To Catch A Player (Second Chance)

by Piper Sullivan

  I froze. “Why?”

  She laughed again. “Maybe roll down your windows for a bit?” Reese giggled as I ran down the stairs to open my windows. When I came back I found her standing at the stove in a very nice kitchen.

  “I think we have different real estate agents.”

  “It’s a tax write-off—a business necessity, if I don’t want to spend all my free time at the restaurant. Which I don’t.” She shrugged and turned back to the stove, leaning over to slurp from the large wooden spoon. “Come here.”

  I hesitated, and when Reese looked back at me with a raised brow, I said, “You’re not going to poison me or scald me with hot barbecue sauce?”

  “I haven’t decided yet, but this is part of assisting me. You in, or not?” There was a challenge in her voice, and I knew I didn’t have an option.

  “In. Definitely in.” I moved around the big island counter topped with different pots, bowls, and ingredients and when I was close enough, I opened my mouth for her to feed me. “Well?”

  With an annoyed groan, she slid the spoon between my lips, letting out a half-hearted, “Oops,” when the sauce dribbled down my chin. “My bad.”

  “Right.” I ignored the little smile that quirked her lips up and closed my eyes as the taste of the sauce coated my tongue. “Chocolate?”

  She nodded. “And chipotle.”

  “It’s weird, but very good.. What will you use it for?”

  She tried to hide it, but my question pleased her. “That depends. Rafe thinks it would be better as a mole, but I have something for you to try. Sit.” She pointed to the square pine table for six, covered in a rainbow of place mats and napkins.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Rafe?”

  Reese frowned over her shoulder. “There is no deal. He’s been a good friend to me, that’s it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed her. I knew Rafe, and the man rarely spent a night alone—yet he spent plenty of nights hanging out with Reese. But now wasn’t the time to push it. “Is this real chili, or some of that vegetarian substitute?”

  “Beans are an excellent source of protein, but if you don’t want the chili…” She let the threat hang in the air, unspoken.

  “I want it,” I growled and she flashed a satisfied grin before turning to grab a silver ladle and a wooden-looking bowl. “You’re prickly as hell.”

  She laughed again and I looked around, sure I was being punk’d. Who was this friendly version of my surly chef? “Am I? Or am I offering you a free meal and you’re being picky about it?” She set the bowl in front of me, then grabbed a spoon and set it on the napkin, a root beer beside it.

  “How did you…?”

  She shrugged. “You’re a regular customer, Detective. Don’t read too much into it.”

  Ouch. “I won’t.” But I did. It meant she paid more attention than she let on, and now I was more desperate than ever to find out why.

  Reese

  I appreciated after-hours at my restaurant even more than early mornings, because the place felt lived in. Used. And mostly because it was the perfect time to try out some of the ideas that came to me throughout the day.

  The kitchen smelled like ginger, brown sugar and soy sauce—not what you’d expect inside a barbecue joint deep in the heart of Texas, but it smelled damn good. And it would be the perfect sauce for tomorrow’s Asian shredded pork lunch special.

  Customers like Eddy would call it exotic, while Helen would call it pretentious—either way, they would both gobble it up and spread the word far and wide. That’s why I put up with the gossip. And the meddling.

  A knock sounded at the back door, startling me. Not that I thought it was a robber, though given what had happened with Ginger recently, it could be. But really, I was more terrified that just thinking of the meddling matchmakers might have conjured them up.

  “Ginger. Thank goodness it’s just you.”

  She frowned and stepped inside with a canvas tote slung over her shoulder. “Not the greeting I was hoping for.”

  “Sorry,” I laughed and explained what I was previously thinking.

  “Apology accepted,” she said easily and took a glance around the kitchen at all the pots simmering on the stove. “Are you ready for the first cook-off competition this weekend?”

  I shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s chili, which is a Texas staple that I’ve been making since I was nine. Then again, it’s chili. A Texas staple.”

