The Beard (Haylee Thorne)

by Haylee Thorne

  “It looks incredible in here, and if the smells in the kitchen are any indication, you will blow their minds.”

  I look up at him and smile. Brock and I have become close over the past few weeks. Pretending to be a couple in love has forced us to get to know each other quickly. I loudly clear my throat.

  “May I please have everyone’s attention?” I say, loud enough to be heard over the chatter in the room.

  My cheeks redden as every single person in the room fixes their eyes on me.

  “If everyone would be so kind as to take their place at their assigned seats, we are about to get started!”

  I smile to the crowd and wait a few beats before I continue.

  “We want to thank everyone for coming today. I know you all have very busy schedules and made the time to be here, so thank you,” I say as I look around the room. “Now, I hope that you’ll all enjoy the food prepared for you today, but I need total honesty. There is a card atop every plate, so if there is a dish you do not like, please tell us and why. Every table will have different meals. For those of you who have food allergies or certain dislikes, those were taken into consideration when we placed you at a table. If you have any concerns, please let me know.”

  The servers all start coming out, right on cue. Amber has coached them perfectly; I knew she was the right woman for the job. I look over at Gigi and see her beaming with pride. I think she really has accepted me as part of the family, and while that has always been our goal, I feel bad. I want to include her in today’s celebration, so I make a last-minute decision.

  “Now, before we get to start to dig in, I would like ask Gigi to lead us in prayer.”

  I watch her rise to her feet and smile brightly. She is in her element; the woman seems comfortable speaking to a crowd, and I know for a fact that she loves her some Jesus. Every person present in the restaurant closes their eyes and bows their heads. Gigi says a prayer, and when she closes her prayer with amen, the sentiment echoes throughout the room.

  “Without further ado, please enjoy your meals.”

  Applause breaks out, and I cannot help the smile that brightens my face. Brock pulls me against him and squeezes my arm. We look at each other, and he flashes me his pearly whites as he pulls out my chair. I sit down and give him a grateful look. The servers start to deliver the food, and I scan the room for everyone’s reactions. My gaze keeps being pulled toward Ashton, who is in deep conversation with Mikaela. I don’t like it, not one bit. When he smiles at her, bile rises in my throat and an irrational anger toward Mikaela awakens. Ashton looks my way and raises a brow. I’m being ridiculous. I have zero claim on that man, and I like her. Mikaela is one of the sweetest and funniest people I have met in a long time. A tap on my shoulder forces me to turn away. It’s a food critic I invited, raving about the food and we talk for a few moments before she heads back to her table just as the servers start to bring dessert. Brock leans in.

  “I think you’ve pulled it off, wifey,” Brock mutters in my ear.

  I smile at him, genuinely pleased.

  “We haven’t read any of the comment cards yet, but so far everyone is cleaning their plates.”

  “Have you tasted this?” he says as he takes another bite of his dessert. “It’s incredible.”

  “Hi, Mackenzie?”

  I turn around and find Faye Blah standing next to me.

  “Oh, hi!” I say, a bit surprised.

  “I know you are really busy, but I was hoping we could have a quick word?” she says as she nervously scans the room.

  She definitely has my attention.

  “Sure,” I tell her. “Follow me.”

  I turn to Brock, who is deep in conversation with one of the food critics. I excuse myself and lead Faye toward my office.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says again as we make our way through the crowd. “But my boss is asking a lot of…” her voice trails off, and her eyes bug out as I open the door and step into my office.

  I look at her, confused for a split second.

  “Ladies.”

  Ashton’s voice startles me half to death, and I grab my chest.

  “Oh, Ashton. You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing in here?”

  “Sorry, I had to take a phone call, and it was loud out there. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, um. No, of course not,” I stammer.

  He smiles, almost awkwardly.

  “That call was very important, and I have to leave. Can you find your way back, Faye?”

  She nods.

  “Yes, Mr. Walker.”

  “Good,” he grumbles.

  He walks toward me and kisses my cheek.

  “Thank you for lunch. It was incredible, as always.”

  I want to tell him that he’s welcome, but I am flabbergasted, completely rendered silent by a simple brush of his lips against my cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response as he turns on his heel and stalks out.

  Faye lets out a breath, and I snap out of it.

  “Oh, my god,” she whispers. “That was close.”

  I raise my brow.

  “What’s going on, Faye?”

  She rakes a hand through her hair.

  “Ashton is asking questions about how we know each other, and I don’t know what to tell him. I know you don’t owe me anything, and when we told him that lie, I didn’t know you were engaged to his brother. I...” she sighs again. “I just don’t want to lose my job.”

  Clearly, she wasn’t counting on ever having to see me again after that first night. And to be fair, neither had I. I smile at her.

  “You have nothing to worry about. I won’t say a word, I promise. Honestly, that night I wasn’t engaged yet, and I hadn’t met Brock’s family, so I had no idea Ashton was his brother.”

  Her brow furrows, and I chuckle.

  “It’s weird, I know, but Brock and I have kept our relationship very private. We are private people,” I lie smoothly.

