Secret Wife

by Mia Carson

  “I didn’t know he was still sick,” he told her quietly as she fumed at him. “I’m sorry, truly I am.”

  “Wow, that’s really all you can think to say, huh? Just, wow.” She flipped him off and stormed past him. He stepped into her path, and as she attempted to walk around him, he reached out and caught her arm. “Let me go, bastard.”

  “Let me help you,” he pleaded. “Please, what does your father have? Or I can give you a raise?”

  “You think everything comes back to the money.” She yanked her arm from his hand and opened her truck door. “I want my future back, my dad’s restaurant back. That’s what I want. I want my respect back,” she muttered, climbing up behind the wheel and slamming the door.

  He couldn’t do any of that even if he wanted to. At least not yet. If there was a way—any way—he could get the restaurant out of his father’s control and give it to her, he would. Wouldn’t he? She was the life of that place.

  She cursed and smacked her hand on the steering wheel of the truck, drawing his attention to the fact it wouldn’t start.

  “Wait,” he exclaimed and held onto the truck door through the open window. “Wait, please. I’m not my father, Jaylyn.”

  She stopped trying to start the truck and glared at him. “Really? Prove it.”

  “I’m trying to,” he said, and she looked confused. “Right now, Jaybird’s and the lodge are under my father’s name.”

  “But you said this is your project.”

  “Yes, but his name is on everything important. He won’t relinquish power to me until it’s up and running for six months, successfully, and….and I take care of another matter I’ve put off,” he mumbled, wondering if he was ready to embrace his fate if he could help one person, if it would help Jaylyn. The cold voice in his head that sounded more and more like his father these days told him not to be an idiot, but the old Walker rose and told that voice to go to hell. His father ruined people’s lives. Walker wouldn’t let him ruin Jaylyn’s.

  “What’s the other matter?”

  He grimaced. “Listen, do you want my help or not? I don’t want to tell you about it.”

  Her hands slipped from the wheel to her lap as she scrutinized him. His hands trembled. Why was he so damn nervous to hear her reply? She was a good cook and he’d hate for her to leave his employ, but it was more than that. She was strong-willed and passionate and damned attractive, even when she was pissed.

  “I do, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Give me a year,” he requested. “No, sorry, nine months. Give me nine months, and if everything goes as planned, when I officially take over the restaurant and the lodge, I’ll put you and your family back in charge.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Won’t be in the picture. Next year, he’s moving himself further south. He won’t be here to complain, and if he does…well, if he does, I’ll deal with it.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  He removed his hands and gave her the most genuine smile he could muster. “You can’t, but I’m a man of my word. Nine months max, and as soon as Leo Allard is out of the picture, the Jaybird is yours again.” He saw the thoughts racing in her mind as her eyes narrowed. He could pull it off. All he needed was her to give him the time.

  Your father will eat you alive for this, he warned himself. Why do you care so much about her?

  “Deal,” she said finally and stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took it and she clasped it hard. “If you fuck this up for me, if you go back on your word, you’ll regret it.”

  He believed every word she said. “I won’t, you have my word.”

  She released his hand and tried to start her truck again as he stepped back. He wanted her to stay, maybe talk with her some more, but if her dad was sick, he might need her. It took a few long minutes for the engine to turn over, and she backed down the drive to the turnaround spot and left. Walker watched the smoke spewing from her exhaust and wondered how much she would hate him if he bought her a bonus on top of the extra he’d paid her.

  Strider bumped his leg and barked. A tennis ball was at Walker’s feet, and he bent to pick it up. “Ready to run, boy?”

  Strider barked excitedly and Walker chucked the ball across the lawn. Nine months. He had nine months to get the lodge and restaurant up and running and find himself a damn wife to present at the ball on New Year’s Eve. He’d be hitching himself to one of three ladies he could barely handle an evening with, let alone the rest of his life. Hopefully, if he suffered through a few years of marriage, he could get a divorce and be finished with the situation. Either way, he had to throw himself into these renovations and hiring people; otherwise, his plan would go to shit before he managed to get anywhere at all.

  The next week passed in an exhausted blur. Walker rose early in the morning to reach the lodge and speak with his contractors and see how training was coming along for the new staff. The main lobby still needed to be completely torn apart, and he was running out of time. March would be over in two weeks, which brought that damn opening date that much closer. He loathed Leo for forcing his hand, but Walker held on to the notion that he would win this one in the end.

  Jaylyn would get her restaurant back, no matter what.

  But by the end of the first week, though he’d managed to staff the whole lodge, there was still no cook willing to take on the kitchen at Jaybird’s. No applicants. Nothing at all. He parked his truck in the drive and slumped over the steering wheel. The reason no one would work there escaped him. Was it possible all the local cooks and chefs he considered knew Jaylyn or Darien personally and were boycotting the restaurant? He didn’t want to go to Jaylyn and ask her to find someone to take her job, but he was desperate.

  He needed a full kitchen staff so they could figure out a good summer menu. Orders would need to be placed in advance to ensure they had product when they needed it.

  “Just ask her,” he muttered to himself as he climbed out of his truck and trudged inside.

