Wildest Dreams: Sweetbriar Cove: Book Seven

by Melody Grace

  The other women’s heads whipped around. “Wait, Declan?” Mackenzie asked, her voice rising. “Since when?”

  “We’re not . . . I mean . . .” Paige flushed, suddenly feeling on the spot.

  “They’ve just had a couple of dates,” Eliza answered for her. “It’s nothing serious, just a little fun.”

  Paige frowned, but the others were already gossiping their approval. “It would be fun, with Declan.” Summer gave a mischievous smile.

  “He’s like the perfect snack,” Mackenzie agreed. “Or what are those things you eat between courses at fancy dinners?”

  “Palate cleansers!” Brooke exclaimed.

  They laughed. “Exactly. He could make you forget a hundred bad dates,” Eliza said, “and then you’re refreshed and ready to move on to something real.”

  Paige shifted uncomfortably. She knew Declan had a reputation, and he probably deserved all of it, too. But it still felt wrong to be talking about him like this, like he was good for nothing more than a fling when she’d spent the night curled up blissfully in his arms.

  Luckily, baby Emma woke, took a breath, and let out a howl, interrupting them all.

  “That’s my cue,” Poppy said, reaching for her. She tugged her shirt open and draped a cloth over her shoulder. “Someone wants their own snack, isn’t that right?”

  The conversation moved on to parenting tips and Brooke’s own wedding plans, but Paige still felt that lingering discomfort, especially at the dismissive note in her sister’s voice. By the time Poppy called it a night and they all headed out, her guilt and misgivings had formed a dark cloud over her head.

  “That baby is the cutest, but I’m not having kids for another five years, at least.” Eliza chatted brightly as they left the house. “She’s so tired, she can barely see straight.”

  Paige didn’t reply. She walked ahead to the car, waiting for her sister to climb in the passenger seat before she started the engine.

  “But that cake was amazing,” Eliza continued. “Almost worth going through the agony of childbirth, just to have a slice.”

  Paige didn’t reply. She backed out of the parking space.

  “What’s going on with you?” Eliza asked. “You got all quiet in the end there. Broody already?”

  “Nope.”

  “Come on, what’s up. Are you mad at me?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I know you, and this is not fine.” Eliza gestured from head to toe. “This is you having an issue, but wanting to be polite and nice instead of just saying what’s on your mind. I’m your sister, remember? I know all your passive-aggressive tricks.”

  Paige exhaled. “I just didn’t like you talking about Declan like that.”

  “Like what? I was very complimentary,” Eliza replied. “I mean, with all the practice he’s had, the man should be an all-star in the bedroom department by now,” she quipped with a smile.

  “See, there you go again.”

  “What?” Eliza turned, and then her expression changed. “Oh, no, Paige!”

  “What?”

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “It’s not about that,” Paige replied briskly. “But he’s a good guy. You said it yourself, you encouraged me to go out with him.”

  “To have a hot, sexy fling, sure,” Eliza answered. “Not to fall in love!”

  “I’m not falling,” Paige insisted quickly. “But . . . would it really be so bad if I did?”

  “Yes!” Eliza exclaimed. “Have you forgotten the past, I don’t know, twenty-nine years of your life? You want a family. Marriage. Kids. You dream about a house full of people you can fuss over, and Declan is the single least likely guy to give you any of that. Come on, the closest he’ll ever come to fatherhood is dating college girls.”

  “Eliza.” Paige frowned.

  “What? It’s the truth, and you know it—otherwise you wouldn’t be getting all defensive and frowny,” her sister pointed out.

  Paige didn’t know what to say to that. Sure, Declan was the king of no-strings flings, but she’d gone into this with her eyes wide open.

  Why was she suddenly feeling so off-balance?

  She pulled over to drop Eliza off at the house. The lights were on, and she could see Cal in the front room, working on his computer. “Look, it’s fine,” she said, not wanting to make a fight out of it. “I’m just . . . dealing with a lot of change right now. Moving, the store . . .”

