“Well, darling Mila, people work. What do you want?”
“This is going to be so cool, though! I’m actually excited about it. Don’t you want to see me be genuinely excited and optimistic about this?”
Nicole laughed. “I’m actually happy just to hear your voice like this. You do seem excited.”
Mila poured the speckled batter into the buttered loaf pan and scraped down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. A light fuzziness sparkled in her stomach. Is this what eager anticipation felt like?
“I guess maybe I’ll just go alone,” Mila said.
“You cannot go to a fancy dinner at Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park by yourself. That’s so lame.” She paused. “What about Jared?”
Mila slowly slid the pan into the hot oven and closed the door, leaning her hip against the counter as her friend’s suggestion settled in her brain. Jared? He’d been the first person she’d wanted to invite. But things between them were tenser than ever, and she couldn’t yet summon the confidence to invite him to an official dinner date.
“I don’t know,” Mila said. “He probably has to work, too.”
“He would totally leave early with you if you asked him. You know that.”
Mila gnawed at her thumbnail. In a perfect world, Jared would accompany her to the upscale dinner at Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park, smelling like deliciously subtle cologne and cracking jokes to ease her nerves. He’d hold her hand, tell her if she had something in her teeth, and let her eat off his plate when she inevitably wanted a taste of whatever he’d ordered.
But they weren’t living in a perfect world. They were in an awkward limbo somewhere between the familiar and the fantasy.
“I don’t know.”
“Will you quit saying that?” Nicole snapped. “I know I promised to be gentler with you, but right now I think you need a little tough love. Do not go to this thing alone. Put on your big girl panties and call him.”
Mila gazed down into the mixing bowl and scooped up a trace of leftover banana bread batter. She licked her finger. Sweet brown sugar, tangy banana, silky butter. Damn, that recipe was delicious. “Remind me why you can’t come.”
“I told you,” Nicole said. “Calvin already bought us tickets to some concert.”
“That sounds made up.”
“Girl, bye.”
The click sounded in Mila’s ear, and she hit the power button but held on to the phone. She studied the raised white buttons, the numbers telling her Jared was a mere seven digits away. What if he said no?
She heard Nicole’s biting voice in her head. He won’t say no!
She gritted her teeth, all but closed her eyes, and punched in the numbers. With her teeth clamped around her thumbnail, she prayed he didn’t answer.
“Yo.”
Despite her brain telling her to chill, her heart bloomed like a flower in spring.
“Hi.”
He sniffed. “What’s up?”
“Not much.”
Silence stretched over the line. “Are you being held hostage and forbidden from giving explicit information over the phone? Do you need me to ask you a series of questions where you answer ‘pineapple’ for ‘yes’ and ‘Yo-Yo Ma’ for ‘no’?”
Laughter bubbled up and out of her, and she leaned on the counter to brace her jittery bones. “You’re so weird.”
“What’s up, Bailey?”
“Um, so hey. I was thinking. I have this dinner tomorrow night at Indigo Hotels. The new one?”
He released a single chuckle. “Yeah. I’m aware.”
“So, um.” She cleared her throat. Why was this so hard? “Do you wanna, like . . . go with me?”
“Do I wanna, like, go with you?”
“Yeah. To the dinner.”
“Sure.”
“Oh,” she said. Just like that. No big deal. Sure. “Okay?”
“Did you want me to say no?”
She ran her tongue over her teeth. Did she? “No. Of course not. I just . . .”
He waited for her to continue, but words escaped her. She wanted him to go more than anything, but the easier path would have had him politely declining. Now she had to face the music.
“Was this a courtesy ask?” he said. “You didn’t want me to be home alone on a Friday night, so you thought, ‘I’ll throw my old buddy Jared a bone.’ ”
She shoved a hand into her hair, massaging her scalp. This boy gave her a headache.
“I asked you because I thought you might want to go with me. And because I thought having you as my date might be fun. Is that good enough?”
“Totally. I’m always in for a free meal.” He paused. “Hey, uh. Is Vin gonna be there?”
“Probably.” She hadn’t spoken to Vin about it, but she’d also avoided him like a bill collector in the last week.
“Vin sucks.”
She laughed. “So you’ve mentioned.”
“All right,” he said. “So, tomorrow night. Dinner.”
“It’s cocktail attire, although I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to look nice. And the dinner is at seven, but before that there’s a tour of the property, a kitchen demonstration, and a cocktail hour, so we have to be there at five. Can you leave work early?”
“For you, sweet Lee Lee, I’ll take the whole day.”
Her stomach caved, and her skin lit on fire. Jesus, was she in for it now.
* * *
* * *
Mila’s four-inch heels clicked on the fresh black pavement, and she clutched Jared’s forearm while carefully avoiding black ice. The parking lot had been cleared and salted, but she didn’t need a broken ankle. Not tonight.
“This place is insane,” Jared said.
Mila tore her eyes from the pavement and looked up. “Wow.”
