Literally, ever.
Teagan worked a lot, and he had very few friends outside of the kitchen. Those he did have didn’t need to know about a marriage that had ended almost twenty years ago.
He looked at Gwen, pure vulnerability flowing through him and making him swallow. “Caroline Faye,” he said, ready to say her response with her.
The actress?
“The actress?” she asked, and Teagan wanted to roll his eyes. He’d hoped Gwen’s reaction would be different than everyone else’s.
“Yes,” he said, pulling his water glass closer to him so he’d have something to focus on. “We were married for eleven months. She had Abby after the divorce, and I’d already left the state. I was twenty years old.”
And he’d have done so many things differently if he could. But at twenty, he’d done what he’d been capable of at the time, and that wasn’t to go back to a state he hated and be a father.
He watched Gwen, sure she’d make a quip about how he’d abandoned his daughter and demand to know how he could do something like that. At the same time, Gwen wasn’t a cruel person, and maybe Teagan had some unresolved issues that lived inside him that he needed to deal with.
“I’ll bet you missed her,” she said, and Teagan didn’t know what to do with that.
“I did,” he said. “There were so many things I regret missing.” So, so many. But Caroline didn’t really raise Abby either, and Teagan had been sending money for years—not that Caroline needed it.
“You can’t live your whole life with regret,” she said.
“Actually,” Teagan said, though he knew when he started sentences like that, Gwen’s annoyance shot through the roof. “You can. I have.”
“Teagan.” She cocked her head at him as if trying to figure him out, and Teagan loved it. She was so cute, and so kind, and he wished he could explain himself to her in a way that made sense. But, well, it didn’t make sense inside his own mind, so how could she possibly understand?
Their drinks arrived, and Gwen busied herself with unwrapping her straw. “Have you really lived your whole life with regret?”
“Did you hear all the stuff I’ve just told you?” He wasn’t proud of any of it, and not a day went by that he didn’t think of Abby, where he didn’t imagine how different his life would be now if he’d made different decisions then.
“Anyway,” he said when she didn’t answer. “I tell myself I’ve done the best I could. I have a decent relationship with my daughter.” He put his straw in his drink too and took a long pull, the sugary cola calming his nerves immediately. “In fact, Abby was the one who told me to get over myself and call you if I liked you.”
Gwen looked up from her soda, the straw still swirling, swirling, swirling around. She gazed at him, utterly calm as she asked, “And do you? Like me?”
“Yes,” Teagan said. “Yes, I do.”
A smile touched her lips, and Teagan dropped his eyes to her mouth, wondering what it would be like to finally kiss her. That was a step they’d never taken last time they were together, and in fact, he’d broken up with her on the very night he should’ve kissed her.
Walked her right up to her front door—and said, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” when he should’ve pressed her into the door and kissed her like she was his.
“Good,” she said. “Because I kinda like you, too.”
Chapter Five
Gwen could not believe she’d just told Teagan right to his face that she liked him. She’d spent the last six months pretending like she didn’t. Worse, even. Pretending like she actually disliked him.
“Pepperoni with olives,” the waitress said. “Low Country Greens.” She set the two pizzas down, and the tension between her and Teagan broke.
She admired her pizza, and then his, and said, “We should do something like this for events.”
“No work talk,” he said, picking up a piece of his pizza. “That was a rule last time, and I actually really liked it.”
Gwen hadn’t, but she didn’t argue. “Okay,” she said, because yeah, maybe she didn’t need to talk about work all the time. But she enjoyed talking about it with Teagan, because he was her equal. He knew as much as she did about The Heartwood Inn kitchens, the workload, the burden, the joy, the fun. His skills in the kitchen were only matched by hers, and she wanted to share that with him.
“I would like to cook with you again,” he said, and he took a bite of his pizza.
Pure heat flowed through Gwen’s veins like lava moving down a volcano. “All right,” she said as coolly as she could.
“Your place?” he asked. “Sunday afternoon?”
“You’re going to take my Sunday afternoon nap from me?” she teased.
He simply grinned at her, took another bite of his pizza, and waited.
Gwen made him wait too, and then she finally said, “And I think your place would be better. Celeste will ask too many questions, and she doesn’t work on Sundays.”
“My place it is,” he said, running one hand through that delicious long hair that Gwen really wanted to fist in her fingers as she kissed him.
She couldn’t believe she was already thinking about kissing him. But truth be told, she’d been thinking about it for months and months, because she’d never actually done it. They’d been close last time, and Gwen really hoped something else didn’t come up to drive Teagan away again. She wasn’t sure her heart could stand the turmoil, the up and down, the yes and then no.
After all, she knew what it felt like to live with a broken heart, and she didn’t want to spend her life doing that.
That night in the kitchen, the atmosphere was completely different. Everyone felt it, and Gordon looked between Gwen and Teagan like he knew they’d been out that afternoon. Shared a bit of their lives with each other. Made another date. Held hands in the car and then on the walk up to her front door.