  Ginger laughed and shook her head, finding a small corner of table for her tablet and phone. “Care to share what you have planned?”

  “Sure. I’m working on a mole-style chili, which I’m planning to run on special for the days leading up to the competition if anyone in town wants to give me feedback. The other is a surprise you’ll have to show up at the cook-off to sample.”

  Ginger’s grin did nothing to hide her surprise. “Someone prepared notes for their interview.”

  “I did,” I admitted. “Makes it easier. Less stressful.”

  “Glad to hear it. So, how are things going with Jackson?” She wiggled her brows suggestively and I rolled my eyes.

  “Not as bad as I was expecting,” I admitted. Things were still tense between us, but that was because my stupid body was still attracted to his utter maleness and hadn’t gotten the memo that he was old news.

  “You have to know that I am absolutely dying to know what happened between you two.” Her face showed eagerness, but not the breathless kind that enjoyed hearing other people’s bad news. This was plain old curiosity.

  But I wasn’t ready. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s firmly in the past, and that’s where I’d like to keep it.” The last thing I wanted was people in town talking about me, again. Especially when it came to dating someone I shouldn’t. Been there, done that. Got the emotional scars to prove it.

  It was only this past year that the good people of Tulip seemed to have forgotten about my past romantic indiscretions. Chad the developer from Santa Fe had reeled me in right from the beginning with his floppy blond hair and prep-school good looks. Turned out he wanted my house more than me. A total bummer.

  Then, there was Ricky, an artist from Walla Walla. He made me fall in love with his poetry and sexy sketches of me doing mundane things like dusting or stirring. But his affection was as whimsical as the rest of him, and he blew out of Tulip with Margo, the yoga instructor.

  See? My bad luck is not exaggerated.

  Instead of being offended by my gruff tone, she leaned forward, more fascinated than ever but not willing to pry. “Interesting.”

  “No.” I pointed a finger at her and when her smile widened, I switched things up and pointed a wooden spoon at her. “No, it’s not interesting. It’s nothing at all, Ginger. Nothing.”

  Through her grin, she managed to zip her lips and throw away the key. Then she opened her mouth, and I rushed to beat her to speaking.

  “Want to taste the chili?”

  She groaned and shook her head as another knock sounded at the door. “More than anything I want to taste whatever smells soo good in here, but I want to do it live on camera at the competition. It’ll be more organic and authentic that way. Click, click, click,” she said with a lot less enthusiasm than she’d started with as she pushed off the wall to go open the door.

  I was too busy thinking about bottling and selling some of the mole sauce and chili at the cook-off, and here at the restaurant, to notice who the new visitor was.

  “Here to help make sure the boss wins this weekend?” I heard Ginger ask, and I frowned.

  What was Maven doing here this time of night?

  “Something like that.” Not Maven. Jackson’s deep voice carried over to me, and I looked up just in time to watch him run a nervous hand through this thick dark hair. “Busy?” His gaze settled on mine like a warm hand and I shook my head.

  “Nope,” Ginger added unnecessarily and tugged him inside. “In fact, it’s pretty perfect you’re here because I can get some pics of you
two prepping for the big event!”

  I groaned and glared at her. “I think I liked you better when you went after traffickers and criminals.”

  She stuck her tongue out. “I go after those stories, too, but lucky for you this week is all hot hunky heroes and delicious barbecue. Good news is also news, Reese.”

  “Oh please, spare me!” She laughed and picked up her phone, fiddling with some of the settings, which gave me the perfect time to plead my case. “Can’t we do photos on the day of the actual event?” My hair was a frizzy halo, my skin was pink from spending all day in the hot kitchen, and I felt like a big sweaty mess.

  “You look beautiful,” Jackson whispered in my ear and I steadfastly ignored the shiver his breathe on my skin caused.

  When I glanced back to tell him I wasn’t buying his lies, he wore a small smile. And my chef’s hat, which I never wore because it was too darn hot back here. “Nice hat.”

