Hurt her heart.
A little over two weeks until Christmas, and she missed her family and the green, silent hills of Oban so much her stomach remained in a permanent double knot. Great for the waistline though—hell, she could pass on some diet tips to Holly and the girls.
Never need Spanx again! Shaye smiled grimly as she skirted around a bell-ringing Santa. Just get your heart broken and move nine-thousand miles to chase a dream you no longer think you want, and voila! Pounds will melt away!
Seriously, she thought turning into the narrow alley that led to the staff entrance of Ward’s. She should write a book.
Shaye rapped on the metal door with her I’m so happy I work here and I don’t care that I’m demoted to a fricken’ commis-trainee chef smile fixed solid. So much for being a line cook and Ethan Ward’s protégé; she’d only clapped eyes on the man twice since she’d arrived.
The young dishwasher with spiked blond hair known only as Bub, short for Bubbles, opened the door.
“You back again, Kiwi?” His white teeth were a gleaming crescent in his chocolate brown skin.
Shaye returned his smile—a genuine one, this time. Bub was the only person who bothered to treat her as another human being. The girl from a teeny tiny island somewhere near Antarctica had never considered other staff members at Ward’s would resent her presence. Or think she’d slept with Ethan to get there.
So that’s what she’d endure for the rest of the shift—hours of non-stop orders and in-her-face blustering from the sous chef. Then freezing her ass off on the subway to her tiny place to spend the next few hours watching bad re-runs, and aching to feel Del’s arms around her. Fun times.
“Yeah,” she said, trudging inside.
Too dumb, too stubborn, too proud to quit, that was her. The door slamming behind her echoed like a cell-block lockdown.
***
“Whaddya want? Entrance is ‘round front.”
Del held his ground at the back door to Ward’s New York and leveled a stare at the guy with punked-up hair. “I’m looking for Shaye Harland. She finished her shift yet?”
“Who’s asking?” The man folded his arms over his solid chest. “You her brother?”
Judging by his food-stained apron and harried expression, Del figured he’d interrupted the dishwasher during his busiest time.
“A friend.” He tried to crane a look into the kitchen, but the guy’s bulk blocked him. “I’ve just flown in from New Zealand to see her. Twelve hours next to a screaming toddler, then another five cramped next to a fat guy in cattle class into JFK. So put me outta my fucking misery. She here?”
“Nope. She’s done, man. Skipped out ‘bout fifteen minutes ago.”
Del swore and kicked the step. Knew he should’ve come straight from the airport instead of dumping his bags at a hotel. He glanced up at the man who watched him with cool, dark eyes.
“You’re not going to tell me where she lives, I’m guessing?”
A bark of laughter. “Aw, hell no. Kiwi’s a scary girl when she gets riled up.”
“Yeah.” Del shook his head, but a grin teased up the corner of his mouth. “She really is and then some.”
The big guy showed him a flash of white teeth bared in what Del hoped was a smile. “Name’s Bub, and Kiwi’s more than your friend, isn’t she? She’s your girl.”
“She was. I’m hoping to convince her to be again.”
“Screwed up, huh?”
Del grimaced. “Big time.”
“She know you coming?”
“Nope. Hoping to surprise her.” And hoping she wouldn’t tell him to piss off. Which was why he needed to speak to her face to face, and not try to convince her over the phone. “Shit. I’ll have to come again tomorrow. What time is she on?”
Bub shook his head. “Brother, there’s no use coming back tomorrow. I told you, she’s done. She quit.”
Del eyes popped wide. “Fuck. She what?”
Bub glanced over his shoulder and stepped down into the dirty alleyway. “You didn’t hear from me, but they treated Shaye bad. Your girl stuck it out long past what any normal cook would. She’s stubborn, that one.”
Del bristled, his fists clenching. “And Ward? He around?”
Bub’s nose crinkled as if he’d sniffed something rotten. “The man don’t bother to show up ‘round here less a camera crew’s with him.”
What the fuck was Ethan thinking, promising her a way into his world and then abandoning her like a new-born chick? His phone burned a hole in his pocket, an idea forming in his mind.
