Carly cleared her throat gently. “Is everything okay?”
A pause hiccupped between them, filling the air with unease before her mother answered. “It would be, if you’d come home to work things out with Travis.”
Wow. She’d walked right into that one, hadn’t she?
“We’ve been through this before. I’m not getting back together with Travis.” In an effort to avoid the subject entirely with her mother, Carly had purposely kept the most sordid details of her divorce mum from her family. Hashing them out wouldn’t change the whole breaking-a-sacrament thing in her mother’s eyes anyway. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Pssht! You’re too stubborn for your own good. He wants to make things right, Carly. He told me himself. Why can’t you at least give him a chance?”
Heat bubbled through Carly’s veins like a bottle of champagne that had seen one shake too many. “Because there’s no point.” Maybe if she kept it short and simple, her mother would relent.
“No point! He loves you,” her mama accused.
Carly should’ve known better about her mother easing up. “Travis loved my skills as a chef, Mama. He loved my marketability. And as soon as he was done using them to climb the career ladder, he cheated on me. The only person he loves is himself.”
“You’re being dramatic. If you’re having trouble, you could go to counseling. But divorce? It’s so final.”
If only. “I’m being realistic, not dramatic. This is the best thing for me.”
“You’re not giving it a chance. If you’d just—”
“No.” The tension in Carly’s chest shoved her words out on an angry tide. “I’m done talking about this. I don’t care what Travis says, or what you think. It’s not up for debate. It’s my life, Ma, and you need to butt out so I can live it!”
Silence snapped over the phone line in a hiss of white noise before her mother took a deep breath. “Well. Since there’s nothing to say, I’ll hang up now.”
Carly pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, wishing she could reel her harsh words back in for a do-over. Her mother’s intentions were good, and this bullshit with Travis wasn’t worth the bad blood. “Look, I—”
“Oh, no. You’ve made it clear you don’t need me or my opinion. Good-bye, Carlotta.”
The phone clicked once and went dead.
Carly stared at the phone for a full minute before replacing it hollowly on the charger. She and her mother had a history of butting heads, but it had never gotten this bad.
“You okay?” Sloane poked her head into the living space from the threshold of the hallway, concern on her porcelain features.
“Yes. No.” Carly thrust a hand through her hair, wincing. “My mother’s still pissed about Travis. She’ll get over it.” She silently added I hope to the end of her statement. God, Travis was slicker than snot to charm her own mother into believing he still loved her. The weasel.
“Oh, honey. You want me to make you a cup of tea? It’s still kind of early.” Sloane canted her head toward the kitchen, blue eyes offering reassurance.
Carly shook her head. “No, thanks.” She eyed the phone. Jackson was overseeing a kitchen remodel in one of the McMansions down by the lake, and was probably up to his tool belt in countertops and cabinetry right now. As much as she wanted to hear his voice, calling him was bound to interrupt his work day. She’d have to shoot for the next best thing. “I’m going to head to La Dolce Vita and mess with some recipes, maybe flesh out a few more details for this proposal before I turn it in at the end of the week.”
“Okay. Come find me if you change your mind, cucciola.”
Carly padded down the hall, the last glimmer of happiness from her early morning gone like smoke in a wind storm.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, or people will talk.” Adrian flashed a crooked, stubble-covered grin from the doorway to the kitchen, reaching up to turn his timeworn baseball hat around. Carly rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop a tiny grin from bubbling up on her lips.
“Ha-ha. Smartass.” She glanced up from the gremolata on her cutting board just long enough to pin him with a wry look.
“Better than being a dumbass. Man, those lamb shanks look all right.” Adrian came closer, turning his attention from the food to Carly just a little too fast for her to cover the stress of her morning. “You, on the other hand, look like shit.”
“For the record, that’s probably not the smartest thing to say to a woman holding a big, fat knife.” Carly finished chopping the parsley and garlic mixture and bent down to the lowboy to grab some lemon juice, but Adrian didn’t budge.
