“Very flavorful. Best meal I’ve had in weeks.” Never mind that sandwiches and microwave dinners were her only competition.
She smiled wide. “I grated the Parmesan fresh.”
“It’s restaurant quality—really.”
“Thanks! I can’t wait to tell PJ you said that. She’s showing me how to make crème brulee tonight. She sings when she cooks, did you know that?”
His lips twitched. “No, I didn’t.”
“She should definitely try out for American Idol.”
“What?”
“She’d make it on TV for sure. She’s like tone-deaf or something. She’s so pretty though, don’t you think?”
He made a noncommittal sound.
“She should have a boyfriend. There’s this hot guy in her cooking class who keeps asking her out. I told her she should totally say yes.”
His chest tightened at her words. “What guy?”
“Alec something. He’s a fireman.” She waved a hand in front of her face as if she were on fire.
“He’s in her cooking class?”
“The bachelor one on Monday nights. Well, I gotta go to the store and get some stuff for tonight. See you!”
He wanted to call her back and pepper her with questions. Who was this Alec guy? Was PJ actually going out with him? Did she like him?
But there was one question he could only answer for himself: why did the thought of another man’s interest leech the flavor right out of the casserole?
Sometime later a dull, repetitive thud sounded from outside, and Cole went to the window. The unseasonably mild temperatures had melted off the snow and warmed up the air. Josh and PJ were shooting around toward the basket Cole had attached to the front of the shed.
PJ sank a long shot, and Josh threw his arm over his head. When Josh made the same shot, PJ gave him a fist bump. She looked cute in her puffy white coat, her long denim-encased legs making short work of the court.
She put up another shot, which Josh proceeded to miss. PJ did a victory dance, making Josh shake his head, though a grin tugged at his lips. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who hadn’t unpacked for a month. Cole knew better than to take responsibility for the change. They’d all played a part in making him feel like he belonged—even PJ.
He watched her as she playfully nudged the boy off the free-throw line. Maybe she couldn’t hold a note or sit still for two seconds, but she had a soft heart and a generous spirit. All the more reason to stay far, far away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE ANGRIER PJ WAS TOWARD COLE, THE LESS SHE’D WANT him. At least that’s what she told herself as she tasted the soupe au pistou the following week.
“Nice touch with the cloves, Callie.”
“Thank you, Chef.”
“One sirloin, one meatloaf, and three salmon, all day,” one of the servers called.
PJ pulled the filet from the oven. Perfect. She spooned on the béarnaise. “Callie, how’s the rice coming?”
“One minute, Chef.”
“Beth, tell the front to 86 the meatloaf special.”
“Yes, Chef.”
PJ put the sirloin into the oven and went to the walk-in for the salmon.
Where was it? She’d just bought it, had put it right here. “Callie, have you seen the salmon?”
“No, Chef.”
“It’s under the cod,” Nate called. “Sorry, Chef, I moved it.”
Everything was out of place. PJ put things back in order, working quickly. It wasn’t busy, but they were short in the back because Ella was down with the flu.
“Chef!”
At the same instant that Callie shrieked, the fire alarm screeched.
PJ turned to see fire shooting up from a pan on the stovetop, halfway to the ceiling. Nate grabbed the extinguisher, but the flame had already caught on a nearby towel and spread up the wall. She couldn’t believe how far it had gotten so quickly. Maybe the extinguisher would win, but maybe not. She couldn’t take the chance.
“I’m going to empty the place,” she called to Nate. “If you sense you’re losing, get outside!” PJ dialed 911 as she dashed into the dining room, where patrons sat in a state of confusion.
“Get everyone out,” she said quietly to the maitre d’. “Be quick and calm.”
The operator answered, and she gave the address as she ran up the stairs. Were the kids home? Cole? Surely they would’ve come out at the deafening alarm. She threw open doors as she dashed down the hall, but the rooms were empty.
“Cole!” she called, flying up the attic stairs. She threw open his door, but his room was empty too. By the time she came downstairs, smoke had filled the now-empty dining room.
Nate and Callie spilled into the foyer, breathing into their whites.
PJ coughed. “Get outside.” She darted past them toward the kitchen. She couldn’t let her dream go up in smoke.
“Where you going?” Nate called, but there was no time to answer.
Pool at Cappy’s had been a welcome distraction. Cole waved good-bye to Seth Murphy and got into the cold cab of his truck. Twice he’d nearly spilled about PJ, but he didn’t know Seth that well. Besides, the guy was married to Layla, who was sister to Beckett, who was married to PJ’s sister. He’d lived here long enough to know how things worked.
Besides, what was the point? Things were what they were. So he had feelings for PJ. Feelings that seemed to be growing despite the distance he’d put between them.
Just four months, Evans. Then it’ll be over, one way or another.
Would it, though? What if he won? He’d get to keep the house, but he’d have to watch PJ move out. Where would she go? What would she do? Go back to the fudge shop? What about the loans she’d taken out?
Not your worry. He pulled from the parking lot, his headlights cutting a path through the darkness.
You’re going to have to sort all this out, God. Heaven knew he was at his wits’ end.
He had to get a grip. He’d only known her nine months. Had only kissed her once. He couldn’t be that far gone.