  “Thanks. What about my tool?” The question was suggestive and naughty, but the effect was ruined by the oversized whisk attachment he held up.

  “You know that’s for the big stand mixer, don’t you?”

  He frowned at the wire whisk and shrugged, holding it like a normal hand whisk. “How do I look?”

  “Great,” Ginger enthused and motioned for me to move in beside him. “Now, point your wooden spoon at him just like you did to me earlier.”

  I did and she laughed. So did Jackson.

  “Perfect. Now scowl at him and Jackson, look irreverent. Yep, just like that! A little more scowl, Reese. Perfect.”

  “This is right up your alley, isn’t it?” He asked through a blinding white smile, only loud enough that I could hear him.

  “That offer to make you a sauce still stands,” I told him, gravely serious.

  Jackson barked out a laugh and then doubled over, like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

  Ginger frowned. “You make personalized sauces? Why haven’t I heard about this?” She clearly misunderstood.

  Jackson laughed even harder, somehow managing to stand upright again, though thee occasional chuckle still erupted out of him. “She threatened to turn me into a barbecue sauce.”

  Ginger’s eyes went wide, her gaze bouncing between us and trying to do some kind of calculation. I stayed stiff and emotionless, refusing to give away anything that might incriminate me. “Damn. Well good luck with… whatever this is. Thanks for the photos, kids. See ya!” Then she was gone, after she’d started all kinds of trouble.

  I ignored the tension—something I was becoming an expert at—and looked at the bag Jackson left on the table. “What’s in the bag?”

  He shrugged, his cheeks pink, but not from the kitchen heat. “I was in the city today for work and found these,” he said, holding up a couple beer bottles that were unfamiliar to me. “I thought maybe you’d find some interesting way to use them.” He was nervous, which made me nervous. Which was ridiculous because there was no reason for either of us to be nervous.

  “Beer?”

  “Yeah. You can cook with beer, right? I mean I’ve heard of beer can chicken, so… shit. Can you cook with beer?”

  I laughed and nodded. “You can. Let’s see what you got.” It was a sweet gesture I refused to think of as sweet. It was thoughtful, something anyone else in Tulip would have done for anyone else. “What made you choose these?” He’d gotten a cherry and a blueberry flavored beer.

  “I don’t know, it seems like berries could go pretty good with barbecue sauce.”

  He made a good point. “Does that mean you’re volunteering to be my guinea pig for these particular recipes?” If we could do this, be friendly, the tension would disappear eventually. Right?

  He nodded. “What about Rafe?”

  “Allergic to blueberries,” I said easily. “What else is in there?”

  He smiled and lifted a fancy-looking brown bottle. “Coffee and chocolate undertones. Might be another secret ingredient for the chili I smell right now. That smells delicious. So, so delicious.”

  I laughed at his obvious attempt to get a bowl. “How delicious?” I smiled and realized something far more dangerous was starting to happen. I could handle being attracted to Jackson, but liking him? I was pretty sure that I couldn’t survive. Distance was what I needed.

  “Delicious enough that I’m willing to put in some time chopping onions and crying my eyes out to get a bowl.”

  Good. Distance was what I needed. “Perfect. Grab an apron and let’s get to work.”

  His grin brightened. “Then chili?”

  “If you’re a good boy, I’ll reward you with chili.” His grin got even brighter and I realized what I was doing. Flirting. With Jackson Slater. “Back to work, Detective.”

  He chuckled and I ignored him—something I was becoming an expert at pretending to do.

  Jackson

  “How are things going with you and Reese?”

  Rafe sat beside me in a booth at the Black Thumb, with Antonio in the seat across from us. By some stroke of good luck, we’d all arrived at the same time and found a table easily since it wasn’t late enough for the late-night crowd.

  I looked at Rafe, really looked at him, and I started to see what all the fuss was about among the women in Tulip. He had dark features all over, dark hair and matching eyes with olive-toned skin. According to the women in town, even Bo and Nina, he was as handsome as any movie star. He was… all right.

