The Fifty-Two Week Chronicles (Delectables in the City Book 1)

by Joslyn Westbrook

  Reluctantly he agreed, vowing incessantly to pay me back in a couple of weeks. So, I excused myself while I called in a favor to Gracie Winfield, asking her to step into the working lease approval process, transferring money out of my hefty account, and writing me in as an anonymous and silent partner on the paperwork. Imagine the horror if my name—Penelope Monroe—could be seen by Jonathan on lease agreement paperwork?

  Ugh.

  How the heck did I get myself into this mess? And I don’t mean the mess of being Kennedy Prescott. I could have easily never agreed to take on this assignment for Manifique. I mean how did I get myself in the mess of falling for someone who I know will never love the real me? And why have I fallen for him so soon?

  “Kennedy, are you okay? You look pale.” Jonathan asks, interrupting my internal pity party.

  “Yes, I’m super fantastic,” I reply.

  Truth is I am fantastic, even though things have become slightly complicated.

  Okay. Enough about all of that. It’s been a few hours since Jonathan and I first looked at the building with Valerie, from going to the local real estate office with her to process paperwork, to finally getting approved for the one-month lease with an option to buy. We won’t actually gain access into the building, with keys and all, until 9 a.m. tomorrow morning.

  So now, the two of us are having a celebratory coffee across the street from Jonathan’s new Pop-up restaurant. Well, our restaurant.

  “Thank you again, Kennedy. And like I said, I’ll pay you back in a couple of weeks.” He reaches across the round wrought-iron table we are sitting at, taking a hold of my hand as we gawk like groupies at the restaurant across the way—ours, for the next month.

  “Will we be able to set up everything in time for the grand opening this weekend?” I ask, my eyes still fixed on the empty building.

  “I certainly hope so. I’ll be able to gather a true assessment tomorrow morning, once we gain access.”

  “What are you going to name it?” I ask, thinking how thrilling it is to be a part of this terrific opportunity. I mean if all goes well, Jonathan can begin anew, making all of his goals and dreams come true.

  “That’s something I haven’t thought yet. But it will come to me by tomorrow morning, I’m sure.” He winks and smiles, taking a sip of his large cold brew. “You sure you’re okay, beautiful?”

  I nod, yes. “And all is okay with Knight and Daze, with your absence the rest of this week and this weekend?”

  “Yep. I texted my chef and the manager. They have made sure all shifts are covered and that someone will be there every day to open and close.”

  “That’s wonderful! I can’t wait until we can get started.”

  “Me too. Yet in the meantime, I’m going to work on menu ideas and I’m hoping you can help me with a marketing plan?”

  “Of course. Anything you need, I’m game.”

  He checks his watch, “We should probably get back to Brier Hill. Aunt Becca will be stoked that we’ll be in town for the rest of this week, and I bet she’ll be equally excited about the Pop-up restaurant idea. Plus, you’ll be able to meet Uncle Joe and formally meet Olivia.”

  Aunt Becca is beside herself with joy, clearly evident as she jumps up and down after hugging and kissing both me and Jonathan on the cheek.

  “What can I do to help? I’ve got extra supplies, a few vendors you can have access to, and of course we can all pitch in this weekend for the grand affair. Oooh, I even have spiffy, not-so-uniform-y uniforms you can wear.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Becca,” Jonathan says, “we’ll probably take you up on all those offers.”

  “Hello? We’re home,” says a man’s voice, off in the distance.

  “Honey, we’re in the kitchen,” answers Aunt Becca, her voice raised slightly. She looks to Jonathan and then to me. “That’s Uncle Joe and Olivia. They’re home!”

  After Uncle Joe and Olivia say their hellos to Aunt Becca and Jonathan, I am introduced to them both. Uncle Joe gives me a hug—saying he’s also a hugger, like Aunt Becca.

  Olivia shakes my hand, looking at me with her head cocked to the side. “I think we’ve met before, no?” she asks, and I notice her pink hair and nose ring have disappeared.