The massive log cabin–style hotel sat nestled in the surrounding forest like the crown jewel of the landscape, red pine, balsam fir, and white spruce trees guarding the property like swaying, stoic guards. A sweeping front porch welcomed guests, inviting them to perch in cozy Adirondack chairs draped with vibrant Hudson’s Bay blankets. Vin stood atop the wide plank staircase. He grinned wildly as Mila and Jared approached.
A cool breeze blew in across the lake, and Mila admired the glistening water as she clutched her black wool coat tighter around her. Jared slipped a warm hand over hers, drawing her into his body for added stability.
As they drew closer to the property, Vin’s gaze narrowed, and the smile fell from his face.
“Hey,” he said. “Jared. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Jared closed his hand around Mila’s until his grip pinched her fingers. “Ouch, dude.”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Jared’s my date,” Mila said. “I was allowed to bring somebody, right?”
They ascended the staircase to meet Vin at the top, and he licked his lips as he stared Jared down. Mila’s chest swirled with bubbling nerves. Now or never. The awkwardness couldn’t continue.
“Hey,” she said, turning to Jared. “Can you give me a minute? I’ll meet you inside.”
Jared’s brow pinched, the biting-cold temperatures turning his cheeks and the tip of his nose bright pink. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and squeezed her hand.
“Sure.”
“Hey, man,” Vin said, “Just don’t go too far. The place isn’t finished yet, and there are a bunch of things you need to know before you go in, all right?”
“Jesus,” Jared grumbled. “No problem.”
He trailed a hand over Mila’s lower back as he brushed past her and into the hotel. The warmth that spread across her skin defied the weather.
“How are you?” Vin asked. He stepped closer, invading her space and drawing tension to her shoulders. She stepped backward, and his face darkened.
“
I’m great,” she said. “Really excited to be here.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m really glad you’re here, too. Kinda sucks you brought your friend, but maybe I can steal you for a minute later. There are some spectacular views of the mountains from the Spruce Suite I’d love to show you.”
Nerves tightened her jaw, but she pried her mouth open and forced the words out. “Hey, listen. Vin. I think you’re a really great guy, and I had a really nice time on our date . . .”
“Oh God.” He rolled his eyes and stepped away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. “All right, Mila, I get it.”
Her lips parted. “You get what?”
“You’re here with him, he looks at you like you’re freaking Beyoncé, and now you’re giving me the ‘You’re a nice guy’ speech. I get it, okay? I wasn’t all that into you anyway.”
Her limbs turned to lead as the vitriol poured out of his mouth. What a colossal asshole. “Oh, no?”
“No.” He sneered. Literally sneered. Had she ever seen anyone literally sneer before? “You’re cute, but you’re probably dying to pop out babies soon, right? I am so not that guy. I just wanted to have some fun.”
He pulled out his phone, and she stood still. She didn’t have a ton of experience with breakups, but this was one for the books.
“Okay.” Her voice hovered above a whisper. Was he texting the judges right in front of her, telling them she shouldn’t be considered for the bake-off finals after all? Had she sealed her own fate? The consequences of rejecting him hadn’t occurred to her until this very moment. And now they threatened to drown her.
“Not sure that dude’s Indigo Hotel material, either,” Vin said.
“What?”
He looked up, his lips curled in disgust. “He was interested in a job with us. I thought he might be a good fit for the Raleigh-based development team at Indigo, but maybe he’s just a small-town guy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just not really what Indigo corporate is all about.”
Mila’s hands tightened into fists inside her coat pockets, fighting the urge to smack this guy in the mouth. Let Vin do his worst to her, but no way would she let him insult her best friend. Contest be damned.
“Wow,” she said. “Small-town guy, huh? How repulsive. I bet you find kindness and dependability and upstanding morals really off-putting, too.”
His eyes snapped back to his phone while a single, sarcastic huff escaped his lips. “Hey, go on in. I’m texting my assistant to give you all the info.”
Mila willed her feet to leave the ground and move her inside, but her face remained frozen in surprise. Jared greeted her in the vestibule just inside the front door, and within moments of seeing her face, he touched her elbow.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I told him I didn’t think we should see each other again, and he sort of . . . turned into a jerk.”
Jared straightened another two inches as his jaw tightened, his usually bright eyes turning cold. “What did he say to you?”
Bits of her conversation with Vin trickled back into her mind, but what really stood out was his claim that at one point, there had been a job on the table for Jared. And Jared hadn’t mentioned it to her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “He seems like a guy used to getting his way, and this time he didn’t. I just hope he doesn’t have a say in the bake-off outcome. Something tells me if that’s the case, I’ll finish dead last.”
She wanted to ask about the Indigo Hotels job, about Jared’s plan to leave Pine Ridge. But something held her back. If his departure was imminent, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it out loud.
His jaw ticked, a scowl on his lips.
“Was he rude to you?” Anger simmered in his voice.
Before she could reassure him that she could hold her own with guys like Vin, the assistant from the bake-off popped her head into the vestibule, grinning at them warmly and clutching a clipboard in her hands.
“Are you two ready? I’ll take your coats and lead you in.”