  “Good evening,” Douglas said, greeting him as always, no matter how late in the evening it was.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of being here?” He handed over his suit jacket and crouched to pet his dogs as they swarmed him. “I never expect you to stay so late.”

  “I’m not the only one here late, sir,” he explained with an arched brow.

  “Jaylyn?” He checked his watch. “It’s after nine. I don’t have a date tonight.”

  “She said she had things to work on for this weekends’ meals and she’s making a larger batch of food for the dogs.”

  He ran his hands down his thighs then stood. “Yes, well, I guess this is a good thing.”

  “You have something to discuss with her?” Douglas asked, intrigued.

  “That I do, but it’s nothing too exciting, so off with you. No eavesdropping, unless you truly want to hear then you can simply follow.”

  Douglas’ blank face broke into a grin immediately. “I do love my gossip.”

  Rock music trickled out from the kitchen as Walker neared. He pushed the door open quietly to see inside. Jaylyn was mixing something at the counter, her back to him. Her chef’s shirt was tossed over a chair and she stood in her snug jeans and a sleeveless black shirt that hugged her body. Her arms were well-toned, and when she turned, flour decorated her cheek and her dark hair was pulled back in a bright pink bandanna. It was like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t had the chance to watch her work for long, but spying on her now, when she thought she was alone, so lost in her element, the true beauty of this woman was revealed. She smiled to herself as she mixed and added ingredients, moving with the music. A screaming, head-banging song came on that he utterly despised, but she smirked and banged her head lightly a few times along with the beat.

  “Do you plan on staying here all night, sir?” Douglas asked behind him and Walker cursed.

  Jaylyn turned the music down and squinted at the door. “Douglas? That you?”

&
nbsp; “And me,” Walker said, having no choice but to step inside. “You know you’re not required to be here this late.”

  “I do, but I like to be prepped for the weekend. Habit.”

  “A good one, I’m sure,” Walker said and rapped his knuckles on the island counter.

  Jaylyn continued to mix whatever was in the bowl. “Did you need something? Oh, besides your dinner. It’s in the oven, warming.” She turned to grab hot-pads and pulled out a small casserole dish.

  Walker moved closer, building up the nerve to ask his extremely difficult favor. The mixture in the bowl looked good, and as he thought over exactly what to say, he stuck his finger in it to get a scoop and ate it. “What is this? It’s fantastic,” he mused and dipped his other finger in for one more bite.

  Jaylyn set down the casserole on the stovetop and burst out laughing. She bent over double, wiping tears from her eyes as Walker looked on, confused. “You realize…what you’re eating…right?”

  Douglas chuckled behind him as well.

  “What did I miss? What is this?” He mulled the last bite over in his mouth, but it tasted fine.

  “That would be your dogs’ dinners,” Jaylyn informed him, struggling to keep a straight face and failing miserably as Walker wiped his finger on his slacks and coughed. “Oh, don’t look so horrified. If you can’t eat it then your dogs shouldn’t eat it either.”

  “A fair point, but strange all the same.” He retrieved a glass of water to wash it down, and when the taste was gone from his mouth, he turned back to see her still smiling and Douglas looking on in amusement. “I wanted to ask you a question, and you may feel the need to either hit me or throw something at me,” he started. She turned to him, swinging the towel up over her shoulder, and crossed her arms. “I want you to know I am prepared to face whatever the consequence of me speaking may be.”

  “Uh huh,” she muttered. “Go on.”

  “I appear to be in need of a chef for Jaybird’s. Actually,” he admitted with a defeated sigh, “I need an entire kitchen staff.”

  “Still,” she stated. “You still need a kitchen staff.”

  “Yes, yes, I do.”

  “Walker, you open in two months. How do you not have a kitchen staff?”

  “I have tried, believe me I have, but no one has applied and those I send inquiries out to I never hear back from.”

  “Who have you tried?” she asked, taking this situation much better than he anticipated, which only made him more worried she was saving up her anger to lash out him when he least expected it.

  He found his phone in his pocket and rattled off the names. “Do you know them, by chance?”

  “Yeah, and I’m not the only one. That idiot,” she snapped and chucked the towel in the sink. “That damn, stubborn ass idiot! I’m going to kill him!”

  “Who are you going to kill, and is it me so I can get a head start?” Walker asked.

  “No, not you. Give me the weekend and come Monday morning, you’ll have a kitchen staff.”

  “Just like that? How?”

  “Trust me.” She grumbled a few other curses at whomever she seemed to think was responsible for Walker’s lack of kitchen staff. He picked up his dinner and carried it to the kitchen table to eat. Douglas joined him and they watched Jaylyn finish her prep work. She turned the music back up a little, and when she was finished, placed the food in the fridge and plopped down beside Douglas. “For the record, I did not tell them to do this.”

  Walker swallowed his mouthful of food. “Do what?”

  “Turn down any job offers coming from you for the restaurant.”

  “They are boycotting Jaybird’s?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I have a feeling that’s what’s going on.”

  “So who were you cursing?” She held his gaze and it clicked. “Your father.”