  Her sister sighed. “I know, and I’m trying to look out for you. If you fall for Declan, what then? Is he going to settle down, and build a life with you? Or are you going to wind up wasting your heart on a man who can’t ever give you what you need?”

  “He’s showing me things I’ve never felt before,” Paige said quietly. “How to take risks and be adventurous.”

  “And that’s all great,” Eliza agreed. “You deserve to have fun. But you’ve been hooking up with this guy for what, a week? And already you’re getting that look in your eyes when you even say his name.”

  “What look?”

  “The same look you got gazing at baby Emma,” Eliza noted. “And the problem is, one of those things is not compatible with the other.” She leaned over and gave Paige a quick hug. “Have fun, just . . . be careful, is all.”

  She got out of the car and headed up the front steps to the house. Cal opened the door before she could unlock it and greeted her with a kiss.

  Paige watched them, framed in the glow from the hall light. Cal said something and Eliza laughed, and then they disappeared inside, his arm slung around her shoulders.

  They were building a life together. Making plans for the future, talking marriage and everything that would come after. Paige had always thought it would be so simple for her: find a good man, and settle down, and soon she’d be the one hosting holiday dinners, with kids running wild underfoot. But after her father had died, she’d put a block on those dreams; picturing her future without him right there at the table had been too sad and painful to imagine. Maybe that’s why she’d focused on change instead: moving homes, changing jobs, leaving Doug behind. A whirlwind of activity, excitement, and new challenges, to make her feel like she was doing something bold with her life instead of letting it just drift by.

  But Eliza was right. Those dreams of a big, raucous family were still in the back of Paige’s mind. They hadn’t gone anywhere. And they weren’t getting any closer, either.

  Was it really so bad to explore this thing with Declan, knowing all along there was an expiration date for their time together? She could keep her feelings from blurring at the edges, couldn’t she?

  Or was she denying the truth: that for all the giddy rush, she was just asking for trouble.

  Asking to fall in love with a man who’d made it crystal clear he wouldn’t love her back.

  Paige swallowed back the lump in her throat and finally started the engine. She wouldn’t find the answer sitting there in the dark, and maybe she didn’t need one, not just yet. It was too good with Declan just to cut things short over some future hypotheticals. She was following her instincts for the first time in her life, and everything in her body was telling her, more.

  After all, she knew the rules, and if there was one thing she was good at, it was following them.

  No strings, no expectations. Nobody needed to get hurt.

  Right?

  14

  The restaurant was humming. Declan couldn’t remember it being so busy, even over the holiday weekend. He had every table full, a line out the door, and people jostling for space just to perch at the bar. They were already sold out of two of the specials and running low on two more, and it wasn’t even eight p.m.

  “Three fish, two sirloin on five!” One of his servers slammed down another ticket and wiped his sweaty brow with a dish towel. “And the party on six wants two of everything.”

  “Everything?” Declan repeated. He had a truffled lobster dish on the menu that went for over $100 a plate.

  �
��Yes, boss. They wanted to taste it all.”

  Declan scowled. He had no time for assholes like that. Sure, he’d make the cover price, but that meant a bite or two—and then the rest of the dish in the trash, going to waste.

  “What’s going on tonight?” he demanded. “Did every other kitchen on the Cape close with E. coli breakouts?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Jenny bustled past, trading a wine-splattered apron for a clean one. “You got a write up in Nosh Town.”

  Declan stared blankly.

  “The food blog? It’s the biggest thing around right now,” Jenny tutted at him. “Anyway, Alvin Nosh flipped over your stuff, and said you were as tasty as your dishes,” she added with a smirk.

  “I won’t argue with that,” Declan sighed, relaxing. “But couldn’t they have given me a heads up?”

  “Oh, the toil of popularity! But at least the tips tonight are insane.” Jenny sailed away, leaving Declan to coral the chaos in the kitchen.