She hadn’t lingered on the porch for a kiss, because her anxiety over what had happened last time on that porch had practically shoved her into the house. Celeste hadn’t been home—not surprising—and Gwen had showered and actually put a little bit of makeup on before returning to the inn.
She wasn’t sure why she’d done that. She felt like everyone was staring at her while Teagan went over the menu for that evening, set the specials with the waitresses, and assigned stations.
Gwen didn’t normally stay for the entire dinner service. Some nights, she put on posh clothes and walked the dining room floor with Bea, her front-of-house manager. She chatted with guests and helped clean tables and watched their seating procedures.
She almost always left by eight or nine, retreating back to the house on the beach and the screened-in porch, where she usually fell asleep until Celeste came to wake her. Of course, Celeste had been staying out later and later with her new boyfriend, and their system had been working well.
Some nights—like tonight—Gwen would tie an apron around her waist and make sure Teagan knew she wanted to cook. She hadn’t spent years in New York City at one of the best culinary institutes in the country to oversee meal prep.
“Gwen,” he said, drawing her out of her mind. “You’re on desserts.”
She nodded, though she also inwardly groaned. The dessert station meant she would be here all night long, right up until the restaurant closed so she could serve the last customer the chocolate mousse they wanted.
At the same time, a measure of excitement moved through her. She and Teagan would be here late tonight, and she turned away from him as the meeting broke up before he could see her smile. Maybe he’d send everyone else home quickly, and she could kiss him in the kitchen.
Nope, she told herself as she moved over to the dessert station with a talented pastry chef named Lauren Mitchell. The two women nodded to each other, and Lauren put the one-sheet of desserts for that night’s menu on the counter in front of them.
They were offering four selections that night, including drunk peach pie—which Gwen wa
nted a piece of right that moment—chocolate tuxedo cake with ganache and a dark chocolate mousse, a caramel blondie with peach ice cream, and a raspberry souffle. The last one would be the hardest, so Gwen didn’t argue when Lauren said, “I’ll take the souffles and the blondies, if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely fine,” she said. The peach pie was easy. Slice, plate, sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. The tuxedo cake was more involved, simply because of the canneles she’d need to make for the mousse. She surveyed the prep station in front of her, went into the refrigeration unit specifically for desserts and noted how many servings of each item they had, and had just returned to the kitchen when Teagan said, “All right, everyone. First order is in.” He read off a tablet propped in front of him. “Dessert first for table thirteen. Tuxedo cake and raspberry souffle.”
“Yes, chef,” Gwen and Lauren recited back to him simultaneously, and they were off the ground and running already.
“Fire scallops and bruschetta,” he said to the appetizer team. “And we’ve got two specials.”
The kitchen moved like the well-oiled machine it had become, and Gwen couldn’t help the tingle of excitement moving through her. There was nothing as amazing as working in a five-star kitchen, with a chef who knew how to get the results he wanted with the food and still maintain friendships with his chefs.
The dinner service passed quickly, much to Gwen’s surprise. She felt like she should be exhausted, but as she started combining chocolate sauces into one bottle so the rest could be washed, she felt alive and ready for the next thing the night held.
“You can go, Lauren,” Teagan said, and Gwen used every ounce of her self-control not to look up. “Thanks for a great night.”
Lauren said something to him too, but Gwen didn’t hear what. She was maybe five minutes away from being finished and cleaned up too, and she capped the chocolate sauce just as the kitchen door slammed.
“Almost done?” Teagan asked, turning toward her.
“Yes, chef,” she said. “Just a few more dishes.”
He chuckled, the deep, sexy sound of it making Gwen’s cheeks flame as she walked into the fridge and put her chocolate sauce away. She took a deep breath. Teagan had been brave to text her and tell her things he hadn’t wanted to tell her before. In fact, he’d said things that had caused him to break up with her before.
“You want to kiss him,” she said, starting to get a chill in the refrigeration unit. “So just do it.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted her first kiss with the man to happen in the industrial kitchen at the inn or not. It wasn’t a terribly romantic spot, what with all the glinting steel, scent of onions hanging in the air, and the bright fluorescent lights.
She felt sweaty and sticky, and her chef’s jacket didn’t make her feel desirable or sexy. She loosened the buttons and let it hang open before returning to the kitchen.
Teagan had finished wiping down her station for her, his jacket gone completely. He wore a blue T-shirt that seemed fresh from the dryer, and he really was the most breathtaking man Gwen had ever laid eyes on.
“Done,” he said, smiling at her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m definitely going to need a nap tomorrow.”
“Me too,” he said. “Because we have to be back here in six hours.”
A sigh passed through Gwen as she thought of it, and she groaned. “Don’t remind me.” She approached him, her heartbeat turning into booms in her chest. He received her easily and willingly into his arms, and once again, Gwen felt anything but tired.
“It was a good service,” she said, immediately regretting the words.
“Yeah.” He played with the end of her ponytail, which sent shivers down her back and across her shoulders.
She looked up at him, making a quick decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. Tipping up onto her toes, she closed her eyes and brushed her mouth against his.
“Oh.” He flinched away from her, clearly surprised.