  “Uh yes,” I say, “we met last week when I visited the restaurant. You served me, actually. But your hair looked a little different. The color in particular.”

  “Oh yeah. Aunt Becca said while I’m here I represent Brier Hill and she made me lose the nose ring and remove the pink streaks in my hair.” She frowns, looking as though she lost a friend or something.

  “Well, your hair looks absolutely lovely. And I hardly noticed your nose ring is no longer present.”

  She smiles softly and excuses herself, escaping up the stairs.

  The four of us—Uncle Joe, Aunt Becca, Jonathan and myself move to the lounge where there is a piano, two cozy couches, a wood-burning fireplace, and a bar. We all get comfortable on the couches, as Jonathan begins to fill his uncle in on his plans for the restaurant.

  “It was actually Kennedy’s idea. She suggested I adopt this Pop-up concept to see if I have a chance at success here in town,” he explains, placing his hand on my thigh.

  “Sounds like a wise idea. What happens if you find your restaurant will be a success here?” inserts Aunt Becca.

  Jonathan looks down, and I can tell a small piece of his joy has diminished. “If I’m successful, I’m prepared to sell Knight and Daze. I’ve been receiving offers for quite some time now, but I’ve just been sweeping them under the rug.”

  “And your loft?” Uncle Joe asks, with his eyebrows raised.

  “I’ll sell that too, find a place in town or by the water, and let Olivia stay here while she finishes high school.”

  “Very well. Seems you’ve got it all figured out, which is wonderful. Just let us know what we can do to help. I’m so proud of you, Jonathan and your mom and dad would be too.”

  Chapter 24

  “I totally owe you thirty-six bucks,” I tell Sebastian after calling him via FaceTime a few seconds ago.

  “Woman, it was beyond inevitable. I knew the chemistry between two hotties would result in the horizontal mambo. How was it? Did he give you a big O?”

  I lower the volume on my phone and take my voice down to a whisper.

  “Sebastian, I think I’m falling for him,” I say, sinking into the covers on Jonathan’s bed.

  “So he did give you a big O. Honey, I’d fall for him too. Where is he now?” Sebastian asks, shoving a bite of pasta into his mouth.

  “He’s down at the shop, picking us out some clothes and other items we’ll need while we are here for the rest of this week.”

  “Well, I love the plan about the Pop-up and I’m sure it will all go well. Want me to come up and help?”

  “I’ll let you know. But I will need help with some of the PR stuff, getting the word out about this weekend.”

  “Sure thing, love. Just send me a to-do list and I’ll make it happen.”

  “Thanks, Sebastian. And I miss you.”

  “Me too, babe. And…” He pauses, taking another bite of pasta, “…have you thought about a plan to keep your identity hidden, for the next hundred years or so?”

  “No. And I can’t worry about that now. Not until I get through this weekend, at least.”

  Sebastian shakes his head and rubs his temple, “Alrighty then, in the meantime, just go with the flow. If he makes you feel good, it will all work itself out. I promise. Anyway, I’ve gotta go now. HGTV’s Property Brothers is about to invade my television. Ciao, babe.”

  Is it possible, I wonder, if this, whatever it may be, will all work itself out like Sebastian suggests? And if so, in whose favor? Surely, one of us is bound to get hurt, or perhaps both of us.

  Hurt is inevitable, like crashing thunder after a lightning strike. Thunder has always frightened me and so has the thought of getting hurt.

  I get comfortable, slipping into one of Jonathan’s T-shir
ts before sinking back into his bed.

  If all fails, at least I’ll always have Brier Hill, the place where I let loose and fell—

  Jonathan walks in with shopping bags, a bowl of strawberries, and a bottle of sparkling wine—a wonderful intrusion to my heady mindset.

  “Sorry I took so long,” he says, placing the shopping bags onto the bed. He holds up the bottle of wine and strawberries. “I thought we’d indulge a little…by the fireplace?”

  “I love strawberries and wine,” I tell him. “What’s in the bags?”

  “Oh right,” he begins as he rummages through, pulling items out, one at a time. “Wine glasses of course, a pair of jeans like you requested, a couple of shirts, socks…you know, a few essentials.”

