“Kelsey.” I nod once.
“John, this is Oliver,” she says to the man. “He’s an old family friend.”
“Family friend?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Well, he and his mom worked for us,” she rectifies.
“Oliver Tanner, her ex-boyfriend,” I introduce myself, offering a handshake.
“John Meeks, Kelsey’s husband,” he answers, shaking my hand with a firm grasp.
My jaw clenches when he mentions his relationship with her. We haven’t been in love in years—if what we had even was love. But I can’t help feeling aggravated and embarrassed at being caught off guard.
John’s phone rings. He sighs, and glances at Kelsey.
“It won’t take me long, babe,” he promises, walking away.
“You’re married,” I say bitterly. “After everything we shared, you not only dumped me via email—while on tour—but you’re married.”
“For God’s sake, Oliver. We were children.” She rolls her eyes, gesturing with her hands. “It happened years ago. You should get over it.”
“Children don't fuck like we did," I argue. “The least you could’ve done was have the decency to give me a real explanation.”
“Look, John and I have to drive up to Atlanta. I’m glad you’re ...” She looks at me from head to toe, “... alive, but I don’t see the point of this conversation.”
She turns around and walks toward her husband. She’s still so fucking unbelievable.
“And there you go, walking away again without looking back,” I shout.
“You want me to stay and what, Oliver? We are over. I have a life in New York and you … you’re the one who decided that there wasn’t anything worth holding onto here. Not even me.”
She waves her hand. “I’m leaving before this turns into a shouting match, and we make fools of ourselves.” She turns around, once again getting the last word.
Kelsey hasn’t changed. She’s still the same selfish bitch I grew up with. She takes until there’s nothing left, jumps ship, leaving the rest of us to clean up after her messes. I can’t remember why we stayed together for so long. Perhaps hormones or … who knows, it was so long ago. I look at my car and then back at the restaurant, debating what I should do next. It only takes me a few seconds to decide that I need to eat something. When I enter Blythe’s, it’s like coming home.
The large dining room windows frame the pleasant view of the garden. The greenery outside meshes well with the interior wooden walls to match the color palette of the landscape. Everything is just slightly turned on its axis—familiar but different enough that the entire place is a new world, its own alternate universe. The white walls are now a light yellow. The dining room seems bigger and brighter than I remember. As I turn toward the kitchen, my entire world stops.
A woman marches out from the kitchen nimbly. Her warm chestnut colored hair makes her beautiful pink lips stand out. Her cheeks are rough and chapped. She wears a grey t-shirt with Blythe’s logo on it, and a pair of tight jeans. I’m caught off guard by the confident, sexy strut that tells the world, I’m in charge, move aside. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Her green eyes shine like twin emeralds, illuminating the grand dining hall.
As her gaze finds mine, I finally recognize her. Kaitlynn. The world stops when she smiles at me.
2
Oliver
“Ollie?” Kaitlynn blinks a couple of times.
I am unable to peel my gaze off her. The last time I saw Kaitlynn, she was waving from the back of her father’s SUV as they drove to the airport. Two days before I left for training. She was going to Paris for the summer. That was twelve years ago.
“Kit Kat,” I find my voice.
“Oh, my God. It is you,” she squeals and runs toward me, flinging her arms around my neck.
“It’s been years.” My heart pounds hard as I lift her, pressing her close to me.
This feels like a welcome home. After so many years being away, I’m finally home. Kaitlynn buries her face in the crook of my neck. I feel her warm breath caressing my skin. That smile, her voice, and her beautiful body all summon forth a well of emotion inside me.
Whoa. I release her, taking a step back.
What’s going on?
I feel it, an imaginary thread pulling me toward her. Some force tugging me with an extraordinary power. As if she’s capturing not only my attention, but my soul.
All my attention is hers, and I can’t tame the instant arousal. It’s like fire cascading through my body. There’s static crackling around us, and electricity flowing through my chest.
What happened to you?
I stare at her beautiful face trying to comprehend who I’m looking at. This woman can’t be the girl I’ve been corresponding with via mail for over a decade.
“A sack of flour exploded on my face?” She touches her dusty hair. “But why are you mumbling?”
“Sorry, I …” I had nothing smart to say.
She glances at me, her green eyes studying me close. Her soft, small hands touching my jaw.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Ollie. I thought I’d never see you again.” She glances around the restaurant. “With your mom gone, I honestly thought that you were done with Knox Ridge.”
“It’s been so long since the last time I saw you,” I agree, unable to take my eyes away from her hypnotic gaze.
“I’ve missed you so much. Nothing’s been the same since you left.” She blows air moving some of the strands gracing her face. “Are you hungry?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m here.”
She claps with excitement. “What are you in the mood for? Wait ... I know what you’d like.”
“Do you now?” I sweep my eyes over her body and wink.
Her lips press together as her gaze narrows. Kaitlynn opens her mouth only to snap it shut right away.
“Yes, I do.” She nods once.
Kaitlynn scans the restaurant and points at the empty booth in the southwest corner. “Take a seat. Let me place the order and bring you some crab cakes.” She leaves, swaying her hips and leaving me stoic. I’m numbed by her beauty.