“Sorry,” she muttered, pure humiliation pulling through her.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, one hand sliding behind her neck and bringing her closer again. He kissed her then, a sensual, slow kiss that felt like he’d been thinking about kissing her for six months too.
He held her in place, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her, until the heat in Gwen’s body screamed at her to take a breath, pull away, cool down.
She didn’t, because kissing Teagan in real life was so much better than even her fantasies had imagined.
Chapter Six
Teagan could not stop kissing Gwen Heartwood. Her lips were full and smooth and utterly delicious, almost like she’d swiped a bit of that chocolate sauce on them before coming out of the refrigeration unit.
He knew he was holding her too close. Kissing her too deeply and too long. Showing too much of how he felt.
He simply didn’t care. He’d wanted this woman for as long as he could remember, and he’d finally gotten out of his own way enough to have a shot with her. She had her hands in his hair, and then along the sides of his face, and then clutching his shoulders like she might fall without having something to anchor herself to.
He threaded his hands through her hair, moving one down her back to her waist, where he pressed her closer to him. She couldn’t get close enough.
He wasn’t sure if she broke the connection or he did, but the kiss ended, leaving him wanting more though he’d certainly taken enough from her. His ragged breathing matched hers, thankfully, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder for a moment.
“Wow,” she whispered, and Teagan couldn’t have articulated anything better.
Gwen looked up at him, those blue eyes wide and open and vulnerable. Teagan didn’t try to mask anything, maybe for the first time in his life. He simply let her look at him while he looked back at her.
He was tired from head to toe, but a new electricity zipped through his muscles, giving him a second wind. Or maybe a third wind. Sometime around the middle of dinner service, a wave of exhaustion had hit him. He’d left the kitchen for several minutes, asking Gordon to take over for him.
The other man had, of course, and the kitchen ran just fine under Gordon’s hand. He’d watched the waves for a few minutes as the sun set behind the inn, and he’d yanked on the rejuvenation he needed to make it through the rest of the night.
But kissing Gwen had probably just ensured he wouldn’t sleep that night.
“We should go,” she finally said, and Teagan blinked.
“Yeah, just one more thing first.” He dipped his head and kissed her again, because just as he’d suspected, kissing Gwen Heartwood was life-changing, and he wanted to do it again and again and again.
Sunday morning found Teagan leaving the inn at the same time he did every day. He would not be napping today, because Gwen was coming over. He’d seen her at work, of course, but he hadn’t really been alone with her since the kiss on Friday night.
Fine, yesterday she’d called him into her office “to chat,” but she’d said nothing before kissing him. He really liked that she seemed to be thinking about him as much as he did her, and she’d said, “We’re still cooking together tomorrow, right?” as he held her close.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
And now that time had come. He swung by the grocery store to get the ingredients he wanted for the noodle soup he had in mind. Yes, it was still very much summer on the island of Carter’s Cove, but he loved oriental soups, and he knew Gwen did too.
A sense of comfort descended on him as he placed item after item in his shopping cart. He hadn’t felt this…peaceful in months. Years. Maybe ever. Teagan always felt like he was running from something, hiding something, boxing something up tight so he didn’t have to think about it. Explain it.
But he’d told Gwen about his former marriage and daughter and she hadn’t judged him. She’d said very little about it, actually, and Teagan wasn’t sure what to make of it. Surely, she had feelings about the man he’d been.
/> Or maybe she just wants to know about that man, and the one you are now.
Teagan paused, the thought moving through his head slowly again. He wasn’t the same man he’d been twenty years ago when he’d met Caroline Faye. Or the same person he’d been when he’d left. Or even the same man he’d been a few days ago.
That was Teagan Hatch, the man who was afraid of losing what he didn’t even have yet. And now that he had Gwen in his life, he wanted to keep her there.
He turned the corner, the ice cream aisle spreading before him. He loved sweets, but he wanted them to be balanced. The local grocery store here made a variety of specialty ice creams, and he paused to carefully consider them.
In the end, he selected green tea ice cream and pistachio, thinking they’d both pair well with the soup on his menu. At home, he unloaded everything and opened the back door to let in the breeze. He didn’t live on the beach or even that close to it, but he supposed everywhere on Carter’s Cove could be considered near the beach.
His apartment was on the top floor of the tallest building the island City Council would approve. Eight stories, and he had a great view of the east and west coastlines. On a clear day, he could see the mainland from his front porch, and if he opened his bathroom window, he had a perfect view of the lighthouse.
He spent very little time at home, but he did enjoy his space. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned, so he quickly wiped down the guest bathroom and had just gotten all of the groceries put away when Gwen knocked on his front door.
His pulse bobbed in the back of his throat, and any thoughts of changing his clothes real quick flew from his mind. Hurrying to the door, he told himself to calm down. Act cool. Be normal.
Problem was, he wasn’t sure what Gwen’s definition of normal was.
She stood on his front porch, her arms full of three bags of groceries. “Whoa,” he said instead of hello. “Let me help you.” He reached for the bags, and she willingly passed over two of them.
She Loves Him...Not Page 3