“I got this, Bub. Thanks for your help.”
“You take care of my Kiwi girl,” Bub said and went inside then he turned, the door half closed. “And you better do it quick. She probably stopped for a slice of that pizza she loves, but those E trains leave every five minutes—better hope she hasn’t gone home already.”
“Gotcha.” Del nodded and dragged out his phone.
Standing in the now-deserted alleyway, Del scrolled through his contacts and hit send. While the call connected, he smoothed out the fury bubbling in his gut.
“Ethan,” he said coolly, when the other man barked a hello down the line. “It’s Del Westlake. We didn’t part on the best of terms, but I’m asking you to do me a favor.”
***
Graceful and not-so-graceful skaters circled the ice below, some wobbling, some spinning, others clinging to the handrail with white-knuckled grips. Shaye wrapped the knitted scarf her mother had made tighter around her neck, the merino-possum blend wool carrying a hint of Chanel No. 5. She closed her eyes to cast a wish at the Rockefeller Plaza’s gigantic Christmas tree.
If you’re listening, Santa, I want to go home. Even more, I want he-who-won’t-be-named-because-I-can’t-think-of-him-without-crying back. I think I screwed up big time.
Sucked to be an adult with little faith in Christmas wishes.
Stamping her cold, aching legs, she walked away from the rink and skirted the crowds to the 50th Street entrance of the Top of the Rock observation decks.
After telling Ward’s sous to insert the job in his nearest available orifice, Shaye had stalked up Lexington to her favorite pizza joint. And to hell with it—she had stopped to eat, instead of returning to her cold, empty apartment. Alone. And unemployed. Again. Yeah, real happy thoughts she’d been entertaining when Ethan Ward rang. Bloody nark of a sous chef.
But Ethan still talked her in to meeting him on the sixty-seventh floor observation deck at ten tonight, promising an ear to her complaints.
“Why on earth would you want to meet there?” she’d asked.
“Didn’t I promise to show you the world? You can see it from the Top of the Rock.”
Trust a city slicker to think the world could only be seen from a skyscraper. Not her world. That was visible from the choppy waves of Foveaux Strait, or from the highest peak of Stewart Island, Mount Anglem.
New York wasn’t her world and never would be.
Ethan probably thought by showing her Manhattan’s lights she’d cave like wet cardboard and return to being Ward’s dogs body.
Nuh-uh.
Shaye followed a group of tourists up the inside ramp, past the huge windows overlooking Radio City Music Hall’s neon signs and into the elevator, which whisked her up to dizzying heights. She trailed after the tourists into the spacious lobby, funneled with them to the observation decks. Small clusters of people stood at the sheer glass walls. No Ethan, but then she’d arrived a little early, and Ethan was known for being late.
In the distance, the Empire State Building’s red and green holiday lightshow dominated the nightscape. Shaye crossed the tiled deck and a beautiful mosaic compass with arrows pointed in four directions. North, uptown. East and the East River, West and the Hudson River. South… She tugged her scarf up higher, hot tears prickling her eyes. South, lay Due South and Stewart Island.
“I made it, Daddy.” The protective glass walls were icy under her fingertips. Far below came the fa
int sounds of city traffic, and the expanse of lights shimmered. “All the way to New York City.”
“He would’ve been proud,” someone said behind her.
A rough, sweet, and familiar voice melted along her frazzled nerves. Boy, a woman could fry eggs on a voice that hot.
Del? Or had over-tiredness and stress caused her to hallucinate?
She turned slowly. But no, there was Del in his black pea-coat, jeans, and Converse sneakers, with at least forty-eight hours of stubble. He walked closer, his blue eyes brighter than any holiday lights.
Del’s here! He’s really here!
She sucked in a lungful of crisp winter air, the cogs in her brain spinning. “Ethan’s not coming, is he? You set this up.”
Del gave her a crooked smile. “Are you disappointed?”
Disappointed? She wanted to twine around his tall, hard body like gift-wrap and then kiss the turkey stuffing out of him. But until she knew why he’d come, she’d do her best to avoid a second humiliating experience this evening.