“Is Travis still giving you a hard time?” His words were dark and thick, like molasses that had been in the bottom of the jar too long.
“It’ll blow over.” She reached into the huge stockpot to give the lamb shanks a nudge with a wooden spoon. They’d been braising for an hour, and the savory aroma coming from the pot lifted the edge of Carly’s sour mood.
“He called me.”
The wooden spoon clattered to the floor tiles with a colorful splash of red wine reduction, but Carly barely noticed. “He what?”
A frown bent the corners of Adrian’s mouth, and he shifted his frame against the stainless steel counter of the work station in front of him. “He called me a couple of days ago. Tried to manipulate me into sweet-talking you back to him.”
“Jesus. What’d you say?”
Adrian’s hazel eyes flashed with a hint of satisfaction as he arched a brow toward the brim of his baseball cap. “I told him to fuck straight off and hung up on his sorry ass, just like I did when I left Gracie’s to come here with you.”
Carly blinked, still in shock. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you keep getting dragged into this mess.” God, Travis’s audacity knew no bounds!
“It’s not your fault, Carly. But he’s getting desperate. You ever stop to think about his ulterior motives?” Adrian moved over to the sink at the back of the kitchen to wash his hands, but his attention never left her.
“What ulterior motives could he possibly have, other than to make my life a living hell just because he can?” Carly released a heavy sigh into the stockpot. Would this emotional carousel ever stop spinning?
“I don’t know, gnocchella. You tell me. Because something about this doesn’t sit right.”
Carly’s frown was interrupted by the huff of the swinging doors leading out to the dining room. Gavin, the restaurant manager, tipped his chin at Carly in a serious nod.
“There’s someone here to see you. I told him you were prepping for the day, but he insisted.” A cool look covered Gavin’s features, and Carly’s heart jackhammered in her chest.
“Do you know who it is?”
“Huge guy, says you’re working together on a project. Do you want me to tell him you’re busy?”
The jackhammer in her ribcage turned gleeful. “No, that’s Jackson. You can send him back.” Carly ran a surreptitious hand over her braid while Gavin disappeared through the doors, eyebrows lifted.
“You’re letting a stranger come into the kitchen?” Adrian’s jaw was somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. “Have you lost your mind?”
“We’re not open, relax. Plus, he’s not a stranger. He’s—” Carly stopped short at the sound of the doors thunking open. Jackson peered into the kitchen with uncertainty, but his blue eyes crinkled when he saw her. Carly had never been so happy to lay eyes on someone in her whole life.
“Hey. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I came out to take some more pictures of the proposed garden site for Luke and I saw your car in the lot. I don’t want to bother you, though.” Jackson’s eyes skimmed over Adrian, who had stiffened into watchdog status at her side.
Carly laughed and made her way over to him like she was a magnet and he was crafted of solid steel. “Don’t be silly. We’re not open for hours.” Instinctively, she lifted up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. After
a stutter-step of surprise, he returned the favor, and Carly felt her crappy morning recede into bad-memory territory. “Come on in.”
“Wow, it smells great in here,” Jackson murmured, wearing his trademark easygoing smile. Adrian folded his arms over his barrel chest, and Carly bit down on her lip. Maybe that kiss hadn’t been the best idea right off the bat, but Adrian would just have to suck it up.
“Jackson, this is my sous chef, Adrian Holt. Adrian, Jackson Carter. He’s the contractor I told you about.” Of course she’d failed to mention the whole I’m-sleeping-with-him thing, which she’d known would ruffle Adrian’s big-brother-esque feathers.
Jackson extended a hand. “Good to meet you, man. Carly’s told me a lot about you.”
Testosterone prickled through the air as Adrian gave Jackson a once-over before shaking his hand. “Looks like she hasn’t told me enough about you.” Their eyes locked, neither man making a move, but neither one standing down, either.