  “Yes, my sick, aggravating, annoying father.” She rested her head in her hands, tearing off the bandanna and shaking her hair out messily. “He thinks he’s going to hit you where it hurts, but I’m not going to let him destroy what he built out of spite.”

  “Jaylyn,” he said, “do your parents realize what your new job is?” Instantly, he saw her dig her thumbnail into her palm.

  “Of course they do. What kind of daughter would I be if I lied to their faces about working for the enemy.”

  “So that’d be a no,” he muttered and she sagged. “You might want to tell them.”

  “Now I don’t have a choice.”

  “And you didn’t tell them about the deal, either?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Walker shouldn’t have said anything else and let it go, but during the last week with Jaylyn, they’d warmed up to each other more. They talked and joked in the few minutes they would see each other before he headed off to work or she left for the day. “Now who’s scared?”

  His words hung in the air, and for a second, he thought she would leave. Quit right there and he’d be screwed. Instead, she stood up, walked to the counter where a freshly made cream pie sat, picked it up, and stalked towards him.

  “Oh, now, come on, I was only joking!” he insisted, trying to get to his feet and away, but she was too fast. The pie slammed into his face, and he heard Douglas chuckling uncontrollably as Jaylyn joined him. He pulled the pan from his face and swiped away the pie enough to see them both bent over with laughter.

  He stood, pie dripping from his face to the floor. He scooped a handful off his face and chucked it at Jaylyn. She gasped as it smacked wetly into her face, and he giggled like a kid as he did the same to Douglas. Vanilla orange mousse and whipped cream flew across the kitchen as the three dove into the food fight whole-heartedly. Walker hadn’t laughed this hard in far too long, and the notion that this moment would give Leo a heart attack if he saw it only made it that much better. When most of the pie was gone and they had to clean up—with the help of the dogs, of course—Jaylyn wiped off her face and sighed.

  “All right, I’m going home. See you in the morning, hopefully with good news.”

  “Thank you, Jaylyn,” Walker said sincerely.

  “Hey, if you’re going to make good on this promise, I’m not letting my family’s restaurant be dragged down into the mud. My dad will have to swallow his pride and get over it.”

  Walker watched her leave and leaned against the counter. “Douglas?”

  “Yes?”

  The question died on his tongue, and he told him to forget about it. Douglas went home for the night, and Walker and his three dogs went to bed, all four dreaming of flying pies and an amazing woman he knew would get him into trouble.

  Jaylyn expected her parents to be in bed like always when she got home, smiling from the food fight in the kitchen, but the lights were on in the house. Worried something was wrong with Darien, she sprinted inside and found them both sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of papers between them.

  “Guys?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Sit down, Lyn,” Mariah said, patting the chair beside her. “We weren’t sure when you’d be home tonight but wanted to tell you what was going on.”

  “You could’ve texted. I would’ve left earlier. Dad?”

  He was pale, so much paler than before. “We’ve decided…well, it’s more like your mother is dragging me to the hospital for treatment.”

  “Good. It’s about time.”

  Mariah nodded, but she didn’t seem happy about it. “The medical bills will bury us and we’re already behind on so much… we have to sell the house, Lyn. We can’t afford this place if your father starts treatment.”

  Jaylyn tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. “The money I gave you? It’s not helping?”

  Her parents exchanged a glance. “That’s another issue we wanted to talk to you about,” Darien said. “Who exactly did you say you’re working for?”

  Jaylyn couldn’t meet his gaze when she replied. “I told you. Some rich guy who lives not far away. He pays really well and I hoped you
could use it to help with the house.”

  “No in-home cook makes that much money without doing something on the side.” Mariah reached for her daughter’s hand. “Are you doing things for this man? Sleeping with him? Is something else going on we don’t know about?”

  Jaylyn’s jaw dropped. “What? Are you seriously asking me that? Jesus Christ, Mom! I’m a chef, not a prostitute!” She jumped up from her chair to grab a glass of water.

  “Then who do you work for? Why don’t you talk about your job?” Darien insisted.

  She gulped her water and refilled the glass, watching the clear liquid as she thought frantically of the best way to explain her current situation. “Look, you’re not going to like it so I’m just going to tell you, but you can’t say a damn word until I’m finished, got it? Neither of you.”

  They agreed, but she knew the moment she said Walker’s name, Darien would lose it.

  “All right, I’m working at the home of Walker Allard,” she explained. “He put an ad in the paper and no one else contacted me, so I interviewed and have been cooking for him the past three weeks.”

  Darien’s face went from pale to bright red in a shot. “You are working for that bastard’s son? The man who stole everything from this family?”

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t interrupt,” she reminded him.

  “You can’t work for him. I forbid it,” he raged. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What’s wrong with me?” she yelled back. “You’ve been sick for how long and you refuse to get treatment because you’re a stubborn ass man. We lost our restaurant, but I’m working on a way to get it back. I’m doing something about it, I’m fighting for it. For us.”

  “You don’t think I am?” he argued.

  “No,” she said slamming the glass down. “I know what you did. You called every cook you thought he might try to bring into Jaybird’s and told them to boycott.”

  “I see nothing wrong with that.”

  “Well, I do. I have a chance to win our dream back, Dad, and you’re going to fuck everything up.”