Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1)

by Barbara Freethy

  Tuesday morning, after taking the day off work at the diner, she got up early and drove an hour out of town to buy fresh produce from a local farmer, then she hit up the Eagle's Ridge markets for her other ingredients. She was going to make a four-course dinner for the Westbrooks, and it had to knock their socks off.

  At two o'clock, Ryder picked her up and drove her to his grandfather's house.

  As she got out of the Jeep, she was a bit amazed by the sheer magnificence of the home and was reminded once again that she and Ryder had grown up on very different sides of the river.

  "It's beautiful," she said. "Sometimes I forget how much wealth your family has."

  "It goes back many generations."

  "I can't imagine living in a house so big. How many rooms are there?"

  "About a dozen. There are six bedrooms and seven baths, plus formal living and dining rooms, a den, an upstairs family room, the kitchen, and some other random bonus rooms."

  "It seems a little big for the size of your family."

  "It is big. But the Westbrooks like space. It makes not talking to each other a lot easier." He took two grocery bags out of the back of the jeep and handed them to her, then grabbed the rest of the bags. "We'll go in through the kitchen."

  "I have to admit I'm feeling nervous, Ryder. I'm sure your grandfather has had some of the best chefs in the world cook for him."

  He gave her a reassuring smile as they walked down the drive. "Just do what you do, Bailey. It will be perfect."

  "It has to be—for a lot of reasons."

  "I know, but I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't believe in you."

  "So, where is your mom?"

  "She's having a spa day, my gift to her and my aunt. Those would be the two people most likely to get in your way. They're going to be tied up for the next few hours with massages, facials, manicures, and pedicures."

  "That sounds great but that can't possibly last until dinner. What happens when your mother gets back? I don't want her to kick me out of the kitchen."

  "She won't. I'm picking her up from the spa, and I'll do my best to keep her out of your way. But even if she figures out you're the chef before dinner, it will be too late for her to do anything about it. She won't risk Grandfather's birthday dinner by sending away the only chef we have."

  He was probably right, but she'd prefer not to deal with his mother at all.

  "By the way, have you heard from your grandfather?" Ryder asked.

  "No, I'm sorry." She gave him an apologetic look. "I was so busy yesterday with menu planning and working; I didn't get a chance to talk to him."

  "It's fine. He said he was thinking about it. I guess no answer is better than a negative one."

  "We'll get an answer tomorrow." She really didn't know what her grandfather was going to do. But they'd made as good of a case as they could.

  As Ryder juggled the bags in his hands to open the back door, a crack of thunder rocked the air. She looked up overhead as the day's earlier swirling clouds grew dark and more ominous. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, and rain began to fall as they made their way into a mud room off the kitchen.

  "I hope the storm isn't a bad sign of things to come," she muttered.

  "There are no bad signs, and everything is going to go well today," he returned.

  She was normally quite confident when it came to cooking, but today her nerves tightened and tingled as she walked into the kitchen. The sheer size of it took her breath away. Everywhere she looked, she saw marble-covered counter space with shiny appliances, glass-paned cabinets revealing stemware and china, a double oven and a stove with twelve burners, along with an enormous refrigerator.

  She spun around in delight. "This is amazing."

  Ryder laughed. "You look like a kid in a candy store."

  "I feel that way. This kitchen is as nice as any gourmet restaurant I've worked in." She paused as the door opened and a woman came into the room.

  She was older, short, and petite, with straight dark hair to her shoulders, almond-shaped dark eyes, and a friendly smile.

  "Hello," she said. "I'm Leticia."

  "Bailey Tucker."

  "It's nice to meet you. I hope you have everything you need here."

  "I can't imagine that I wouldn't. This kitchen is beautiful."

  "Far bigger and more sophisticated than I've ever required," Leticia said. "Feel free to use whatever you like. I won't get in your way, but I will be around if you have questions or need help."

  "Thanks. I have two servers coming at five. I told them to come around to the kitchen door." She'd asked her dad for some names of people who might be willing to help serve dinner and was thrilled that they'd been available for the party.

  "That's fine."

  "Where's Grandfather?" Ryder asked.

  "He's taking his afternoon nap," Leticia replied. "And your father is at the office. No one should bother Bailey for now, but I make no guarantees for when your mother gets home."

  "I'm picking her up from the spa at five," he said. "I'm going to stall her as long as I can."

  "Good luck," Leticia said with a smile. "To both of you. I'll be back to check on you, Bailey."

  As Leticia left, Ryder moved across the room and slid his arms around her waist. "Do you want me to stay and help you? I've proved I can chop vegetables."

  His touch was already stirring her senses, which meant there was only one answer to that question. "No, thanks. You are way too big of a distraction. I need to concentrate."

  He gave her a quick, teasing kiss. "Fine, but I missed you last night."

  "You've seen me almost every day."

  "And yet it isn't enough."

  Remarkably, she felt exactly the same way.

  He kissed her again, and this time he lingered, his mouth steamy and hot, and she wanted to take a minute to just melt into all that delicious warmth. But she forced herself to push him away. "Go, Ryder. Let me cook. I have a lot to do."