Carly rolled her eyes and angled her body between them, putting a hand on Adrian’s forearm. “Behave, gnoccone. He’s fine.” She pasted a sweet smile on her face, a clear sign she meant to kill him later, and turned toward Jackson. “Are you hungry? I can make a batch of calamari and we can go over the final plans. I’d love to incorporate the new photos in the presentation.”
Jackson’s eyes flicked a hard glance over Adrian, but he relented with a nod and smile. “Sure. That sounds great. I’ll just go grab the camera from the truck.”
“I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
“Okay.” Jackson paused, giving Adrian one last look before passing through the swinging doors. Carly ducked down to retrieve some ingredients from the lowboy, but Adrian caught her by the elbow, midcrouch.
“I’ve got this.” His voice was gruff, but his eyes flashed with sincerity.
She creased her brows. “Are you sure?”
“Are you?” Genuine concern had replaced the hard edge to his words, and it made Carly’s lips twitch into a grin.
“It’s not serious,” she replied. “I’m fine. He’s fine.”
Adrian shook his head, but conceded nonetheless. “If you say so. But if you change your mind . . .”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Carly promised, putting a container of calamari on the counter. Wiping her hands on her apron, she turned to head into the dining room, but Gavin appeared in her path before she could get to the door. Although he was always serious, something about the troubled look in his eyes stopped Carly dead in her tracks.
“Whoa. You look like you just saw a ghost.”
A muscle in Gavin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lower his gaze. “There’s an urgent call for you on the house phone.”
Fear spurted through her brain, freezing her into place. “What? Who is it?”
“It’s your brother.”
Chapter Twenty-One
As soon as Jackson recrossed the stone-tiled threshold of La Dolce Vita, he knew something wasn’t right. Carly stood at the bar with the phone pressed to her ear, and although her back was to him, her shoulders slumped forward in a clear sign of nothing-good. Her sous chef stood right next to her, eyes full of the kind of wary concern that people only reserved for bad news. Jackson’s stomach knotted in unease, a feeling that shifted to out and out fear as soon as he heard Carly’s muffled sob.
“Okay, I’m coming. Just . . . tell her . . .” She broke off, presumably to take a breath, but her voice still shook as she finished her sentence. “Tell her I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the hospital. I love you, too, Dom.” She stood for a minute, unmoving, before lowering the phone to the bar in front of her.
“Carly? What’s going on?” For a big guy, her sous chef’s voice had gone awfully quiet. The look on Carly’s face nearly dropped Jackson’s knees out from beneath him, and her words matched her wooden expression.
“Dominic said . . .” She paused to squeeze her eyes shut before choking out the rest. “I think my mother had a stroke.”
Jackson moved without thinking, stepping in close. “God, Carly. I’m sorry.”
Carly’s eyes found his, flashing with a streak of intense emotion before going blank. “I, um. I have to go to New York. Right now.” Her voice was so shell-shocked, it sounded like an echo.
The thought of her making a drive like that after such horrible news all by herself put Jackson into high alert. “You shouldn’t go alone.” He dug into his pocket for his keys.
“He’s right.” Adrian agreed gruffly, although he didn’t look happy about it. “I’ll take you back.”
Jackson’s instincts growled to life, but the panicked look on Carly’s face stopped the choice obscenities in his head from rolling off his tongue.
“You can’t. I need you here.” Her eyes went wide, imploring, but Adrian didn’t budge.
“Screw here. The restaurant isn’t as important as getting you home.”
A muscle in Jackson’s jaw twitched hard, but he managed to bite down on his severe irritation. While the idea was appealing as hell, picking a fight with this guy wouldn’t help Carly right now.
“Adrian, please. Friday’s our busiest night, plus we’re booked all weekend. I need you in the back of the house, and I can’t leave unless I know everything here is taken care of.” Carly’s ragged plea cut Adrian’s protest to the quick, but he didn’t back down entirely.
“Okay, I’ll stay,” he agreed, clearly hating the concession. “But take Sloane.”
