by Olivia Miles
That it was. Luke had suffered. Greatly. He deserved this happiness. Everyone does.
“Luke and Grace were meant to find their way back to each other. I’m glad it worked out for them.” He chopped the onion over and over until it was more of a mince than the course chop he had intended. Damn it. He slid it to the side and plucked another from the bowl.
“It makes me feel optimistic,” Anna said. “If they found their way back to each other, then there’s hope for us all, right?”
They locked eyes. Anna blinked slowly, the black lashes that rimmed those turquoise blue irises fluttering. In the heat of the kitchen, her cheeks glowed with pink nearly as rosy as her mouth.
His gut stirred with desire, tightening with longing he wasn’t sure he could resist. But even if he dared to try, stepped outside his comfort zone and reached for her, would she let him back in? He wasn’t so sure of it. They’d come a long way in recent weeks, further than he’d thought they ever could, but that didn’t mean she’d forgiven him. And it didn’t mean he was ready for anything more.
Her lips curved into a smile and her eyes disappeared behind those lashes as she returned to her task. He watched her for a second longer, fighting the weight in his chest. She could be his friend again maybe, and maybe that could be enough this time. It had meant something once—enough for him to take the leap, to think it would be enough to last, to give him the guarantee he needed.
Instead, it had only scared him more than ever.
“Guess we’ll have to take tonight off from recipe testing for the engagement party,” he said. The disappointment that gnawed at him quickly disappeared when he imagined Anna in some sexy little number. “Hard to believe the contest is a week away. Maybe we can get an early start on the recipes tomorrow to make up the time.”
Anna hesitated. “Mind if we meet a little later, actually? Is nine too late?”
His smile faltered, but he hid his surprise with a low laugh. “You got some hot date or something?”
He’d meant it as a joke, but the blush that colored her cheeks hit him square in the gut. She didn’t look at him as she muttered, “Something like that.”
His hands were on autopilot, scoring the flesh of another onion. The blade worked in even strokes, but his mind was spinning. “Anyone I know?”
Anna sprinkled her work surface with flour before transferring the dough from its bowl. “Perhaps.” She glanced up at him. “Your aunt is playing matchmaker. She has someone in mind.”
Rosemary loved to meddle. She was forever hinting that he needed the love of a good woman, and that he couldn’t hold out forever.
“Well.” He forced a tight smile. “Lucky guy.”
Anna’s hands froze on the dough she’d been working for a split second, but he didn’t regret his words. Let her take from them what she would—let her spear him with a hard look, rattle off a caustic remark. Let her say all the things he felt. Let her voice his worst fears.
Yes, this guy was lucky, damn it. Yes, this guy would be smart enough to treat her better than he had. Was he a hypocrite to want the very same thing he dreaded?
“You know, why don’t we just skip tomorrow night?” His voice was sharper than he intended, and she snapped her gaze to him, confusion knitting her fine brow. Or perhaps—he pressed his mouth firmly—perhaps it was hurt. He cracked an egg for a quiche. “We’ve been tweaking these recipes all week. A couple nights off might be just what we need to take a step back and reassess.”
Oh, he’d be reassessing all right. And getting a firm grip. Come Sunday at this time, he’d have a clear head on his shoulders, the one he’d boasted—with the exception of that one little hiccup that last summer of school—since the day his dad had walked out, never to return.
Anna set the scones in the oven and set the timer. “If you think that’s best.”
He ignored the hint of sadness in her tone. “Yeah,” he said, cracking another egg, and another. He whisked in some salt and pepper, a splash of heavy cream. “We’ve been working hard. A break will be good.” A break was always the answer. When things got too tense, too serious, the best thing was a little distance.
He finished the quiche in silence and slid it into one of the ovens. From the corner of his eye, he could see Anna watching him from her position at the center counter, each step of her task seeming slower and more deliberate than usual.
“I’ve got some paperwork to go through,” he said brusquely, motioning to his office just off the back of the kitchen.