  Clearly relieved, Faye thanks me once more and leaves. Once she closes the door behind her, I sag into my desk chair. I can’t believe a little kiss on the cheek has me off-kilter.

  “Great,” I mutter out loud. “What am I going to do about this?”

  The tasting, a little less than a week ago, was a great success. The consensus was unanimous: everyone loved the food. We still have a little bit of time before the grand opening and some details to iron out, but all in all, I am pretty happy. Today, Brock and I are going to a few local vineyards to try and decide on the house wines. I am meeting him at his office since he had a meeting he couldn’t get out of. It is pretty nice out today, so I’m rocking a sundress and really cute wedges. I’ve even put in some effort with my hair and slapped on some makeup. We hired a driver for the day so we can drink and not worry about having to drive. I am more than ready for some wine tasting.

  I take a cab into Manhattan and head to Walker Inc. The high-rise that houses the company is grand and extravagant, so much so that I almost feel underdressed when I walk in. After a lukewarm greeting at the reception desk, that changes into an over the top game of ass-kissing when the girl finds out who I am, I make my way up the elevators and head to the thirty-eighth floor. When I arrive, I am greeted by a very attractive Asian girl who introduces herself as May, Brock’s assistant. He surrounds himself with a lot of beautiful females, and I find myself wondering if that is on purpose. She politely asks me to follow her, and I oblige. We walk to his office and find the door closed. May knocks, waits a beat, and then opens the door. Brock, who is talking on the phone, smiles brightly when he sees me. He holds up a finger to indicate he will be just be a moment. I return his smile and take a seat in the chair across from his desk. He hangs up just a few minutes later.

  “So sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I wish I could tell you I am done for the day, but it turns out I am needed here, so I won’t be able to go with you today.”

  “Oh, well, I have to admit I am a little disappointed, but of
course your job comes first. I totally get that.”

  Brock rises and buttons his suit jacket.

  “I’m glad you understand. Luckily though, I have found you a great replacement.”

  “You have?”

  “Pffft, great. The perfect replacement, you mean.”

  I turn my head to look at him.

  Oh crap, I think to myself

  “Ready to go taste some wine, Mac?”

  Clearly, it is a bad idea to put myself in a situation in which alcohol and insane, unexplainable attraction are in the mix. But I don’t see any way around it. What am I gonna say? No, I don’t want to take your brother up on his kind offer to take your place because I am afraid I won’t be able to hide the fact that just last night I dreamt about ripping his clothes off? At some point, I am going to have to learn how to deal with spending time with Ashton, and I decide that there is no day like today.

  I plaster a smile on my face, and as gracefully as I can muster up, accept the offer. Twenty minutes later, we are sitting in the back of a town car headed to the first winery. The wraparound leather seat feels cool as I sit down and is a welcome distraction from my own thoughts. I fidget with the skirt of my dress and stare out the window as we drive off. I don’t relish the idea of being in a place this small and this close to him. I breathe in the clean, earthy scent of his cologne. I have no idea what to say. There are two modes for me when I feel like this: I either shutdown, like right now, or I won’t stop talking. Luckily for me, Ashton is the first to break the ice.

  “So, wine country for us then,” he says with a smile. I love wine, so this works out well for me. Wine and brownie points. Whoo!” he says as he fist-pumps the air.

  I can’t help it, I start laughing.

  “Ah, there she is,” he says, clearly pleased with himself. “I know I am not the brother you signed up for, but I promise we will have a great time.”

  I smile at him; he’s actually quite sweet. I watch, mesmerized, as Ashton starts to undo his tie, pull it from his neck, and then undoes a couple of buttons. My heart is beating out of control as flashbacks of last night’s dream flicker through my brain. He neatly rolls the tie up and then sheepishly looks around for a place to put it.

  “Here,” I tell him as I hold out my hand. “I’ll keep it in my purse.”

  He hands over his tie, no questions asked. He sits back, now clearly more relaxed. It is kind of adorable.

  “Feel better now?”

  “Much,” he says with a wide grin. “It’s nice to be able to relax. I’ve been working nonstop lately.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say as I dramatically roll my eyes. “I think this is the first time I have worn non-work related clothing in,” I pause and take a second to think. “Well, it’s been a bit because I can’t remember.”

  Ashton’s eyes roam over me.

  “Well, you always look beautiful, no matter what you wear.”

  I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I’m unsure what to say, so I just smile and mutter an embarrassed thank you.

  The rest of the ride is filled with every small talk topic you can conceive of. We cover everything from the weather and movies to work and hobbies.

  While it started off awkward, by the time we reach the first winery, the atmosphere between us is comfortable. I actually learned quite a bit about him.

  Ashton climbs out of the vehicle first and offers me his hand. I take it and let him help me step out. It’s beautiful out here; it smells like fresh air, grapes, and sunshine. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear wind chimes, and it reminds me of my grandma’s house. Growing up, I used to love to sit on her wraparound porch and drink lemonade while listening to the wind play with the chimes. I remember sitting there for hours just listening and staring into the distance.