Shaye shoved her hands into her coat pockets, just in case they misbehaved and reached for him. “Not disappointed, just curious.”
There. Her voice came out calm, smooth, and without a trace of oh-my-gawd-kiss-me-already.
He grabbed the strap of a small backpack on his shoulder. “I brought you something.”
Del unzipped the bag and drew out a stack of what looked like cards, tied with a red ribbon.
“Love letters?” she said dryly, but her stomach gave a little pirouette.
“In a way, yes.” He passed them over. “They’re from all the people whose lives you’ve touched. Mr. Peterson. Mrs. Taylor. The Komekes. Jade and Zoe. Holly, Erin, Vince, Bill—and two dozen others. Even your brother wrote a card.”
“That’s…” Her voice caught. “That’s very sweet. Thank you.”
“They wanted you to know how much you mean to them. How much they miss you. How much they want you to come home.”
“I have a job in New York now.”
Ahh.
If Del had spoken to Ethan, he’d know her current employment status. “Okay, I had a job in New York. It turns out the big city is not for me.”
“Turns out it’s not for me, either—though I’m planning to stay here for as long as it takes to win you over.”
“Oh?” Shaye folded her arms and cocked a hip. A girl needed some attitude to stop from melting into a gooey puddle. “You think you’re going to win me over?”
“You forgot the ‘you vain, lily-livered, half-witted pig’s bladder of a man.’ Alternatively, ‘you big jerk’ is also quite cutting.” The dimple popped in his cheek.
So not fair.
“Hmmph,” she managed.
Mellllllting…
“You were right.” He took the stack of cards off her, returned them to his backpack, and dropped it on the ground. With another flash of dimples, he grabbed her hands. “The bad-boy chef from LA was scared he was just an unlovable jerk with baggage. You made me believe I was more than that—better than that. I didn’t want to tell you about my past in the beginning because I was ashamed. Later I was fucking terrified, realizing I could lose you. Pride refused to let me say ‘hey, guy drowning here.’ Not anymore. I want to tell you about me and Rosalie.”
Wait—wha—?
The man flies across the world to win her over by telling her about another woman? And the bastard had the gall to look all smokin’ hot and edible while smiling at her. She gave an experimental yank of her right hand, but he tightened his grip, his grin spreading even wider. Blood surged up her face in a flash-pan of heat, a sharp contrast to the chill breeze oozing through the gaps in the glass walls.
Should’ve known this day could get worse.
“Screw you.”
His eyes flew open, and he snorted out a laugh. “You’re so cute when you’re riled.”
Shaye bared her teeth. Piper’s desire to sometimes strangle her man now seemed rational, and her mother’s scarf looked like a pretty damn convenient weapon.
“You really don’t think I’d…?” Del rolled his eyes. “Rosalie is a counselor in Invercargill who specializes in helping people with addictions. I’ve been to see her twice, and I’ll continue with monthly visits and weekly phone calls.”
Shaye blinked at him. “You. Going to see a counselor?”
“Yeah. And my family knows too, so I’m accountable to someone—quite a lot of someones. I should hand in my man-card, but I have to admit, talking to Rosalie helps.”
“Oh.” Del going to a counselor was a huge step—a step she never thought he’d make. “Well, it’s great you’ve found Rosalie—and I’m glad your family has your back.”
He released her hands and cupped her jaw, stroking his thumbs over her numb cheeks. “The one person I truly need watching my back is you, Shaye. I’m letting you in. I’m trusting you to see all of me—even the ugly bits—and still love me. I’m such a sorry, stupid fool that I didn’t trust you before. I didn’t like who I’d become in LA, but I like the guy who emerged after falling in love with you.”
If Shaye’s heart pounded any faster she’d go into cardiac arrest on one of New York’s landmarks. He loved her? He wouldn’t keep her at a distance anymore? “Are you serious?”
“As serious as Mrs. Taylor cutting the red ribbon across the community hall’s doors for the first Due South senior’s dinner.” He touched the tip of his cold nose to hers. “As serious as the hot-meal delivery system we’re starting in January. And as serious as I am about you coming home as Due South’s head chef, since it’s your dream.”
