by Andrea Hurst
“Meet me for dinner or else.”
Or else what? “What is that suppose to mean?” he texted back.
“I don’t think you want it to show on your phone. You know what I mean,” was her reply.
He did know what she meant. She, of all people, knew his shame and guilt for not insisting his buddy, Chef Andrew, go to the hospital that night at the restaurant, and how close he’d come to following in his friend’s drug habit himself. Peyton would happily share his private life with anyone who would listen.
“Dinner?”
He texted back, “I’m not hungry.”
“How about just a drink then?” She texted a wink after the message.
“A short one,” he answered.
Her last message said, “Meet me at the Captain’s Cove. 7:00. I’ll be in the bar at the back of the restaurant.”
Did he dare ignore her? Perhaps one conversation face-to-face would put an end to this.
The meeting place was a lovely, tavern-type bar right on the water overlooking Muscle Cove. Ryan remembered it from New Year’s Day when they’d been here for their wonderful brunch. The chef had a large herb garden right on the property, which Ryan envied. He hated the thought of being seen with the actress, but it was a Monday night and it wouldn’t be crowded. He could run up there, have a drink, and finally figure out what she was after. Forewarned is forearmed, and all that. Ryan took a shower and put on a button-down shirt. He wasn’t dressing for her, but he sure didn’t want to look like he’d just stepped out of the kitchen. It was a nice place, even if the company would be anything but.
He got in the car and drove it down the tree-lined road that bordered the cove. It was just starting to get dark—the sun didn’t set this time of year until after 9:00 p.m. Shadows of the trees reflected across the water and the red bark of the Madrona trees had a fiery glow when they caught the muted evening sun. They’d be able to see the full sunset from the bar; at least he could enjoy that. He reminded himself that he needed to stay on guard at all times. Just what did Peyton have in mind? She was always scheming, and he had no doubt that this was part of a big one. Ryan wasn’t leaving tonight until he found out exactly what she wanted from him and made sure she knew anything they might have once had was completely over.
The parking lot was nestled under some old growth pines. He found a spot and parked the car on a bed of the copper colored pine needles that covered the lot. The restored old sailboat the restaurant used for tours and private parties, was anchored at the end of the short pier for tours and private parties. He’d love to take Jude out on it for a sunset dinner cruise sometime. The golden sunlight spotlighted the hills just across the cove where Kelly green light filtered down across the grassy knolls.
Ryan wished he were here with Jude and not on this dreaded mission, but it was time to get this over with. He pushed through the red front doors and nodded to the receptionist.
“Just heading to the bar,” he said. He walked through the half-empty formal dining room toward the tavern area. Even if it was high season, Mondays were not a big day in town as most of the tourists were gone.
As expected, there was Peyton Chandler in all her glory sitting at the largest table, of course, the one that had the unobstructed view of the water. As if staged by a set designer, an oversize bouquet of roses wrapped in gold tissue paper lay on the table next to a candle with a flickering flame, a bottle of champagne chilling, and two glasses filled with the sparkling wine.
“What the . . . ?” he murmured under his breath.
She waved and blew him a kiss. His stomach clenched. His pace slowed as if he were moving toward her in slow motion.
“Ryan,” she said sweetly, displaying her classic smile. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “What’s with the flowers?”
“Aren’t they beautiful?” She lifted them and held them under his nose. “Have a smell.”
He leaned over to smell the flowers, and the next thing he knew there were flashbulbs going off. Paparazzi reporters and photographers jumped out from behind the bar and snapped pictures of them. As if on cue, Peyton rose and moved over behind him. She threw her diamond-clad arms around him, pressed her body into his back, and kissed the side of his face and neck. Flashbulbs added to the surreal scene.
Ryan pushed her off and broke free of her grip. “What is all this?” he said. The flowers, the wine, Peyton dressed in a slinky red sundress cut down to her naval. It was falling into place.
“What is going on, Peyton?” he demanded as he pushed back his chair.
She smirked, her eyes piercing his like daggers. She stepped aside and clutched a champagne glass in her hand. “To us,” she said, smiling at the cameras again.
Ryan’s face burned as the cameras went off, catching the perfect romantic scene expertly designed by Peyton. Just the two of them, dressed up and in this cozy bar that they had all to themselves.
“Why, Peyton? Why?”
Her lips curled. “Why not?”
Ryan shook his head in disbelief. “What do you want from me?”
“Don’t worry, honey,” she said, “I just got what I wanted. Now we’ll see how well it works.”
It took all the restraint he could command to not take her long neck in his hands and squeeze it with every drop of strength he had. “Don’t ever contact me again,” he said between gritted teeth.
“With pleasure,” she all but purred.
Ryan looked at the cameramen and shook his head, “It’s not what it seems.”
“Right, right,” they said, snapping more shots.
The flashes blinded him and he covered his eyes. He turned to run out of there and half tripped over a chair. More flashbulbs. They’d probably say he was unsteady on his feet, and that he was off the wagon again
He didn’t care, he just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. When he got safely in his car, he gripped the steering wheel and tried to catch his breath.