  I climb out of bed to put the goodies from the bags away, and Jonathan turns on the electric fireplace, sets up a blanket and some pillows, then disappears into the bathroom while I claim my spot by the fire. It seems crazy to want to sit by a fire in the summer, but the East Hampton coastal breeze lowers the temperature at night, and Aunt Becca keeps the air temp inside Brier Hill pretty crisp, so the soft, warm glow from the fire feels good.

  Jonathan reappears, wearing only pajama bottoms, flaunting his ripped upper body as blatantly as a Las Vegas male stripper flashes his goods to an audience of horny women.

  He pours us both some of the wine, hands me a glass, and positions himself next to me on the blanket, with the bowl of strawberries nestled between us. We both face the lustrous fire; its flames flicker and dance flirtatiously, a perfect representation of the two of us.

  “It’s been an eventful day,” Jonathan says, as he feeds me a strawberry.

  “Yep. It sure has. I didn’t wake up this morning, expecting to be part owner of a Pop-up restaurant.”

  “Did you ever consider this is something you’re meant to do? I mean be involved in the development and operations of a restaurant? You seem to know a lot about food; I sense your innate passion and appreciation for it.”

  I smile at his inference. Perhaps he’s right. Maybe being a food critic was only prepping me for something deep within.

  “Well, then if that’s the case, I’ll need to be less cooking impaired,” I say, jokingly.

  “I’ll be more than elated to give you private cooking lessons, my sweet.”

  He swipes a long strand of hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. And looks at me as though he’s just realized something.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  I can feel my heart begin to beat slightly out of rhythm. “Okay, what is it?”

  “Do you really wear glasses?”

  I chuckle a little. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I could tell right off the bat, they didn’t seem to fit you too well, which is why I made a comment about them. I was teasing you.” He chuckles a little. “Then you showed up yesterday without them and you mentioned something about wearing contacts. Yet, since we’ve been here, I haven’t seen you do anything contact-lenses related.”

  I pause briefly, taking a long sip of wine, “Okay, full disclosure. And this is totally gonna sound crazy.” I take a deep breath in and out. “Sebastian suggested I wear them, citing they made me look more businesslike. It’s the PR person in him. He believes everyone should look their role. He even picked out my clothes. It’s kind of who he is. And for the record, I hated those damn glasses.” I smile, trying to assess his reaction. And just decide to take another long sip of wine instead.

  Jonathan finally laughs and says, “I’m really glad Sebastian places so much care into his clients, which means I’m in good hands.”

  “Do you have more questions?” I ask, feeling a small buzz come over me. All of that wine I just inhaled.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact I do,” he says then pops a strawberry into his mouth. “Why are you attracted to me? And I know it’s a pretty safe assumption, given, well, you know, how close we’ve become.” He takes a swig from his glass of wine as if it were a self-reward for coughing up the nerve to ask me that poignant question.

  I think for only a few seconds. “I’m attracted to you because somehow, you bring out someone in me I never knew existed. I feel as though with you I can escape some weird world I never belonged to and you’re my new reality. I-I can’t explain it other than that.” I adjust the pillows and lie down, feeling the wine flow through me now more intensely. “And why are you attracted to me?” I manage through a melancholy whisper.

  “Your tenacious ability to get to the bottom of things, for one,” he says without hesitation. “I’m not one to open up, but y-you’ve managed to extract much more from me than anyone else.”

  He moves the bowl of strawberries that sits between us, and lays down next to me.

  “You are the most ravishing woman I’ve met, and I want nothing more than to continue to learn even more about you. What makes you laugh, what makes you cry, and even what makes you angry,” he says, his tone husky and low as the tips of his fingers slowly make their way from my leg, up to my outer thigh, until his hand reaches my hip.

  I too want nothing more than to continue to learn all about him. Will I get the chance to? Or will everything change after this weekend, when we leave here and go back to the city? What if I just stop now? Open up and confess who I am?

