late for that,” Trent said, peeking his head through the door. “You two love birds ready?”
This motherfucker. We weren’t ready. I’d barely spent any time with Ivory, and other than the two kisses we shared, all our lips ever did was bicker. I couldn’t tell if she liked me or hated me. After all, kissing me could simply be a reaction to overall annoyance and being sexually frustrated in general. Perhaps only time would tell, but a damn conversation would have been a nice start.
The car ride was a nice diversion. Getting out of the truck at the Sugar Valley Ski Resort marked the last delivery from Keating Maple Farms I’d need to make, before the three of us could head straight to the camp.
“Hey, man, your guys are grabbing the delivery,” I told the chef as
his staff brought in the maple syrup and pastries from my truck.
“Thanks, man,” he said, clasping my hand. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“I’ve only been in town a couple days and stayed in Sweet Hill most the time,” I answered. “Looks like the resort’s business is going good though.”
“Yeah, the winter has always been packed, but the tourists have been pouring in year-round since we expanded on our spring and fall activities. Offering the half-day maple tours was a great idea you gave.”
“Anytime, man. It was good for the farm, too,” I replied. “Well, I’m heading back up to the camp, but hit me up if you need anything else.”
“Have you given any more thought to coming to work for me?” he asked. “Those recipes you let me use are still the top sellers here. But we could use some new flare and a guy with your skillset in the kitchen.”
“You know being trapped in a kitchen all day isn’t for me. The world’s out there. I prefer to be a part of it, not cooped up.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He waved his hand in the air. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
“Naw, I appreciate the offer,” I said, clasping his hand one last time before heading back to the truck. He was a great chef, and working with him was always fun, but being a fulltime chef in a high pressure kitchen was simply not for me.
“Where’s Ivory?” I asked as I climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Bathroom,” Trent replied. “You know women be having to pee every ten minutes on a road trip.
“I’m back,” she yelped, opening the passenger door as if on cue. “And it’s been forty minutes thank you very much.”
I laughed as Trent shrugged off her correction.
The remainder of the drive to upstate New York was pretty painless. Nothing like the drive to Vermont a few days ago which had been riddled in hitches. We rode in a comfortable silence, only speaking to exchange short pleasantries, change the music, or request a bathroom break. Before long we were at the camp with our friends rushing to greet us.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Trent yelled out the open window before we came to a complete stop. “It was all Chef’s fault.”
Sasha walked up to him calmly. He jumped when she raised her hands. In all honesty, I thought she might punch him too. We were both proven wrong when she grabbed his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss they definitely could have shared in private. “Happy New Year’s, baby,” she whispered loud enough for us still to hear.
“Well if I knew you’d kiss me like that, I’d mess up more often,” Trent replied.
“Don’t push it,” she snapped. “Hey girl!” She continued looking at Ivory, her piercing tone causing Trent to jump again.
“Hey!” Ivory replied, giving her a warm hug.
“We missed you, Ri,” Cadence screeched, joining the hug before pulling the women off toward the cabins.
“Fellas, y’all have fun in Vermont?” Ace asked, approaching from the safe distance he’d been standing anticipating the girl’s high-pitched reunion.
“I had a great time. Especially knowing Sasha’s not pissed,” Trent answered. “But this guy here really enjoyed himself and our unforeseen riding companion.”
“Is that right?” Ace yelped. “You and Ivory?” The shock on his face was fitting. I could hardly believe it, and still didn’t know what it was anyways.
“Me and Ivory nothing. You know this fool just be talkin’,” I replied, unloading the bags from the truck.
“Yes. He be talkin’,” Ace repeated. “But looking at you, I’m guessing it’s partially true and the two of you had some sort of chemistry flowing.”
I couldn’t even muster a response to Ace’s comment as Trent began making kissing noises, causing both men to share in a childish laugh.
“All right, all right,” Ace concluded. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that, but, Chef, I read that food blog that got posted yesterday about Sweet Hill and has been going viral. I bet the B&B will be booked all year, which has to be good for business.”
“What blog?” Trent and I asked in unison.
The article Ace showed us from his phone mentioned more than just the food of Sweet Hill, although that was an essential part. It also discussed the heart of the town and the Keating Bed & Breakfast as though you could taste the cheeriness in every savory bite. A traveler’s home away from home as the blog read. It was exactly the way I’d describe the town if I were more eloquent in my notations. My stories often came out more comedic or overly detailed in technicality, especially when it came to food.
“Hold up, I recognize these pictures.” I scrolled up to see the blogger information. “Sassy Sugar?” I questioned rhetorically.