  “What’s it to you?”

  Rafe frowned. “Just asking. Reese has been pretty tight-lipped and I’m curious if she’s thawed toward you.” He let out an amused laugh and shared a look with Antonio. “It’s the damnedest thing, because Reese doesn’t really dislike anyone. It’s her worst quality.” He rolled his eyes, the smile one of pure affection but nothing else.

  “It’s going okay, I guess. All I’ve done is chop onions and garlic and peppers.” I didn’t mind at all. As long as Reese was working, she warmed up and answered my questions.

  “Offer to cut the fries for her.” He studied me for a long time before he shrugged and stood. “I’m gonna see what’s taking so long to pour beer.”

  It was about damn time. The man was impossible to dislike, and that made me feel even grouchier.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Antonio glared at me, his stern expression making his scowl look hella intimidating.

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Bullshit.” He folded his arms across his massive chest, looking like he was ready to brawl. I might be tall and lean, but I packed one hell of a punch. “You’re being a dick to Rafe, a guy it’s damned hard to be a dick to, and I want to know why.”

  “Was I being a dick?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I shrugged. Rafe was a big boy, he could handle it. “Interesting.”

  Antonio sat back in his seat and stared at me for a long time before a slow smile spread across his face, which was a disconcerting sight. “Is this about a certain barbecue magician?”

  “You know, Vargas, I liked you better before you went and got a woman and became a dad. The old version of you didn’t pry.”

  He laughed. “Now that guy was a dick.”

  “He was all right.”

  Eventually, a waitress dropped off our drinks, but Rafe hadn’t reappeared. “Reese was a quiet kid in school, kind of a weirdo, and she didn’t have a lot of friends growing up.”

  “That was a long time ago,” I insisted, unable to believe the pretty, compelling woman I knew was anything close to being an outsider.

  “Maybe so, but small towns are kind of clique-ish and it’s hard to outgrow who you were. Anyway, she and Rafe have become friends. Just friends. So, let this go, will you?”

  Friends. “You sure?”

  “I am.” Antonio took a sip of his beer and groaned in relief. “Besides, I don’t think Rafe is what’s standing in your way.”

  “No? You know something.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I don’t
know a damn thing. It’s just a feeling I get.”

  “A feeling, huh?” It sounded to me like he was fishing for information himself, so I shrugged and took a sip of my own beer. “What does this feeling tell you?”

  “That something happened between you two.”

  “And?” He stayed silent but his expression was serious. Sober. “And?”

  “And you hurt her somehow.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, even I gathered that much. Thanks.” It didn’t take a genius to figure that much out, but the question was, what did I do?

  “Interesting.”

  “Oh, shut… up.” The universe chose that moment to put Reese right in my line of sight as she and Ginger waltzed in. She looked the same as she always did, but even with the distance between us, I could see that she’d done something to her eyes and her mouth. Her hair was down in silky, touchable-looking waves.

  “Something or someone on your mind, Detective?” The amusement that laced Antonio’s voice wasn’t lost on me.

  “Shut up and drink your beer. We’re going to play pool.”

  “What about Rafe?”

  “If he hasn’t already found a woman, he’ll find us easily enough.” He and Reese seemed to have a radar for one another anyway. I stood and grabbed my half-finished beer with a smile. “Coming?”

  “In a sec,” he grumbled and I took off without him, scanning the room to see where the ladies had gone.

  I spotted them easily enough, at a table near the back waiting for a pool table to empty out. Their heads were tilted close together; the conversation looked intense, so I kept my distance.

  Mostly.

  “Seriously, girl, you are completely and totally oblivious to male attention.”

  Reese scoffed, “Am not.”

  “That guy just came over and asked to buy you a drink, right?”

  She nodded. “I have a full drink right in front of me.”

  “You could have told him he could buy the next round… while you get to know one another.”