With wide eyes and held breath, Mila followed Vin’s assistant past the front door and through the arched doorways and vaulted ceilings of richly decorated rooms, under glittering chandeliers and vintage taxidermy. Fireplaces crackled and roared, the scent of pine and cinnamon wafted through hallways, and twangy folk music cascaded through each warm and woodsy space. The entire place radiated Adirondack warmth with accents of high-priced luxury.
The assistant left them just outside the kitchen doors, where the rest of the bake-off contestants and their partners would meet them. Jared placed a gentle hand on Mila’s lower back, sending chills skittering across her skin.
“I didn’t even get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look.” His words whispered across the delicate skin on her neck, traveled down her collarbone, and landed somewhere in her chest, sending sparks through her body.
Nicole had lent her a formfitting long-sleeved blue velvet dress that dipped low in the back and reached to her knees. She typically strayed from any clothing that highlighted her figure, but after Jared’s response to her date-night blouse, she found the courage to step outside her comfort zone. Nicole practically leaped with excitement when Mila came out of her bedroom to model the look.
Mila looked up into Jared’s eyes, a warm pine-tree green highlighted with flecks of gold. His long, dark eyelashes blinked once, drying her throat and lips all at once. Seemed the dress had done its job.
“Thank you,” she said.
His mouth quirked up. His hand remained on her lower back, and she leaned into it, forgetting to care that he was her friend and that closeness wasn’t allowed.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” A booming voice commanded the attention of the huddle of twenty people who had congregated without Mila even noticing. She looked to the front of the group, where Chef Constance, one of the judges from round one, stood clad in blindingly austere chef’s whites.
“Welcome!” she said brightly. “My name is Constance Hathaway, and I’m the head chef here at Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park. You may remember me from round one of the contest. It’s my great pleasure to welcome you to the hotel and to be your guide on this tour of the kitchen. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’re delighted to share this space with you.”
Chef Constance pushed the kitchen doors open and waved as the group filed into the kitchen, a sequence of “ooh!” and “aah!” rushing from the contestants’ mouths. Mila grinned at Chef Constance as she passed by, and the moment she entered the kitchen, the rest of the world faded away.
All around her, shining, silver commercial appliances gleamed in the fluorescent overhead lights. To her left, a massive grill station sat positioned to receive only the most exceptional cuts of meat. Heat radiated off the surface as a white-jacketed chef coated thick slabs of rib-eye steaks with salt, readying them for the searing metal of the grill.
Massive ovens, imposing cooktops, and giant hoods surrounded the group on all sides, and Mila glanced around with an open mouth as the kitchen team scuttled by like ants with covered bowls, prep containers, and a rainbow of ingredients. The symphony of the kitchen whirled around them—blenders whirring, frying pans sizzling, all occasionally punctuated with a “Hot behind!”
“God, isn’t this cool?” Mila gushed.
Jared shrugged. “I dunno. It’s kinda like the diner, right?”
“Are you freaking joking?” Mila scoffed. “This is nothing like the diner. Look at the pastry station!”
A large square surface covered in tiny ramekins of creamy pots de crème sat at attention while the pastry chef topped each creation with a flourish of lime rind. What Mila wouldn’t give to work in this space instead of on the two-foot-by-two-foot countertop in her kitchen in Pine Ridge.
The group wandered the kitchen, murmuring over the meticulousness, the
efficiency of it all. Chef Constance explained each station, each chef’s role, and how the kitchen staff functioned like a finely tuned machine. It only worked if each person completed their job down to the last crumb.
While the rest of the contestants filtered out of the kitchen, eager for cocktail hour, Mila lingered. She watched the pastry chef pipe perfectly uniformed domes of whipped cream onto the pots de crème, her fingers plying the pastry bag with gentle fingers.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Chef Constance sidled up to Mila, looking on as her pastry chef created art out of sugar and butter and cream.
“It really is,” Mila said. “It sounds silly, but I think people who’ve never really tried to work with pastry don’t understand how difficult it can be to make it look that good.”
“You know,” Chef Constance said, “Indigo offers apprenticeships. It’s not great money, but the experience is invaluable.”
Mila’s heart lit up. “Really?”
“Sure,” Chef Constance said. “Our team here is second to none. You may have learned the basics in culinary school, but the real-world experience you’ll gain here is invaluable.”
“Oh,” Mila said. She swallowed down her disappointment. “I’ve never been to culinary school.”
Chef Constance’s round face softened. “Ah. Well, you’re young. There’s still time.”
As Chef Constance brushed past her, Mila deflated like a balloon. She may have won the first round of a small-town bake-off, but she was still light-years away from owning a place in the culinary world. She watched the pastry chef finish the flourishes on the pots de crème and, with a heavy heart, pushed through the kitchen doors.
Jared stood in the hall outside the kitchen, idly gazing at a wall display of black-and-white photos featuring log cabins and stone-faced families posing for the camera. Mila paused, taking him all in.
Tonight he’d chosen a gray wool suit, the fabric hugging the powerful curve of his shoulders as if its sole purpose in life was to make him look good. As he slipped his hands into the pockets of his well-fitted trousers, the vent at the bottom of the jacket split and the rounded curve of his ass came into view.
Sweet Love Page 13