I stepped right into it, was all he could think. What a stupid mistake. On the drive home, he could see how perfectly she’d set him up. Would anyone believe him?
Ryan woke extra early the next morning to take a long walk and try to shake off his tension and anger out from the night before. Now in the kitchen, he pounded the garlic with the knife harder than he needed to. Whatever Peyton had planned was bound to materialize into trouble soon. Last night he’d tried to write the whole scene off in his head, tell himself no one would pay attention. But that hadn’t worked at all. Then he’d paced his living room floor for half an hour trying to figure things out before knocking on Jude’s door. He knew the best thing to do would be to tell her the truth about everything. But in the end, his feelings of shame had got the better of him. Maybe things wouldn’t look so bleak in the morning. It would be better to talk to her in the light of day when he had a better perspective on things.
Ryan also didn’t want to do anything else that might play into Peyton’s scheme. What would he say to Jude? “I saw Peyton last night in order to clear the air between us, to end things once and for all. But she set me up with flowers and wine and candles. She even had the paparazzi there to take pictures. But you have to believe me, it wasn’t what it seemed.” It sounded like a lame excuse even to his ears. He had to warn Jude, but he wasn’t sure if he could find the right words to make her understand. So far, when he’d tried to make things right between them, he’d only ended up making them worse. Everything between them was so fragile right now, and something like this could easily cause a break.
Ryan heard Lindsey tromping down the stairs. She was a good kid and had been a tremendous help with the cookbook, and her photography of the food was beautiful. It had actually been quite fun working together.
Lindsey peered into the kitchen. “Morning, Ryan. I think you might be in the doghouse.”
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He dropped the knife on the counter and whirled around. “What?
“Hey, don’t blame me. I’m just the messenger,” Lindsey said.
She hopped on a bar stool, flipped her hair out of her eyes, and waited for a response. Ryan weighed his options.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Lindsey held up her iPhone. “Uh, do you ever go on Twitter?”
Breakfast flipped in his stomach. “Sometimes. Why?”
“Well,” she said, pausing and obviously enjoying the moment, “you’re trending there right now.”
“Show me,” Ryan said. He moved behind her to get a better view of the screen.
“All right, just give me a minute to pull it up on my phone.”
Ryan leaned on the kitchen island, while Lindsey connected to her Twitter account. She held the screen to him. “There you go. See,” she pointed. “Pictures of you and Peyton.”
He wasn’t sure what stung most, the rumors or being called a has-been chef. Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes. The pictures, the way they doctored them, him and Peyton at the café, beautiful flowers, wine, Peyton kissing him on the side of the head. The headline said, “Are they back together? What will her husband say?”
She started reading some of the tweets. “Old flame and actress back together? “Actress cheats on famous husband with country chef.”
“What?! Stop right there,” Ryan said. “That’s not true.”
Lindsey’s eyebrow shot up. “Really? It doesn’t look that way.”
The disappointment on Lindsey’s face left no doubt about what she believed. “I’ve seen enough. Close the phone.” He didn’t know what to say. He stepped back and looked at Lindsey. “How many people are going to see this?”
“Uh, lots,” Lindsey said. “Well, it’s definitely trending and there are already over 3000 tweets on the topic.”
Ryan felt himself sway, his balance off, a fall inevitable. He grabbed the kitchen counter, knuckles white, and held tight. It was like the old nightmare starting all over again, the publicity, the press. And Jude, what would Jude say?
Lindsey’s eyes never left him.
“So, now what?” he asked. “More people will see it?”
“I guess so,” she said. “What were you doing with Peyton? I thought you were seeing my mom.”
“I love your mother,” Ryan said. “Peyton set me up.”
“Oh, I see,” Lindsey said, not really looking like she saw at all. “Well, whatever. You’ve got some explaining to do to my mom.”
“I know,” Ryan said. “I planned to today. I hope she doesn’t see this first.”
Lindsey hopped down off the barstool. “Don’t count on that,” she said. “The gossip columns are probably going to jump all over this, and Facebook is already full of pictures. Hopefully it won’t hit YouTube. Did they take videos?”
He prayed not. “I never thought . . .”
“Maybe you should have done some of that before you met with Peyton.”
“You don’t know what really happened,” Ryan said.
“I understand more than you think. Both you and my mom are messed up.” She went over to the sink, washed her hands, and then tied on an apron. “Someone better get working today.”
Ryan wanted to try to explain, but what could he say? In time, he would make sure both Lindsey and Jude got a full explanation, but for now he had to find Jude and tell her what was happening.
“Do you think you can finish everything here?” he asked.
Lindsey nodded. “It’s okay. Sierra will be here soon, so we’ll be fine. Go do whatever you have to, and good luck with that.”
Ryan looked around in the dining room to see if Jude had come down yet. Luckily, she hadn’t. He dreaded talking to her. Maybe it meant she was still upstairs, reading about the mess he’d stepped right into last night. He thought about the headlines. “Actress divorcing famous actor husband Todd Chase.” That had to be it. She darn well wouldn’t want Ryan back. That certainly wasn’t it at all. He was just a casualty of war, indispensable in Peyton’s plan to win her husband back. He thought about the look in Lindsey’s eyes. She was hurt too, but at least she told him about it.