A server comes by with a glass of sweet tea and a plate of crab cakes as promised. “Miss Blythe will come by in a few minutes,” he announces and leaves.
Fifteen minutes later, she’s back with a full tray of dishes. Tomato bisque, seed crusted grouper, seafood pasta, and fried chicken. I stare at the platters for several seconds. That’s too much food, even for me.
“These look delicious but—”
“Shush,” she says, taking a seat. “I haven’t had lunch either. We’ll share a little of everything. Now, tell me what’s going on with you. How long are you planning to stay in town?”
“I’m not sure.” I grab a clean plate and serve myself a little of everything. “Mom’s husband offered me a job.”
“Selling cars?” She arches an eyebrow. “I can’t see you doing that.”
Me neither.
“Striker Frimston offered me a job too,” I blow out some air.
“That sounds more like something you’d want to do. But you don’t sound too sure about it either.”
As she says that, my body relaxes, and so does my mind. She might have blossomed from a kid sister into an attractive grown woman, but she’s still my friend. I can’t stop staring. She’s so fucking hot.
“When I decided to retire, I didn’t think about what I’d be doing. Now that I’m actually here, it’s too real.”
Kaitlynn reaches for my hand, squeezing it lightly. The gesture is innocent, though her touch sends a spark that travels through my body, zapping my groin. Fuck. My dick’s as hard as granite.
“You’ll need time to adjust,” she continues oblivious to how much she’s affecting me.
“This is good.” I take a bite of the pasta and snatch my hand away from hers grabbing my glass and quenching my thirst with her sweet tea.
Nothing works. I’m still burning for her.
“Enough about me, what are you doing here?”
“Working?” She scrunches her nose, looks around the restaurant and sighs.
“Come on, Kit Kat. I need more than that.”
“Kit Kat,” she says, her lip quivers. “No one’s called me that since Dad died.”
She sits there, eyes downcast and face grief stricken. I reach for her hand, squeezing it carefully.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” I tell her. Should I ask what happened? My mom was never direct about how they died. Just that they did, and it was tragic.
“Thank you,” she says.
She looks up. The spark in her green eyes is gone. All that’s left is a faint trace of where her vibrant soul once lay. A few tears slip down her moon-shaped cheeks. I pull an old handkerchief out of my pocket and hand it to her.
“Sorry,” she says with a weak laugh. “I guess I still miss them.”
Glancing around the restaurant, my chest feels heavy. The Blythes were good people. Nosy and overprotective, sure, but their daughters were their pride and joy.
“They would hate to see me crying like this.” She wipes her face furiously with the handkerchief. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Tell me what’s going on with you,” I offer tentatively. “The last time I heard from you, you were living in Atlanta.”
She stares at the ceiling. “When I was a producer for the show?”
“No, Mom mentioned that you had a job offer to work for the Food Network as a chef. What happened?”
She looks around the restaurant. “Blythe’s happened.”
“Because of your parents?”
“Well, Kelsey took over the restaurant at first. But then she wanted to sell it. The house has been in the family for generations and she wanted to give it to some suit from New York with a five-dollar haircut and six thousand-dollar tie.”
“I can’t imagine anyone else taking this place over,” I say.
She nods, stabbing the food on her plate with a fork. “I couldn’t let her. This was my parents’ dream. Their legacy, Ollie. I couldn’t let go of that.”
“But you were about to make your dream come true,” I insist.
“Well, my dream is this now.” Her voice is marred by resignation.
“Is it?” I ask.
“The army wasn’t everything you ever dreamed of, I’m sure,” she says with a sneer. “Life isn’t some childhood fantasy. You take whatever happens to you. We just gotta deal with it.”
I exhale harshly because I don’t have a dream anymore. However, I’m not bitter like her. Serving roughed me up a bit, sure. But I believe in making a good future, not calling it a day and waiting for life to slowly roll past me. I’m still chasing the sun because every day could be my last.
“You never told me she got married,” I change the subject.
“I thought you were over her?” She gives me a curious glance.
I think about my encounter with Kelsey. The way I felt when I saw her. The tightness in my chest was nothing but anger toward her. I was furious. No, I’m still fucking furious about the way she handled our almost three-year relationship. She treated it like it was just a simple fling that ended once I left after summer vacation.
“It’s been over, but that doesn’t take away the resentment I feel.”
“She was pretty shitty,” Kaitlynn agrees with me. “That’s Kelsey. She doesn’t like confrontation or long-term commitments. I’m still impressed that she’s married.”
“You’re upset with her?” I point out the bitter tone that I heard in between the lines.
“Of course, I am. It was Kelsey’s responsibility to take Blythe’s, but she dumped it on me.”
“So, what happened to the show?”
“It was either the restaurant or my dream.”
She perks up. Her smile widens, and she waves her hand. “But that was a long time ago. This is great. I love it.”
Kaitlynn sounds content, even cheerful. If I didn’t know her, I’d believe her, but I can see behind her façade. I can tell by the way her nose scrunches and her left brow arches that something is bothering her. It bothers me that she’s unhappy; that I can’t do anything to make her feel better.