Could he?
It had only been ten days, and he already missed her wide smile and sparkling eyes. They hadn’t been turned on him in a while. He hadn’t seen much of her at all, which was kind of the point. But he missed her. He lay in bed aching to tell her about his day. His fingers itched to run through that silky hair of hers, and his lips tingled with want of her.
And all because of one kiss.
One kiss? Who was he kidding? She’d been getting under his skin for months. He’d let himself get close to her, and look what had happened.
You’re a real idiot, Evans.
She needed someone who’d protect her. Someone who’d be there for her, root for her, not someone who’d let her down.
Someone better than you.
He eased onto Main and turned the heat down. Up ahead, red lights strobed the neighborhood. His eyes caught on the red fire engine parked near their house, and his heart waged a violent battle with his ribs. He pushed the pedal, zooming past the cars parked along the curb.
People milled outside the Wishing House, huddled against the cold. Smoke billowed from the back, where the kitchen was.
PJ.
He pulled to the curb and jumped out, sprinting toward the yard. His eyes scanned the crowd. The kids were out for the night, but where was PJ?
He caught sight of Callie, Nate, and the kitchen crew. “Where’s PJ?”
Nate shook his head. “She went back in.”
He drilled Nate with a glare. “You let her?”
“It’s not bad.” Callie’s hands fluttered around her face. “At least not yet. PJ’s trying to put it out. The fire department just went in.”
The wind nearly whipped away the last of her words as he rushed toward the house.
A middle-aged fireman stopped him at the porch steps. “Whoa, you can’t go in there, buddy.”
“PJ McKinley’s in there.”
The fireman faced h
im, legs spread. “I know. We’ll get her out.”
“This is my house.”
“Step back, please.”
Cole was just about to dart around the guy when a movement at the doorway caught his eyes.
PJ.
A fireman carried her. Her face was covered in soot, her clothes wet.
Cole shrugged out of his coat, tried to get to her, but the paunchy guard grabbed his arm. Cole stiffened, waiting impatiently until the other fireman and PJ neared.
PJ coughed twice. “Let me down, Alec.”
“Are you okay?” Cole set his coat around her shoulders as her feet hit the ground.
“I’m fine. The kids aren’t home. Everyone’s out.” She looked back at the house, her eyes watering. “But the house . . .”
“We’ll have it out in no time,” Alec said. “It’s almost out already.”
She coughed. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t care about the house,” Cole said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“She needs the EMTs,” Alec said. “Step aside.”
Cole let them go. Thank God she was okay. Thank God. The adrenaline surge drained away, leaving him weak and shaky.
PJ hunched against dawn’s chill as she climbed the porch steps. Ryan had heard about the fire first last night, being a volunteer, and news had spread quickly through her family. She’d received one frantic call after another until her parents had arrived to make sure she was okay.
She had spent the night at their house, though she hadn’t slept. From the empty curb, she assumed Cole and the kids had found somewhere else to stay also.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside, coughing. The acrid smell of smoke filled her lungs and made her eyes water. Her heart beat into her throat as she went through the dining room and toward the kitchen, Alec’s words late last night ringing in her mind. They got it out. It’s just the kitchen.
Just the kitchen. Only the heart of her restaurant. She went through the door, letting it swing shut behind her.
She stopped, her breath leaving in a rush. Water was everywhere, puddled on the floor, on the prep tables. Soot climbed the ceramic tiles on the wall behind her stove and clung to the plates stacked above it. The painted ceiling was blistered and peeling. A wire whisk, grotesquely distorted, lay on the wet floor in front of the sink. Her eyes went back to the charred stovetop where she’d been working. Ruined.
What a mess. Her eyes stung, this time not from the smoke. How long would it take to get back up and running? It would be at least a week before she could get a new stove. Thank God for insurance! Without it she’d have lost everything, including the house. As it was, the time it would take to fix this would be a killer. She thought of the lost revenue and fought back panic.
Valentine’s Day. She’d never have the kitchen in order by next weekend. She couldn’t even imagine the thick smell of smoke dissipating by then. She couldn’t afford this; the business was barely hanging on as it was. She hadn’t paid herself in three weeks, and she’d been counting on next weekend to help carry her into spring. Plus the money she’d spent on the Valentine’s promo would be wasted.
Why is this happening, God? Why can’t I do anything right?
Now her numbers would look bad, and Mrs. Simmons would think she was irresponsible. She’d almost burned down the woman’s ancestral home!
PJ’s eyes swept the charred kitchen as water seeped into her tennis shoes. Maybe her family was right. The breath left her body as the realization swept through her. She was going to lose the house, lose her dream, and it was nobody’s fault but her own.
She heard someone entering the house out front, the rattling of bags and voices.
“Open the windows, Zac, then clear the tables. Shaundra, start taking the curtains down.”
“What about me?”
“Grab the wet vac from the back of the truck, then gather the linens. Make a pile by the door. We’ll hit the Quick Spin later.”
PJ left the kitchen and found Cole in the entry setting down an armload of bags. “What are you doing?”
He straightened. “How’s the kitchen look?”