  We are greeted by a young staff member who doesn’t seem very happy to be working. Ashton and I exchange an amused look.

  “Dear God, we had to get stuck with emo Eeyore,” I joke.

  Ashton covers his mouth and chuckles.

  We get the tour of the place, and then Mr. “I hate my life” takes us to the tasting room. There, we are greeted by the master sommelier who introduces himself as Gabriel LaRoux. He reminds me of Inspector Gadget with a French accent since he’s tall, lean, and has a large, prominent nose.

  “Come in, come in,” he tells us. “You can take a seat right here.”

  His accent makes me smile.

  I look around the room and admire the wooden paneling that covers the entire room from wall to ceiling. There are barrels everywhere; some are used for wine and placed against the walls, and some are used as tall tables with bar stools around them. The wood theme is broken up by windows with stained glass inserts, the colorful lights dancing on the walls as they are brought to life by the sunlight.

  Ashton and I sit down as directed and listen intently to the presentation given to us. We are told we will be starting with the white and lighter wines before venturing to the heavier and bolder reds, with the sweetest wines being saved for last. I watch as Ashton places the glass Gabriel poured on the table and grasps the stem as he swirls. He inhales deeply before he takes some in his mouth, taking his time to swish the liquid around before finally using the spittoon to spit out some of the wine. It’s not hard to deduce he has done this before. Ashton Walker is a man of many talents, so I’m not sure why his expertise in wine tasting surprises me. I am sure this is why Brock thought he’d be a good replacement.

  “Show off,” I tell him as I playfully nudge him in the side with my elbow.

  He smiles sheepishly.

  “I’m kidding, of course. I am totally impressed. You seem to know your way around a wine bottle.”

  “Told you I would be a better replacement,” he says with a wink.

  We continue to taste more wine, finding some we like, and order a few cases. We slide back into the waiting car and head to winery number two. We share stories of our previous wine tasting experiences, and conversation flows easily into us sharing college day mischief. I’m actually a little disappointed when we arrive. This time, we aren’t greeted at the car and just stroll inside. It seems to be a more laid-back setting than the previous winery, and a little more traditional as well. We walk to the counter and approach the man behind it. He seems preoccupied with the paper he is reading and doesn’t see us coming.

  “Hello,” I say with a friendly smile. “We have an appointment for a tasting.”

  The man looks up from his paper.

  “Ah, yes,” he says as he put the paper down. “Ms. Hart? Take the stairs at the end of the hall. It leads to the wine cellar.”

  We thank the man and head down the hall until we reach a large spiral staircase. It’s beautiful, regal, and looks like a total deathtrap.

  “I’ll go first,” Ashton offers. “That way I can catch you if your clumsiness rears its ugly head,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Hey! I didn’t tell you about my Calamity Jane history so you could tease me, you know,” I say, feigning annoyance.

  He chuckles and starts the descent into the cellar. I follow him closely, paying great attention not to fall. These wedges look great, but I am rethinking the practicality aspect that I hadn’t considered until now. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, it is pitch-black. The only light is the one coming from the hallway above, and even that is dimmed. Alarm bells inside my head start blaring as we venture a little farther down the hall. I reach in front of me, trying to avoid walking into anything. Ashton’s hand curls around mine, and I think my heart is about to beat its way out of my chest cavity. I am almost one hundred percent sure that he can hear it beat because even I can hear it.

  “Hello?” I call out. “Anyone there?”

  I do not like cramped spaces, especially when I can’t see. Panic seizes me by the throat. My breathing starts to become shallow, bursting in and out of my lungs at a rapid pace.

  “Mac? Are you okay?”

  I can’t seem to find my voice so I
nod, but it is dark and he can’t see me. I try to move, but fear has crippled me. I find myself unable to move.

  “Hey, answer me,” he says with some urgency in his tone.

  I feel tears burning at my eyelids, begging to be released, but I am trying so hard not to let them out.

  He pulls me against his body, and I inhale his scent. I allow myself to melt into him, needing him as close to me as possible.

  “Shhh,” he whispers against my hair. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.”

  Every inch of me trembles when he strokes my hair ever so gently, leans in, and kisses my forehead. Then he pecks my cheek, which causes my knees to buckle. I close my eyes and find myself grabbing on to him more tightly. His lips brush the corner of my mouth, and I gasp. I am overwhelmed with need so strong that it overtakes my fear. I hold my breath, waiting and wanting him to kiss me.

  Suddenly, light floods the hallway and brings reality with it as the door on the other end of it swings open. Our eyes snap up, and lock together. We both have a startled look on our faces. I can’t believe we almost kissed, or even worse, that I wish we had. He releases me, and I take a few steps backward.

  “I…I’m so sorry,” I stammer.

  Tears are streaming down my face, and I try to wipe them with the back of my hand. Ashton’s facial features are marred with grave concern.

  “You can add crippling claustrophobia to the list of Mackenzie’s quirks,” I say in an attempt to lighten the mood.