He bolted through the door, closing it firmly behind him, and threw himself into his chair. Anna was going on a date, and his aunt was the one behind it all. It felt like a betrayal, like some sick, twisted irony, even though Rosemary of course didn’t know. She couldn’t. As far as he knew, Anna had never told anyone what had happened between them that summer and neither had he. By the time they’d returned to Briar Creek after each of their graduations, it was over, and he surely would have had an earful if Anna had let anything slip. That time had been theirs, their secret, their haven, and when it was gone…
Anna changed. She hardened. She didn’t share, and she didn’t let people get close. And now, after all these years, the walls were finally coming down. She was letting him back in, and he had a sinking feeling it was because only now, after all this time, the thing he’d feared the most had happened. She was over him.
CHAPTER
17
Anna could honestly say that Grace had never looked prettier. Standing near the hearth in a black sweetheart-neck cocktail dress, she glowed brighter than the ring on her finger as she stared up at Luke and gently kissed him, eliciting a chorus of cheers from the crowd that had gathered in the Madison home.
Anna chased the lump from her throat with a sip of champagne. She was getting swept up in the beauty of the affair, in her sister’s contagious smile, and, maybe, in the twinge of sadness that their father couldn’t be with them tonight.
“Dad would have loved this,” she said wistfully to Jane, who stood with her at the back of the living room.
Jane tipped her head into a strained smile. “He’s here right now. You know he wouldn’t miss this.”
Anna blinked quickly. Luke had been like a son to their father, and Grace was his golden girl. He’d been so proud of the books she’d had published, but Anna knew deep down this was what he wanted most for her. To love and to be loved.
It’s what he wanted for them all.
“As much as I miss him, I’m glad he wasn’t here to see how I ended up,” Jane said with a frown.
“You’ll find love again, Jane. Just give it time.” Anna paused at her words, wishing she could take her own advice and knowing she couldn’t. She was already dreading her date tomorrow night. What had she been thinking, asking Rosemary to set her up? She didn’t want to put her heart out there any more than she wanted to share a future with anyone. She was good on her own. Things had been okay for the past few years; these last few weeks had just been a setback. Before long, she’d be back into her routine, busy, and happy. Well, almost happy.
Jane glanced around the room and took another sip from her champagne flute. “Well, there’s no one of interest here tonight. I feel a little embarrassed admitting I’d sort of hoped there would be.”
Anna returned her wry smile. “Briar Creek is rather limited when it comes to romantic options.”
“Not for some.” Jane jutted her chin and Anna turned to follow her gaze, wishing she hadn’t when she locked eyes with Mark standing in the arched entrance to the front hall.
She hadn’t seen him come in, even though her eyes had darted the room for the better part of Luke’s toast, but there he stood, tall and dark with his hair tousled, reminding her of the way he looked when he hovered over her, bare chested and warm on the cool wet sand, his lips parting for a kiss. His eyes were deep and hooded, in contrast with the easy grin he wore, and on his arm was none other than Nicole Johnson, giggling and flushed.
Anna’s eyes
narrowed as she turned away. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure Jane could hear it, and her hand trembled as she brought the glass to her lips, gulping the last of her drink.
It took a special kind of fool to fall for the same trick twice, and yet she had. She knew it now, by the ache in her chest—she’d fallen. Hard and fast, and against her better judgment, just like she had all those years ago. She had been charmed by that grin, so slick and self-assured; warmed by that laughter, so rich and elusive; and seduced by the depths of those eyes, so dark and unreadable. He’d put her at ease, showed her kindness she had long forgotten, and reminded her of how easy it was to just be with him. She’d made herself believe she was over him, that she was ready to move on, that someone else could elicit that heat only he seemed capable of unleashing.
She was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Her gut knew it, but her heart had won out.
“Is the food in the dining room?” she asked, even though she knew full well that it was. She’d personally prepared each bacon-wrapped date, crab cake, and goat cheese tartlet. She may as well enjoy them, though something told her, as she edged out of the living room and farther from Mark, that even the taste of her Gruyère-stuffed puffed pastry couldn’t lift her spirits now.