“I think that’s called a pseudonym,” Trent answered.
“Thanks.”
I thought the sarcasm in my tone was apparent until Trent said, “You’re welcome.” He really enjoyed ignoring people’s social cues.
“Any idea who Sassy Sugar is?” I asked Ace, scrolling through their other blogs. It couldn’t be Ivory. Could it?
Ace’s horrible poker face was the only response I needed to know that my assumption was right. Ivory Vaughn was the food blogger who’d raved about the Bed & Breakfast. Sassy Sugar in the flesh.
Chapter 7
IVORY
“I’m not going,” I protested. “Camping in the woods, in the winter no less, sounds like a horror movie. I’ll be the first one killed.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Sasha stated, still trying to hand me the last backpack.
“Nope,” I replied, unfazed. “No way am I extending this trip a few days to go camping. I need to get home and clean up the social mess that erupted from me missing that party, being recorded and blasted picking through goat poop, and essentially committing social suicide.”
“Men, a little help,” Cadence shouted.
“What the heck are we supposed to do?” Trent answered. “I can’t even picture Ivory in the woods.”
“Thank you, Trent,” I replied. “Finally, someone’s making sense around here.”
Chef had been eerily quiet. You could’ve forgotten he was even there given his silence and laid-back façade. The few glances I stole implied he wouldn’t care if I stayed or went. He just seemed indifferent.
“We can shorten the trip to just one night,” Ace negotiated. “I already pre-setup the perfect area to ensure it’ll be safe and warm enough.”
“My fiancé is such a great protector, he hiked our trip a day early to ensure we were good,” Cadence boasted, planting a soft kiss on Ace’s lips.
“Aww, aren’t you both cute.” I smirked. “But it’s still going to be a hard pass for me. So just go and enjoy your little woodsy whatever.”
“Ivory, let’s go talk for a second,” Chef said, breaking his silence for the first time.
The group seemed as surprised as I was. Yet even more intrigued when he took my hand, gliding me around the nearby cabin.
“This is getting to be a habit,” I said, recalling the way he pulled me into the barn back in Vermont.
“It can end the same, too.” He grinned, flirting with me for the first time since we’d reached the camp. “But first I have to name the terms.”
“What does that mean?”
“You remember, you agreed to do anything if I changed the radio station on our way to the B&B.”
“Don’t say it,” I protested.
“So, my terms are you coming on this camping trip with us,” he said, ignoring my objection.
“Come on, Chef, can’t you choose anything else?” I whined.
“Do you really want to go down that rabbit hole again? Because I can say yes.”
“Meaning I’d owe you some new open-ended agreement,” I stated. “That’s another hard pass.”
“Well then looks like we’re going on our first date.”
With the makings to be my worst date yet. Three wrong dates. That had to be this week’s theme.
�
�I could just back out. Say screw our agreement,” I threatened.
“But you won’t,” he self-righteously replied.
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because you, Ivory Vaughn, are one of the most honest people I know.”
His words echoed through my body, landing gently on my heart. “Kiss?” he teased.
“In your dreams, Rudolph.”
I knew not demanding he name his terms in the car was going to bite me in my butt. Camping overnight in the forest was a worst-case scenario that I hadn’t even imagined though. That’s why he was so silently smug. Because he knew he had this in his back pocket.
“Let’s go!” Chef announced cheerfully once we returned to the group.
“Okay, how did you do that?” Sasha asked as I grabbed the backpack from her.
“I have my ways.”
“You’ll pay for this, Jackson,” I warned. “You all will.”
“Let the fun begin.”
Fun? There was no fun to be had. The bugs were huge. My hair was a mess, reminding me of the first and only other time I’d been in these woods before, rappelling off rocks … which admittedly wasn’t that bad. However, being in the forest for a couple hours was a far cry from staying overnight in the dead of winter.
“You must really like him,” Cadence said, allowing the boys to walk ahead out of earshot.
“Ivory dating Chef?” Sasha questioned. “That’ll be the day.”
The two shared a giggle, their gloved hands halting me in my tracks when I didn’t respond. Staying quiet was never my thing. My silence apparently saying far more than protesting would have.
“Wait, please don’t tell me Ms. True Love is Bullshit and ‘I want a life of luxury over substance’ is falling for Mr. Homebred himself?”
Sasha’s squealing transcription was accurate, and I had no idea how in the hell it’d happened in such a short amount of time. Blame his amazing parents or Vermont’s fantastically surprising cuisine, but somewhere along the way I started to like Chef.