  “Fire three fish, two sirloin, and the full enchilada!” he called out, to where his line cooks were already working at warp speed. Nights like this made him remember his own days as culinary cannon fodder, sweating in a steamy kitchen while the executive chef sipped wine out front with his biggest fans. But there was no time for sipping, not with the orders flying in, so Declan put his head down and cooked like his life depended on it, turning around plate after plate of delicious food until finally, hours later, things began to empty out.

  “Remind me to order double from the wholesalers, if it’s going to be like this for the rest of the week,” he said with an exhausted sigh.

  “Will do. And table six wants a word, when you get a chance,” Hector said, swinging past with an armful of empty dishes.

  The high rollers.

  Declan stripped off his stained apron and pushed through the swinging doors into the dining room. It was late now, so the noise had faded out to cozy conversation, as people lingered over their dessert and the last of their bottles of wine. He took his time, greeting guests and chatting with familiar faces as he made his way back to where table six sat, private and nestled back behind the old fireplace, ready to give them a piece of his mind.

  “Declan, buddy, exceptional service. But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  Declan paused. “Rich Crawford,” he said, greeting the portly man presiding over the table. “When did you get in? You should have called, had a private tasting, instead of adding to the crush.”

  “And miss the chance to catch you in your natural habitat? Never.” Rich grinned. “Have you met Alvin here? The newest food blogger on the scene.”

  “Nosh Town, I wouldn’t miss it,” Declan said, sending silent thanks to Jenny for filling him in. “Thanks for the mention. As you can see, you had me run off my feet tonight.”

  “You flatter me.” Alvin was as thin and reedy as Rich was large. They made quite the double act, surrounded by dessert plates that had barely a bite missing. “Exquisite cooking, as ever. I look forward to seeing what you do next. Rich has been telling me all about your plans.”

  “Oh, has he now?” Declan chuckled. “Maybe he’ll fill me in too, one of these days.”

  He pulled up a chair and nodded to Kellan, behind the bar. “Whiskey?”

  “Why not?” Rich smiled.

  “So what brings you to town?” Declan asked, when they were all sipping on twenty-year-old scotch. He pulled over the plate of his famous cardamom and caramel soufflé. If it was going to waste, he might as well make use of it before the whole thing sunk.

  “I wondered if you’ve given any more thought to my proposal,” Rich replied.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Sure,” Rich chuckled. “All that surfing and chasing skirt takes up a lot of time.”

  Declan slowly sipped his whiskey. Rich was a character, but when it came to making superstar chefs, there was nobody better. With Rich’s backing, he’d seen mid-level guys with a couple of good dishes opening 10,000-square-foot destination restaurants on the Vegas Strip, franchise locations nationwide, even go international. Rich knew how to package up a menu and a chef’s personality and make an icon.

  And now he was sitting in Declan’s dining room, dangling who knew what on the table.

  So, the guy could get a little annoying. He’d earned that right with his first hundred million.

  “What did you have in mind?” Declan asked, playing it cool.

  “How big do you want to go?” Rich shot back. “I could sit here and pitch you a New York location, or an LA pop-up, but come on. I know Declan Nash, and he goes big, and then he goes home with the hottest girl in the room.”

  They laughed, and Declan gave a wry grin. “So, you don’t want to take Sage nationwide?”

  “No, I want to take you global.” Rich leaned forward. “It’s time for a new generation of celebrity chefs. Bobby Flay, Giada, they’re old news. You’re where the future lies. You’re young, hot, a social media star—”

  “Even though you don’t even have a twitter account,” Alvin added, glancing up from his phone.

  “And my cooking?” Declan asked, amused.

  “Well, that doesn’t suck, either.”

  “We’d launch on three levels,” Rich added, leaning in. “New Sage outlets in five major markets, a flagship Vegas experience, and a retail line.”

  “Of what?” Declan blinked.