Rosemary was already at the dining table, helping herself to a wedge of the mushroom-stuffed Brie en croute. “My, isn’t this impressive, Anna. Is this on your menu at Fireside?”
Anna nodded. “It’s part of our weekend dinner menu.”
Rosemary brought a smoked salmon and herbed cream cheese canapé to her lips. The flutter of her lashes forced a reluctant smile from Anna. “Have you ever considered adding more dinner shifts?” she inquired, snatching another canapé from the platter.
She surveyed the spread impassively, finding herself unable to make a decision. “I have,” she confessed, adding a roasted vegetable empanada to her plate. “I was waiting until things settled down with the Annex first. Then with the fire…”
“Well, no better time to kick off your full dinner service than with your grand reopening,” Rosemary said.
Wouldn’t that be nice? As Anna had suspected, no one had expressed interest in the former stationery shop yet. It was just there for the taking, and oh, how she wanted it.
“Thinking of expanding your services, are you?”
Anna spun around to see Mark standing behind her. His grin split his face, but his eyes were a notch darker than usual.
She pursed her lips and turned her head, adjusting the strap on the aubergine-colored dress she’d found in the back of her closet.
“Mark, have you seen this? Anna did it all.” Rosemary beamed, letting her gaze roam over the table. “But then, I suppose you’re already fully aware of all of Anna’s merits.”
“She certainly is a wonderful chef.” Mark’s hand grazed her fingers as he reached for a plate, sending a shiver down her spine. She sidestepped, hoping to gain distance, but Rosemary inched forward, just enough to block her path.
“I must get the recipe for this olive bread, Anna,” she said.
Anna nodded politely and darted her eyes over the room. Jane was helping Sophie select a pink-glazed petit four from the tiered dessert tray. No matter how relentlessly Anna’s gaze bore into her, she didn’t detect it, and finally, Anna gave up.
“So, Aunt Rosemary,” Mark said as he turned to join their group. Anna gritted her teeth, feeling mocked and angered. There was a decided glint in his eyes. A smirk curled that full mouth. He was goading her, baiting her, and he was enjoying it, too. “I hear you’ve found a match for Anna.”
Heat burned her cheeks as she glared at him, but if he noticed he didn’t react. He crammed a mini quiche into his mouth and chewed, daring to tip his head in consideration when he’d finished.
The bastard.
“Oh, I most certainly have.” Rosemary gave a knowing smile. “I know just the man for her.”
Anna cast a withering glance at Mark to find his jaw had set. He stopped chewing a parmesan breadstick for a beat and then resumed. “Well, good. You’ll make some lucky fellow really happy one day.”
“Indeed she will!” With that, Rosemary grabbed one last tartlet from a tray, turned on her heel, and walked through the arched doorway to Anna’s mother, who was chatting with a few neighbors in the front hall.
Anna could feel the blood coursing through her veins. Mark’s eyes sparked with challenge, but his mouth was a grim line. “I see Nicole’s a glutton for punishment,” she offered, hastily adding more food to her plate.
Mark shrugged. “I think she’s having fun.”
“Someone ought to tell her to enjoy it while it lasts,” she mused, giving him her full attention.
“I’d like to think you did,” Mark replied tersely. He tipped his chin, his voice low and husky as he insisted, “We had our share of fun, right, Anna?”
Anna felt someone’s eyes on her and glanced over to see Rosemary watching them with interest from across the room. She forced a pleasant smile, despite the fury fueling each breath. The last thing she needed was for Rosemary Hastings to put two and two together and start speculating. She’d pester and prod until the truth spilled out and then… The last thing Anna wanted was to make her love life—or lack thereof—a family affair.
Besides, there was nothing left to discuss, was there?
“I don’t see any point in hashing out our past, Mark. We’ve both moved on. Some of us sooner than others,” she hissed through the permanent grin she wore.