This was not the time to be waiting around, hoping and worrying. He needed to take responsibility for what happened and tell Jude before she found out on her own. Ryan walked upstairs, heart pounding, and tapped lightly on Jude’s door. “Are you awake?” he said. He waited a few minutes until Jude opened the door. She still looked a little sleepy. “Can I come in?” he asked.
Jude wiped her eyes and glanced down at her nightgown. “Is something wrong? Is Lindsey okay?”
“Lindsey’s fine,” Ryan said, “and I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.” He knew they’d called a truce and were on better terms, but the strain on their relationship lately had been heavy. He felt terrible, and this was only going to make it worse. It seemed like everything around him was falling apart, and he couldn’t quite hold it together. Ever since Peyton hit the island, his life had gone right back downhill again. And everything he’d hoped and dreamed of was going right down with it, as it always had with Peyton Chandler.
Ryan walked over to the picture window. As with so many mornings, another beautiful sunrise was peeking over the Cascade Mountains. The cove glistened in pinks, punctuated with drops of gold. The water was so clear he could see the mussel shells and rocks on the bottom. A lone blue heron stood on one leg, waiting to catch breakfast. Paradise and hell could be so close sometimes. He could feel Jude standing behind him, and he hesitated before he turned to face her.
“So, what is it that’s so important?”
Ryan turned to face her. “You might want to sit down, Jude,” he said. The look on her face shattered him. He would’ve done anything to avoid this. He wanted to kick himself for ever choosing to meet with Peyton, even though his intentions had been good. It probably wouldn’t have mattered, because Peyton would have found another way to get what she wanted, and it might have been worse. At least he knew what he was fighting against now.
Jude walked over and sat down on a stool at the marble counter separating her kitchen from the living area. Ryan sat down next to her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her forever. He released a sigh. “You know how we talked about my past with Peyton?”
“I know,” she said. “You told me already. Why are we going over this again?
Her eyes pierced right through him. “You told me everything, right?”
“Honestly, I did. But Peyton had more of an agenda than I knew, and she maneuvered me into meeting her last night . . .”
Jude leaned back and raised her hands in front of herself in a protection mode. “Just stop right there,” she said. “I’ve had about enough of your secrets and enough of everything else.”
Ryan stood. “I can understand you feel that way, but you need to know, Jude, there are going to be some deceptive report coming out in the media.”
Jude tried to stand but he blocked her way. The kindest thing he could do was be the first to tell her. “Last night, Peyton demanded that I meet her at the Captain’s Inn.”
“Demanded,” Jude said.
“It’s a long story. That’s what I am trying to tell you.”
“Just tell me the results.” Jude folded her arms across her chest.
“It seems that Peyton had arranged for some paparazzi to be there. They took pictures of us. She’d set the scene with wine and flowers and then leaned over and—”
“Stop,” Jude said, “I told you I didn’t want to hear anymore.”
“I’m sorry. It’s all over the news,” Ryan said. “Lindsey told me I’m trending on Twitter. You’re going to hear about it. There are lies splashed across the media saying actress and chef back together. Is she getting a divorce?”
Jude stood. “I can’
t keep up with you two any more.” She pushed past him and walked over and opened the door to her place. “And now, if you would kindly get downstairs and do your job.”
Ryan walked slowly toward the door. He glanced back at her, but the look on her face said it all. He didn’t have a chance. He stepped out on the landing and Jude slammed the door behind him. His whole body was shaking. Somehow he made his way down the stairs back to the kitchen. It was going to be a long day. But he was not going to let Peyton Chandler ruin his life or Jude’s, no matter what it took.
Chapter Seventeen
Grandpa John leaned back into his well-loved recliner and placed his coffee mug on the end table beside him. It had been quite a morning already, and it was only 8:00. Jude had called his farmhouse about an hour ago and was very upset. He hadn’t completely understood their brief conversation before he handed the phone to Lily, but enough to know it was not good. That boy Ryan seemed to be stepping in trouble no matter where he turned. It was the last day of the shooting for the movie, and his grandson, Jason, had a small speaking part today. Lily was supposed to have taken him into town, but she’d reacted to the emergency call to meet with Jude, and he’d stepped in happily to take Jason instead. Ian was busy with the never-ending guests and movie crew coming and going at the B&B, so he’d promised both of Jason’s parents not to worry, he’d watch him all day.
“Let’s go, Grandpa, we have a 9:00 call.”
Jason put out his hand and dragged his grandpa off the recliner.
“Slow down kid, let me get my keys.” Jason had shot up in the last few months and enthusiastically stepped up to the job of big brother quite well. He loved watching Jason hold little Gwyn carefully in his arms, as if any wrong motion would cause his sister to break.
They went over Jason’s line one more time in the car. They had rehearsed the scene about ten times already, with Jason running down the hill behind his farm yelling, “It’s coming! It’s coming!” Those were his two lines, but he would get paid well for them. When they arrived in town, he parked in the cast & crew lot on the grassy field behind the library. They walked down and checked Jason in for the day, and then Grandpa John happily took a seat on a bench in the shade.