  “Anything you like.” Rich shrugged. “Sauces, pasta, dessert. The point is, we build the Declan Nash brand. Cookbooks, TV segments . . .”

  “A web series and 360 social media presence,” Alvin added.

  Rich nodded. “That’s where he comes in,” he said, nodding to Alvin.

  “Our data shows you have big name recognition among millennials. Likeability across the board, that’s money right there.”

  Declan took another gulp of his whiskey. He didn’t understand half the things this blogger was saying, but it seemed to have Rich excited, alright.

  “We would build an empire,” Rich said, totally serious. “I’m telling you, in five years, you won’t be able to walk down the street without getting mobbed.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?” Declan asked wryly.

  “Whichever you want it to be.” Rich grinned. “And you’re the guy to make it happen.”

  Declan paused, thoughtful. It was the offer of a lifetime. The kind of opportunity he couldn’t have imagined as a kid starting out—sweeping the kitchen floors and peeling potatoes, crashing on friends’ couches to get by. For a moment, he thought of his father, and wished the old man was sitting at that table right now, hearing just how far Declan had come. “When do you want an answer?”

  “I didn’t think it was a question,” Rich chuckled. Declan gave a smile.

  “It’s a big commitment, what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, but you’d be calling the shots—with my expert advice, of course.”

  “Of course,” Declan echoed.

  “So what do you say?” Rich looked at him expectantly. “Is it worth nailing down some details? Or should I go to the next guy on my list?”

  Of course he had a list. Declan wasn’t arrogant enough to think he was the only young chef who could spearhead a game plan like this.

  But still, he was top choice, and that felt pretty damn good.

  “Let’s keep talking.” He nodded with a smile. “It has potential.”

  “Damn straight, it does.” Rich emptied his glass and gestured for another. “I’m telling you, Nash. This is the next step for you. Coast to coast, the big leagues. Sure, this place is charming and all, but I know guys like you, and you don’t settle for a small-fry operation like this. You want to own something, get your name up in lights. And we’re going to do just that.”

  * * *

  Declan finished his drink with Rich and headed back to the kitchen to close out for the night, thinking about his offer. From anyone else, it would be hot air and bluster, but Rich knew the score. He may
not be on the covers of any magazines or have his name above the door, but anyone who worked in the restaurant trade for five minutes knew that Rich was a force to be reckoned with. Power broker. King-maker.

  And now he was offering Declan the crown.

  It was definitely a tempting proposition; hell, it was the kind of thing any chef dreamed about, if they wanted to make it big. So why wasn’t he leaping in head first?

  Declan pondered it, his initial excitement over the offer tempered with a healthy dose of caution now. Maybe he was just being smart, waiting for all the details before he got carried away, or maybe he was getting sentimental about his “small-fry operation,” after all. Sage would stay open, of course, but he’d be stepping down from the day-to-day operations—hand off to a different head chef, and just check in to approve menus and make sure everything was running smoothly.

  He’d be busy, bouncing between half a dozen different cities, doing press and openings, living out of hotel rooms while this empire Rich was promising got off the ground. It would be nothing new to Declan, after ten years living out of a duffel bag—but he was guessing the suites would be a hell of a lot nicer than the dodgy hostels he’d seen, from Bangkok to Belarus.

  It would be challenging, exciting, something new. And it would mean leaving Sweetbriar Cove behind for good.

  If you’d asked him a couple of months ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice. But now? The place was growing on him. Cal had settled down, he had some good buddies in town, and the constant shenanigans had their charm . . .

  So did Paige.

  Declan shook off the thought. She had nothing to do with this. And since when did he let a woman affect his thinking?

  He finished up at the restaurant after midnight and drove the short distance back to his condo, ready to jump in the shower and call it a night. He’d just stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, when his phone buzzed.

  Are you home?

  It was her. Declan ignored the way his blood surged, just at the few words on his screen. He tapped out a quick reply. Just got back, ready to crash.

  So I shouldn’t ring the buzzer?