“Like someone detonated a bomb.” She took in the bags of supplies. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. “Where’d you get all this?”
“We spent the night at Seth’s. He opened up the store for us.” Cole began unbagging stuff: gloves, TSP, scrub brushes. “He gave me the rundown on cleanup. If we go at it, we should have you opened up by next weekend.”
She swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. He was up at dawn—all of them were—to help her. Despite the tension between them. Despite their rivalry. Despite the fact that she’d been moody and a little hateful toward him lately.
“Why are you doing this?”
He looked up from where he squatted on the floor, his face softening.
Just then Josh barged through the front door with the wet vac.
“Hey, PJ.” He set it down. “Sorry about your kitchen. Major bummer.”
“Thanks for your help. I—” She swallowed against the tremble in her voice. “I really appreciate it.” Her eyes swept over Cole, including him.
“No prob. Where should I put this?”
“I’ll take it,” PJ said. With a shaky smile she pulled the wet vac toward the kitchen. Maybe she’d get through this after all.
Chapter Thirty
THE NEXT SATURDAY COLE WOKE LATE AND GOT READY FOR a run. They’d finished the cleanup yesterday, and PJ’s new stove had been installed. Her insurance company had been very responsive. She’d insisted on cooking a feast for the household last night: scallops in a butter sauce, chicken cordon bleu, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. For dessert she’d whipped up a cheesecake with a thick graham cracker crust and berry topping. He was still full.
Cole pulled on a pair of sweats. Everything had been put on hold for PJ this week, but she’d be open tonight, had called to confirm the reservations. Seeing her wide smile and sparkling eyes yesterday had been worth all the effort.
He’d kept the boundaries in place all week, despite their proximity. But it hadn’t been easy. Smelling her sweet flower scent. Watching her laugh with the kids and blink back tears when Shaundra hugged her.
Her family had helped too. Her folks were nice enough, but he sensed that her mother disapproved of him. Maybe it was just that he stood in the way of PJ’s dream, or maybe she still thought he’d tried to sabotage her daughter. He wasn’t sure how much PJ had told them.
The doorbell rang as he was tying his shoes. He traipsed downstairs, figuring PJ would beat him to the door. But then he remembered she was helping Ryan move into his new home, never mind the hectic week she’d had.
A pimply teenager stood on the porch with a vase full of red roses, his breath fogging up the space between them. A Flowers on Main van was running at the curb where PJ’s car was usually parked.
“Delivery for PJ McKinley.”
A hollow feeling opened up inside. He eyed the flowers with distaste.
“She home?” The kid looked over Cole’s shoulder, a little too eager to see a woman several years his senior.
“No, but I’ll see that she gets them.”
“You sure? I was hoping to talk to her.”
“Get in line.” Cole took the vase and closed the door.
The cloying scent of roses filled his nose. Red roses. Obvious and unoriginal. He eyed a plain white envelope sticking up from the bunch, wondering if they were from firefighter Alec. Was she going out with him then?
And if Alec was so interested, where’d he been all week while PJ scrambled to get her kitchen back in order?
But maybe it was someone else. What did Cole know about her personal life? It wasn’t as if they’d had any heart-to-hearts lately—his idea. Looking at the bouquet, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. If he should’ve thrown aside his fears and taken the plunge.
No. He should be glad she had someone’s eye. She deserved that. She deserved to be cared for a
nd cherished. Deserved flowers for Valentine’s Day or for no reason at all.
He carried the roses through the kitchen into PJ’s room, fighting the urge to dump them into the garbage despite the pep talk he’d given himself. Her room was empty, as he’d suspected. He set the vase on her bureau and made himself leave the house. He had last night’s dinner—and a whole new worry—to run off.
PJ slipped her feet into the black boots and zipped them up, then gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Her new red dress swept over her form, ending just past midthigh. She adjusted the black belt and added a touch of lipstick.
The restaurant was starting to empty after a busy dinner hour, and Callie and Nate had promised her they had it under control.
She’d been ready to cancel on her sisters after the crazy week, but they’d insisted she needed a night out more than ever now. Maybe they were right, she thought, her gaze catching on the flowers in the trash basket.
When she’d returned from Ryan’s she’d found them on her dresser. Her heart had caught in her chest. It wasn’t thoughts of Alec that had sent hope spiraling through her. And it sure hadn’t been thoughts of Keaton.
But the words on the card were seared into her brain. I miss you. Please call me, PJ. Please. Love, Keaton
The man she didn’t want wouldn’t leave her alone, and the man she wanted didn’t want her. She definitely needed a girls’ night out.
She grabbed her peacoat and left the room, running smack into Cole in the hall. He caught her by the shoulders.
“Oh.”
“Sorry.”
He stepped back, his eyes sweeping over her. They lingered on her legs in a way that made PJ glad she’d chosen the heeled boots.
“You’re headed out,” he said.
She shouldered her purse. “Yeah. Callie and Nate have everything covered. They’ll lock up.”
“You look . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Nice.”
She met his eyes. They were the color of moss and twice as soft. “Thanks.”
He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Did you, ah, find the flowers?”
The Wishing Season (A Chapel Springs Romance Book 3) Page 17