  And just as I’m about to open my mouth, almost conjuring up the nerve to tell him, he leans in closer, and we kiss, the light from the fire adding heat to the growing passion between us. He pulls me on top of him and as I sit straddled across the lower half of his body, I remove the T-shirt, exposing my breasts. He grabs them, gentle but forceful, lifting up his head, and I move in closer allowing his mouth to delicately devour my nipples. You can’t tell him now. Not ever, my conscience reprimands.

  I moan at his playful bites, and he turns me onto my back, slowly removing my panties. I anxiously help him ease out of his pants, freeing his manhood that I now so wholeheartedly crave. I lay straddled, patiently waiting for him to ease himself inside of me.

  But instead, he’s teasing, grinding against me as he moves his hands along the side of my breasts, and then back to my thighs.

  “Please, I want you now,” I beg hungrily.

  But he doesn’t give in.

  “You have to be patient, baby. I want you too. But I so want this to last as long as it possibly can.”

  He moves down slowly, licking and kissing until he reaches my sweet spot and since he teased me up so fucking good, it takes only one lick and two sucks to bring me to a glorious high.

  Then, he swoops in, taking me until he deservingly reaches his climax and softly whispers, “You see…patience is a freaking virtue.”

  “Foodie Crush.” Jonathan says, as we step out of the shower early the next morning.

  “I’m sorry?” I ask, drying myself off.

  “What if that’s what we call the restaurant? Foodie Crush?”

  “I like it. A lot,” I admit, admiring the way his perfectly sculpted body looks when it’s wet and naked.

  “I’m glad you agree.” His lips curve into a playful grin. “And don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I giggle, hanging my towel on the hook by the open bathroom door.

  “Like you want to throw me down and have your way with me.”

  “Well stop brandishing your sex gun around like you want me to throw you down and have my way with you.”

  He laughs. “My sex gun?”

  “Yes,” I say, backing out of the bathroom and into the bedroom as he walks toward me. “And don’t you dare come any closer. Didn’t you get enough of me in the shower?” I say, losing my footing, falling onto the bed.

  “Ms. Prescott, I think I was pretty clear yesterday,” he says, climbing on top of me, delicately kissing me on the lips. “I can never get enough of you.”

  Chapter 25

  The next few days seem to charge by like a high-speed commuter train, as Jonathan and I work hard, preparing for the grand opening of Foodie Crush.<
br />
  Between the two of us, things fall into place so quickly and so smoothly, it’s hard not to believe this is only meant to be.

  Once we gained access to the building, we quickly realized the owner left many usable pieces of equipment and supplies behind, which saved us money we set aside. We also came across a working wireless music system, elated that we’ll be able to stream funky beats from an iPod, creating a buzzing atmosphere.

  I discovered Olivia to be quite a sweet young lady, as the two of us got to know each other while we paired up to complete a thorough cleaning, set up tables and chairs, and make runs back and forth to local markets using the car Aunt Becca let me borrow.

  Jonathan busied himself creating a slew of unique menu offerings. And as soon as the dishes were chosen, scrupulously developed, and tweaked to perfection, I forwarded the details to Sebastian. He then created a brilliant online campaign, complete with a dedicated website, a Facebook page, a Twitter account, and an Instagram page full of photos showcasing the dishes Jonathan skillfully prepared and artfully plated.

  Sebastian also had storefront signage (a custom banner) and trendy menus sent to us via FedEx, and distributed a press release, which was, incidentally, picked up by The East Hampton Sentinel and the notable New York Herald, in which my idol, the acclaimed food critic, Gregory Hambrick, is employed.

  Jonathan chose dishes he felt would best represent him as an innovative chef and a dedicated admirer of food; in my worthy opinion, his offerings are the Rolls Royce of comfort food:

  * * *

  Appetizers:

  Stuffed Mac and Cheese

  Pork Rinds

  Duck Quesadilla

  Entrees:

  Backyard Burger (with pork and beef), served with truffle fries

  Fried Chicken and Waffles

  Fish Street Tacos (with radish)

  Kobe Beef Street Tacos (with wicked salsa)