The party was buzzing around them, lively conversation interrupted by waves of laughter. This was her sister’s engagement party. She would have a good time if it killed her. Mark had spoiled enough for her; she wouldn’t let him taint this night, too.
Mark opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him before he had the chance. “If you don’t mind, I wanted to talk to Kara a bit before the night gets away from us. Give Nicole my regards. And my condolences.”
She grinned wider, blinking away her mounting emotion, careful not to let it show in her face, as she merged through the crowd, stopping to mingle, to even laugh, and to pretend like nothing in the world was wrong.
Tonight was a happy night for their family. Her own disappointments had no place in this room.
Or in her heart.
Jane peered across the room, realization beginning to unfold at the interaction between her sister and Mark. From a distance, Anna seemed perfectly fine, smiling and laughing with this friend or that, but Jane had seen the way she’d stiffened when Mark walked in with Nicole Johnson. She couldn’t get away from the pair fast enough, whereas Mark, it seemed, had other ideas in mind. Not only had he followed her into the dining room, but now, after what appeared to be a brief and tense exchange despite their false cheer, his gaze lingered on Anna, minutes after she had wandered away from him, without a glance back.
“Mommy. Mommy!”
Jane ignored the tugging at her skirt and craned her neck, just in time to see Nicole saunter over and take Mark by the arm, forcefully pulling his attention away from Anna, who was now chatting animatedly with Kara in the corner of the living room.
“Mommy, can I have another cookie?”
“Sure. Sure.” She righted herself, and looked sharply at Sophie, who was grinning ear to ear. She hadn’t been paying attention, and now she’d promised too much. “What? No. I’m sorry; you’ve had enough sugar for one night.”
“Aw, but it’s a special night,” Sophie pointed out.
Jane hid her grin. “One more, but that’s it.”
Sophie’s eyes lit up and she ran over to the dessert table and carefully selected a cookie from the abundant selection. Jane watched as she took a small bite of the cookie, smiled, and then twirled around in the new pink dress Jane had bought her especially for the party. Grace had asked Sophie to be her flower girl, and it was a role Sophie was already taking very seriously. Jane figured tonight might be a good practice run for attending an adult event, and as she watched
Sophie take hands with the son of one of Luke’s friends, she felt her heart grow heavy.
It might be an adult party, but Sophie was falling into step easier than she could say she was.
Pulling her silk wrap tighter around her shoulders, Jane glanced around the room, trying hard not to frown. All around her it seemed people were paired off, talking to other couples. She knew she could go over and sit with Anna and Kara, or chat with Luke’s youngest sister, Molly, who had driven in for the weekend to attend the party, but she wasn’t feeling up for it just yet. It was the first social event she had been to without Adam, and his absence was more prominent than she had expected.
Jane checked to make sure Sophie wasn’t up to trouble and then ducked out into the hall, happy for a chance to escape on her own for just a few seconds. As part of her mother’s recent design changes, she had removed most of the family photos that had hung in the downstairs of the house, choosing instead to pepper the bookshelves in the study with black-and-white candids. Along the sweeping staircase leading to the second floor, however, she had carefully assembled a collage of their best photos, most professionally taken over the years. Jane took the first step, smiling at her parents’ wedding photo housed in a silver frame. They were so young. So much life was still ahead of them—so much left to be discovered.
It was the same way she’d felt when she married Adam. It was a sense of security, a feeling of knowing that they were in this together, that at the end of the day, they would always come home to each other. That they’d never have to be alone.
And look at her now.
Jane took a sip of her wine and climbed higher, gliding her hand along the smooth, polished banister, soaking in the memories that had unfolded under this roof. There was Grace as a baby, then Anna, then Jane. And Sophie.
She paused, frowning, when she noticed the frame that had once held her own wedding photo now boasted a picture of Grace and Luke, taken this past New Year’s Eve, right after they got back together.
Her pulse sped up, and she steadied herself on the railing. Of course her wedding picture would be taken down. She was going through a divorce. Yet, somehow, imagining her mother going through the premeditated act of removing the frame, replacing the photo, and then rehanging it was just too much.