  "What are you making?"

  "All of your grandfather's favorites from the restaurants he went to in Paris with Veronica, some of which appeared on her menu, but I'm adding my own spin. I'm going to start the meal with a potato leek soup, followed by a roasted beet and orange salad. For the main course, I'm doing an herb crusted lamb with grapes, bitter lettuces, a chestnut confiture and black walnut jus. With the lamb, I'll be serving a couscous salad with cucumber and red onion and some roasted Brussels sprouts. For dessert, I have the trickiest dish of all, a chocolate soufflé."

  "Wow. I'm impressed."

  "Wait until I pull it off. Then be impressed."

  "It's going to be delicious."

  She liked the confidence he had in her. "I hope so."

  "I'll see you later."

  As Ryder left, she unpacked her grocery bags and got to work.

  * * *

  "I don't know why you have to drive a Jeep," his mother complained as Ryder drove her home from the spa. "It's so—ugly."

  "I like it."

  He glanced over at her, seeing tension in her face despite the past few hours of pampering. "I thought you'd be more relaxed after your day."

  She let out a sigh. "I'm worried about the party and this mystery chef of yours."

  "You don't have to worry, and you also don't need to go into the kitchen," he added, as he pulled up in front of the house and parked the Jeep in the drive. "Can you just relax, get dressed, be the hostess, and let my chef handle everything else?"

  "I don't know."

  "Please, Mom. I need you to trust that I won't let you down."

  "I know what's happening, Ryder."

  "What do you know?" he asked carefully.

  "It's that Tucker girl. She's cooking, isn't she?"

  He hadn't expected his mother to guess so accurately. On the other hand, he and Bailey had made quite a scene at No Man's Land on Sunday. There was no doubt there were rumors going around about them. "Yes," he said, choosing not to tell her a lie. At this point, he had to hope s
he'd let things ride.

  "I knew it. Catherine said that you're dating her and that she was probably the chef you'd hired. But I didn't think you'd bring her into your grandfather's house." His mother shook her head, clearly upset. "If your grandfather finds out, he won't even come down for dinner. What possessed you to do this?"

  "I want to end the feud between our families."

  "On John's birthday?"

  "What better day to start over?"

  "I can think of 364 other days. Or maybe you just wait a few years. John is an old man. Why do you want to make him unhappy now?"

  "I don't want to make him unhappy. I want him to let go of the hatred in his heart for people he doesn’t even know."

  "We know the Tuckers; it's not just John and Max who had problems. Sam and your father dusted things up a few times. And your aunt and uncle—they've had their problems with the Tuckers, too."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know off the top of my head."

  "Is that because maybe some of the problems are exaggerated, part of our family lore?"

  "Look, I know you want the runway land, but I don't see how Bailey cooking for your grandfather is going to change anything with that. And I doubt Max would want her in our house any more than John does."

  "Well, I want her there."

  She stared back at him. "So, you are involved with her."

  "I am. And I don't care what her last name is. She's a beautiful, intelligent, capable woman and a brilliant chef, and I want you to see that about her."

  "How can I see that when I'm not allowed in the kitchen?" she asked tartly.

  "You can meet her after dinner."

  "Then this is all about us meeting her?"

  "Not completely," he admitted. "I want Grandfather to lease Veronica's to Bailey so she can start her own restaurant there."

  His mother's jaw dropped. "My goodness, Ryder. You are full of ideas, and they're all bad."

  "You can't say I'm not consistent," he said lightly.

  "It's not funny. Why do you have to shake everything up? Things are good the way they are."

  "Are they good?" he challenged. "We've barely spoken since I got home and I've had even fewer conversations with Dad, who seems to be traveling a great deal of the time."

  "Your father and I are fine. He has business elsewhere. And you've been busy; so have I. Founders' Day weekend is always a crazy time."

  "It's not this time. It's always. You and I haven't had a relationship since Charlie died."

  Her face paled. "How dare you bring up his name?" She put her hand on the door. "I am not having this conversation."

  "Stop," he said forcefully. "We have to have this conversation or we're never going to break down this wall between us."

  "There's no wall. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "I'm talking about being the one who had to be everything his brother couldn't be, and it still wasn't enough. I couldn't make you happy. I couldn't put the smile back on your face, and when I joined the Navy, you couldn't even say good-bye."

  "I didn't want you to join the Navy. I didn't want anything to happen to you."

  "You never seemed to worry. I barely heard from you."

  "I didn't want to know what you were doing. It was easier. If I didn't know where you were, I couldn't worry. I couldn't think about the possibility that I would lose another son. It was too hard."

  It was the most honest and revealing statement she'd ever said to him.

  "I loved Charlie, too," he said quietly. "I wish he hadn't died. I wish you hadn't had to go through that pain. I wish I could have made it better."

  She blinked back tears that seemed to shock her as much as they did him. He couldn't remember seeing her cry, not since the day they'd buried Charlie.

  "I—I," she stumbled. "I'm sorry. I know I wasn't the best mother in the world. But you didn't need me. You did good without me. You were smart and strong and successful in everything you did."

  "I knew you couldn't take any more disappointment."