“Miss Blythe, we need you in the kitchen,” one of her waiters calls to Kaitlynn as they approach the table.
“Thank you, Pete,” she says, then turns toward me. “I hate to eat and run but—”
“It’s getting late for me too.” I pull out my wallet. “Thank you for everything, how much do I owe you?”
“Ollie, you offend me. I invited you to my house to eat.” Then she winks. “But if you ever feel like dining outside you can come over—and pay.”
“The first one is free,” I joke.
“Just promise you’ll come back to visit.”
We rise from our seats, I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “I promise. I’ll be back soon, and maybe we can go out sometime.”
“Of course,” she agrees before walking away.
As I leave the restaurant, I glance toward the kitchen door one last time. It sucks that Kaitlynn didn’t reach for her dream. I wish she had. She always wanted to be like Julia Child. Fucking Kelsey. She’s a selfish woman who doesn’t give a single fuck about who she hurts. But I’m glad Kaitlynn is here. I’ll swing by later, and maybe we can rekindle our friendship. Or should I keep my distance until this attraction I’m feeling is gone? It must be all the years I’ve been away from her or the lack of sex. Maybe keeping my distance is what’s best for both of us.
When I turn on the engine of my car, the image of her beautiful face comes back into my mind. There’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on and can’t get enough of. I want to reach for her, touch her. She’s like the stars: beautiful but unobtainable. And I’ll probably never get close enough to either. Yet ... I’m tempted to try.
3
Kaitlynn
“Why did I let you drag me to class?” I groan as I set up my yoga mat on the floor.
“Because you seemed stressed last night.” Paige, my best friend, says as she rolls her eyes.
“Stress is my middle name,” I remind her.
“I thought it was Hope, but that’s okay. You can be whoever you want.”
Paige has been my best friend since we were in diapers. We understand each other as if we were soul sisters. When she needs me, I’m there for her, and when I need her, she’s always there to lend an ear. Besides being single cat ladies, we both own restaurants. She’s more fun at home binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy with a bottle of wine, but I hate it when she drags me to yoga. I can’t believe she bribed me with her famous chess pie.
“I’d rather be famous than flipping flapjacks all day,” I tell her.
“What do you need to make that happen, honey?”
“Buy my restaurant, that should take all the stress out of my life,” I joke.
“Are you selling it?” She frowns. “After all these years, the hard work and energy you’ve put into that baby. Giving it up now would be such a shame.”
“Seems like all my hard work hasn’t paid off,” I huff. “The staff is always changing, I have a crowd on the weekends, but during the week the place is empty. I’m sure if I build a patio in the back and renovate the place something would change, but …”
“What did Carl say about the renovations?”
“I haven’t called him yet. Maybe selling it would be for the best,” I admit. Dumping more money into that pit seems pointless.
What would my parents think about me giving up their life’s work? It feels like I’m letting the entire Blythe family down, all the way back to my great-grandfather who built the place.
“That’s a drastic move. I couldn’t sell Paige’s.” She slouches.
“Because you love your restaurant,” I remind her.
Paige owns Paige’s SweetCakes. It’s one of the best bakeries in Knox Ridge.
Mom helped her get started and ever since I took ove
r Blythe’s, she’s been my moral support.
“Good morning, ladies and welcome to Yin Yoga class. I’m Aberdeen, and I’ll be your guide for the next sixty minutes.”
↔
After class, my muscles are screaming in agony. I should use them a little more often ... either that or stop letting Paige drag me to these things. After taking a shower, I go from barely feeling my limbs to aching all over as I start to change into my regular clothes. I have to run by the restaurant before the laundry service gets there. Then, I need to start prepping for the Monday night sit down. Every Monday, I close the restaurant to the general public, so I have the morning off and can then feed the less fortunate in our community. There are plenty of families in the area who’ve owned their houses for generations but live on food stamps and work three plus jobs to make ends meet. It’s not much, but everyone deserves a hot meal.
“I’ll help you with the renovations,” Paige offers.
“Then, you’ll buy it?” My heart skips a beat.
If Paige took the restaurant off my hands, I could get back to my real life. My old boss might still take me back.
“No, I won’t,” she says, crushing my dreams. “What would you do after you sold it?”
I have so many ideas, I just don’t know what I’d do first.
“Well, there’s Marcy and Clark,” I say. “Their YouTube channel has millions of followers. Their sponsorship supports them and their annual trips. Maybe I won’t be Rachel Ray or Paula Deen, but I could be like them.”
“Well then, start your YouTube channel, and you can do both,” she argues.
“I could if my kitchen wasn’t outdated and barely working.”
The stove is as old as I am, and I’m pretty sure if the refrigerator were a cat it’d be on its ninth life by now.
“We go back to ‘fix that restaurant.’ Breathe new life into it.” Paige lectures me.
Oh boy, she’s going new age granola on me again.
“C’mon, it’s begging for some TLC. Can’t you hear it? It’s crying ‘save me, Katy. I feel so cold.’”
Cards of Love: Knight of Wands Page 2