“Get out!” she blurted.
“I mean it.” He grinned down at her. “I love when you go into bossy-chef mode. I love you.”
She could hardly breathe.
“I’m not sure if head chef is my dream now,” she said. “Working beside you at Due South before Ethan came is the happiest I’ve ever been. That’s my dream now, to work with you.”
“I thought you hated working with me.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I let you think that, because it kept your ego in check.”
“My ego is well and truly checked. You fucking cut me off at the knees when you left. I know I’ll never be your Mr. Perfect, but give me a chance and every day I’ll be the man who loves you more than anything.”
“You’re not the only one cut off at the knees. I’ve had a lot of time to think stuck in my tiny apartment.” Shaye placed her hands over his, stroking the faint raised scars on his fingers. “The whole time I was waiting for perfection, I had real and amazing under my nose. I love you, Del, the real, one-hundred-percent authentic you—even the ugly bits. I don’t care if you hate Pride and Prejudice. I don’t care if you belch, and scratch, and you’ll never remember birthdays unless I set a reminder on your phone. And even though some days I’ll want to bury your body in an unmarked grave—even then, I’ll never find another man more perfect for me than you are.”
He bent and kissed her, a kiss that made her blood sizzle and rocked her world’s axis.
“Remember the fight we had when I said the day I got on my knees to grovel for a woman’s affection would be the day Dr. Joe could cart me away in a straitjacket?”
“Will we have more of those kinds of fights?” she said, sounding a little dreamy. She so remembered getting naked and messy with Del soon after.
“Probably lots.” His voice was a low, sexy rumble. “And with that in mind…” Del dropped to one knee and fumbled in his coat pocket.
“Dammit! Where’s it gone?”
Shaye quit breathing. Holy-freaking-guacamole with a side order of cinnamon sticks! Was he…?
Del whipped out his hand with a red-plated I♥NY souvenir ring clasped between his thumb and first finger. Her heart did a crazy-happy-boogie in her chest. He was. He totally was.
“Del, get up.” She laughed as the first tiny flakes of snow landed on his hair. “You don’t need to do this!”
“Yeah,
I do.” He remained on his knees. “Because I’ll only do this once, and if we one day have kids, I don’t want you telling them their old man didn’t know how to do it right. See? Lights, camera, action.” He gestured to the sparkling lights all around and a couple of tourists who had their phones aimed at them. “I love you, Shaye Harland, and I’ll love you with everything I’ve got for the rest of our lives. I didn’t stop at Tiffany’s to buy you a proper ring because I wanted us to choose one together if you say yes. So say yes. Say you’ll marry me.”
“You know I’ll drive you crazy, right?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“And although we’d never go hungry, I don’t do ironing, and I loathe cleaning the bathroom,” she said.
“We’ll wear wrinkled clothes, and I’m good being on permanent john duty. Small price to pay.” More snowflakes spiraled down, giving Del’s rumpled brown hair a salt-and-pepper frost.
“I’m stubborn and opinionated. I jump to conclusions, and I have dreamy misconceptions about love and marriage.”
“We’ve already established neither of us are saints.” Del shrugged and reached for her hand again. “And not all your dreamy ideas are misconceptions. We’ll define how our love and marriage should be.”
His eyes blazed, but she couldn’t quite form her lips around a one syllable answer.
“There’s too much of you taking up space in my heart already,” she said. “I couldn’t bear letting you go again…”
He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Baby, you won’t have to. Get used to having me under your feet, because I’ll continue to fill up your big, loyal heart for the next fifty years, and you’ll fill mine. Don’t you think we’re worth the risk?”
She’d never have the easy, stress-free love she once thought she wanted. They’d need to trim, mold, sometimes even carve into their lives to make their two halves fit. They’d disagree and butt heads, and each would have to shoulder the burden of loving the other through tough times and painful decisions.
But the payoff…
Oh, the payoff of loving this incredible man and being loved by him. Of working together, laughing together, being the one he’d whisper to last thing at night, the one she’d wake to in the morning.
Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) Page 30