  She swallowed hard. "Why are we talking about this now?"

  "Because it's why I came home. My helo was shot down, and I didn't know if I'd survive the crash or what waited below, and the strangest things came into my mind in those brief seconds of uncertainty."

  "What kind of things?"

  "Home. You. Dad. Grandfather, this town. I had always avoided coming back here. I thought I was done with Eagle's Ridge. I'd given up on having a family who could actually talk to each other. But I found myself wanting another chance. When it came time to re-up, I decided not to. I needed to come home. Unfortunately, it's taken me this long to get up the courage to speak to you. You're not an easy person to approach. You have a lot of armor on. But life is short. I knew I had to take one more shot at bringing my family back together."

  She stared at him with dark, confused, sad, helpless eyes. "Oh, Ryder, I don't know what to say. I guess I do have armor on. But it wasn't meant to keep you away; it was just meant to protect what was left of my heart after…"

  "You can say his name, Mom."

  "I really can't," she breathed.

  "Okay, you don't have to. You don't have to say anything."

  "I've never been good at talking about things that bother me."

  "I know."

  "I'm sorry if I hurt you. You're my son. I love you."

  He couldn't remember when or if she'd ever actually told him that before. "I love you, too," he said, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

  "I'm glad you came back. I'm also glad I didn't know about the crash."

  He smiled at that. "That's why I didn't tell you until now."

  "We'll keep talking," she said. "But not tonight. The family will be coming over, and it's your grandfather's birthday."

  "I understand."

  "I do have one more thing to say, though," she said.

  "What's that?"

  "This dinner better be magnificent."

  "Bailey won't let us down."

  His mother shook her head in confusion. "You couldn't find anyone else in this town to like? It has to be her?"

  "I'm afraid it does."

  "Is she even staying here? I thought she lived in New York?"

  "She did, but she'd like to stay." As he said the words, he really hoped they were true. But everything had been happening so fast.

  Was Bailey's interest in Veronica's restaurant just an impulsive choice after the problems she'd faced in New York? Would she really be happy running a restaurant in a small town after studying cooking in Paris, Italy, and Spain?

  He frowned as he followed his mother into the house, wishing he didn't have any doubts, but he couldn't deny that they were there. He was just going to do what his mother always did when something bothered her—he wasn't going to think about it. The future would come soon enough.

  Sixteen

  After watching his mother head up to her room, Ryder went into the kitchen where Bailey was whipping a knife through an onion. Her cheeks were red, her eyes a bright blue, and she looked a bit stressed.

  "I can't talk to you," she said, then paused, giving him a questioning look. "Unless you've come to tell me your mother is firing me?"

  "No, she's not firing you. She knows you're cooking and dinner is a go."

  "You told her?"

  "She guessed. My aunt said she heard we were seeing each other, and my mom put two and two together."

  "And she's okay with it?"

  "Okay might not be the right word, but she's going to let you do your thing, so you don't have to worry." He paused. "I also talked to her about Charlie."

  Bailey put down the knife, as she looked at him in surprise. "How did that go?"

  "Better than I thought. She didn't want to talk at first, but we had a few good moments. It's a small chip in the ice between us."

  "It sounds bigger than a small chip. I'm really happy for you, Ryder."

  He felt good that he'd finally decided to force the conve
rsation. "I don't know why it took me so long to talk to her."

  "It doesn't matter why. You did it, and it was a good thing."

  "We'll see. She opened up a little, but she might have slammed that door shut before she got up to her bedroom." As he inhaled, his stomach rumbled. "It smells good in here."

  "I hope it tastes as good. Everything is pretty much on track. The servers will be getting here soon. Dinner should be ready right at seven."

  "Great. I'm going to change. My mother insists we dress for these kinds of parties."

  "Like suit and tie?"

  "Exactly."

  "I'd like to see you all dressed up," she said with a smile. "Not that I don't like it when you're undressed."

  "Okay, now I have to kiss you. Don't stab me," he said, leaning across the counter to take a taste of her soft lips. "Hmm…you've been tasting the food—garlic, onion, some other herb?"

  "A lot of other herbs." She pushed him away with a bit of a flustered smile. He liked her flustered, and he had plans to make her a lot more so later on that night.

  "Shoo," she said. "I have to work."

  "I'm going." He headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to find a place to change.

  After a quick shower, he put on his suit and tie and then joined his family in the living room, deciding not to bother Bailey anymore. She knew what she was doing, and he had to just let her do it.

  "You look good, Ryder," his Aunt Catherine said, giving him a hug.

  "So, do you," he returned, noting her sleek black dress and perfectly made-up face that took at least ten years off her age.

  "How could I not after the wonderful day you treated your mother and me to?"

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

  As he moved past his aunt, he greeted his uncle Thomas and his great-aunt Margaret, his grandfather's younger sister. His dad offered to make him a vodka tonic which he gratefully accepted. Family parties always went better with a little vodka.

  His mother seemed to be almost through her first or second glass of wine, and she gave him a nervous, wary look, as if afraid of what he would say next. But she didn't have to worry. Tonight was all about his grandfather.