“Sloane’s on a deadline,” Carly argued, shaking her head. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself back to the city.”
Adrian frowned. “Carly—”
Jackson’s words were out of his mouth without thought. “I’ll take her.”
Both Adrian and Carly turned to stare at him, although with very different expressions.
“I’ll be fine.” There was zero fire in her argument, though, and Jackson refused to relent. No freaking way was he letting her make that drive all alone.
“Come on. Why don’t you call Sloane and ask her to pack you a bag so we can just swing by and grab it on our way down the mountain. With any luck, we’ll get to the city before rush hour gets nasty.”
For a second, Carly didn’t move, and Jackson mentally prepared round two of his defense. But then she gave a slow nod.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just be a second.”
The restaurant manager, who had been silently waiting nearby, passed her the phone without preamble, and Carly took it with a hollow glance and moved down the bar to call Sloane. Jackson palmed his keys, figuring he could call Luke from the road to let him know he’d be gone for a couple of days. Rescheduling that kitchen job by the lake would be tight, something Jackson would likely pay for with some twelve-hour days when he got back, but he didn’t care. He shifted to look at Carly, but the view was immediately blocked by the menacing glare of her sous chef.
“I don’t like this.”
Wow. Talk about throwing it all out there. Too bad for him that being intimidated wasn’t on Jackson’s agenda, no matter how big the guy was.
“I’m okay with that,” Jackson replied smoothly. Although he kept his tone purposely neutral, his meaning seemed to get through loud and clear. “Look, we can have a pissing contest over it when I get back. For now, I’m just worried about Carly, and I’m pretty sure you are too. So what do you say we skip the pleasantries, huh? She’ll be safe with me.”
Adrian served up a hard stare, and as much as Jackson hated to admit it, the guy looked junkyard-dog mean. Carly slipped a hand over her braid and passed the phone back to the manager, who murmured to her in a low, reassuring tone.
“If you mess with her, I will kill you with my bare hands. Are we clear?” Everything about the delivery of Adrian’s words told Jackson he meant what he said. Jackson narrowed his eyes, but didn’t consider flinching.
“Crystal.”
He turned on his heel to walk Carly out the door.
Jackson shifted his weight, tryi
ng for the billionth time to find a good fit between his frame and the driver’s seat of Carly’s Honda. His discomfort came in a distant second to his concern, though. One glance at Carly hammered his worry home.
Other than to punch the address of the hospital in Brooklyn into the GPS on her dashboard, she’d been completely still for the two hours they’d been in the car. He’d turned off the radio and encouraged her to close her eyes, maybe get some sleep, but she’d politely declined. Not wanting to up her stress level with small talk that would’ve been forced anyway, Jackson kept quiet. If Carly wanted to talk, she would. Her stony silence weighed on his mind like a pallet full of bricks.
“Looks like we’re about halfway there.” After two hours of nothing but the white noise of being on the road, Jackson’s words sounded amplified, but Carly didn’t flinch. She kept her eyes on the blur of trees outside her window as she nodded absently.
Finally, he asked, “Are you okay?” Hello, stupid question! Of course she wasn’t okay. Man, he was bad at this, but the look on her face was killing him, and he’d do anything to change it. Including ridiculous inquiries, apparently.
“I’m fine.”
He glanced at her for just a second, confused. “You’re fine?”
Carly tightened her fingers around her T-shirt, arms crossed over her chest as if she were protecting herself. “Yes, but if you need to stop, that’s okay.”
He shook his head, returning his eyes to the faded asphalt in front of them. “I don’t need to stop.” Silence rushed at Jackson’s ears for a few excruciating minutes before he continued. “I guess I meant do you want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t really know much, other than what I already told you.”
“Right. Your mother was having lunch with her church group, and she got really confused,” he prompted. Maybe talking about it would make her feel better. Wasn’t that what women did?
Gimme Some Sugar Page 23
