Loss united them. Will it also tear them apart?
When her staff abandon her before opening her new restaurant, Sophie, an aspiring chef who refuses to move past the death of her fiancée must let the charming military man Max into not just her bed but...
"How's the country sabbatical?" His warm baritone reeked of mirth. Despite being a chef, Etienne had only ever seen farmland from an airplane while city hopping and had never been in a cornfield outside of the fake ones they created in empty warehouses on Halloween.
She stood from her chair and stretched. "Oh, you know me. Living the dream over here." Her gaze slid to the bathroom door and her lips tingled for the millionth time since Max had kissed her yesterday. It had taken all her willpower last night not to cross that tile threshold and sneak into his room, pretending she wanted to talk but really wanting a repeat of his lips on hers, his hot fingers caressing her breast. Or better, more. Much more. This morning she'd missed her post-run Max fix as he and Finn had left early to drive to the nearest hardware store two towns over. She hated the disappointment that coursed through her in his absence.
Etienne chuckled. "Oh, no." The familiar sound of pots hitting a stainless steel countertop echoed in the background. "Wasn't that the point of you staying in that one stop light town? Making your dream of having your own kitchen come true? Is there trouble in paradise?"
"That's the thing. It isn't my kitchen. Or even my vision." Sophie walked into the bathroom, putting Etienne on speakerphone. "The owner of the winery is in control."
"Ah, if there's one thing I know about my friend, she likes control." His voice bounced off the tiled surfaces.
Meeting her own eyes in the mirror, Sophie huffed. "You make me sound like a robot."
The snicker echoed around the room. "You are anything but a robot. But remember, I've seen your colour-coded planners and the calendar you manage by the minute. I'd never had my cappuccino break interrupted by an alarm clock before. Coffee is enjoyed, not consumed in less than 10 minutes."
Sophie adjusted an askew towel on the rack beside her. "We had a schedule to keep."
"My point exactly. Life isn't a schedule. Plans should be able to change." Nausea pitched in Sophie's stomach. Plans and schedules had been how she'd coped with Thomas's death. By planning each moment, she managed to hold herself together with something to do next, rather than shatter to pieces with the ache of missing him. Someone in the background on Etienne's side yelled to close the door. "Like in the kitchen, if the ingredient you need has run out or gone bad, you have to improvise. Go with the flow."
Before she knew what she was doing, Sophie pushed through the opposite door to the bedroom beyond. Muted colors greeted her, the linens on Max's bed wrinkle free and expertly made. Unlike her room, no personal possessions were in sight. A canvas bag, the only indication of him, sat tucked into a corner like it was trying to hide. She inhaled deeply, the cool air holding the faintest hint of the scent of Max. Her blood sang, rushing to places low and deep.
"What if I can't?" Her voice fell to a whisper.
"What if you can?" Since the day they met, Etienne had been the one person who could push her out of her comfort zone. Sure, they'd come up with the dishes to pitch to the owners together, but it had been a partnership where he'd waited for her to find her inspiration or spurred her to get creative.
Sophie ran a finger along the comforter, the soft material nothing like the hard muscles she'd traced on Max's stomach yesterday. She hadn't planned on kissing him. That had been an impulse. The result of which had her buzzing even now. If she was honest with herself, she wanted more of that. More of him. "I don't know."
"Maybe you should find out."
Her body screamed Yes, find out.
Her mind screamed, No, it might hurt.
Air froze in her lungs, making it impossible to breathe. She withdrew her hand. Max was due to return to the Navy in a little over a month. A job that was synonymous with danger. An explosion of dread threw emotional shrapnel around her chest. Emily had met him because he'd been in an accident where two members of his crew had died.
A shiver ran down her spine and she sprinted across the hardwood floors, through the bathroom and back into the safety of her own room. No, she wasn't letting her heart anywhere near a man who could abandon her at any moment. Never again.
Sophie cleared her throat. "Simon made it clear he's only interested in tried-and-true items for this dinner. I need advice on what to serve. Do you have time to brainstorm with me?"
On the other end, Etienne let out a long breath. "Always, Sophie."
She sat down at the desk, opened her laptop, and pulled up a fresh document. This was what she needed to concentrate on: a plan she could control.
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Hey there DL here. Can you understand Sophie's hesitancy to get involved with Max? Is she over-thinking this?
I had a conversation with a fellow reader who was binging True Blue, my first foray into writing about the military and we were discussing the qualities of those who sign up. Because it certainly takes a brave soul to volunteer to put themselves in the line of duty, be it in the military, on the police force, a nurse in a hospital or any of the other jobs we (and by we I mean me) unbrave folks sometimes take for granted. So in case I don't say this enough, thank you for your service.
