Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) (31 page)

Now was as good a time as any. Sweat popped out on his forehead, but he’d no way of swiping it off. “I wanted to explain about Jessica. About how we came to be engaged…and what happened later.”

Her body tensed, and she returned to neck-strangling again. “Okay.”

Del wished he’d gone with his first instinct to sweep her up in his arms, so he could judge her expression. To hell with what any onlookers might think. But he hadn’t wanted rumors to affect her—after all, she had to continue living in this town with gossips like Mrs. Taylor.

“It’s not a pretty story, but it’s one I should’ve had the balls to tell you before we slept together,” he said softly.

She blew a puff of air out her nose. “Better late than never.”

Never would’ve been easier—never would’ve been preferable.

Before Shaye, he hadn’t given much of a shit about what people thought of him while he continued working his way up the culinary ladder. It didn’t matter if his line cooks tagged him as an asshole—so long as they, and management, respected his work. But sometime in the last three weeks, he’d started caring what Shaye thought of him, both professionally and personally.

Especially personally.

So, he needed to tell her about Jessica. But the idea of exposing his past to Shaye felt about as appealing as presenting a substandard three-course banquet to a food critic.

“On Jessica’s twenty-fifth birthday, we celebrated a little too hard, and I was trashed by the time we left her surprise party. Total blank until I woke the next morning with a pounding head and Jessica saying she’d called everyone to tell them the wonderful news.”

A mini princess and a taller accompanying ghost burst onto the sidewalk in front of them. Del jerked to a halt.

“Happy Halloween!” the children yelled, barreling past.

Shaye adjusted her grip on him and murmured in his ear. “You asked her to marry you?”

He continued down the gradually sloping road toward Due South. “Guess I must have. And since her daddy was
Cosset’s
owner and my employer…”

“You didn’t want to disillusion her.”

“No, and I did like her, a lot. I thought maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad. She’d at least understand the dedication you needed to make head chef—the long hours, the drive to succeed in such a cut-throat business.”

“What happened?”

He’d known he’d fucked up only months afterward. He started drinking more, sleeping less, and the pressure of maintaining normalcy with Jessica’s dad breathing down his neck became too much. The full story about how badly he’d screwed everything up was something he still couldn’t stand to share, so he’d stick with the bare bones.

At the front of Due South, he crossed the road to the empty playground, and Shaye wriggled off. While she peeled off her heels, Del slumped on the bench seat overlooking the harbor. Shaye sat next to him, her hand settling on his thigh with gentle pressure. He squeezed her fingers and pretended the difficulty catching his breath was due to the unpleasant memories and not from the surge of tenderness sweeping through him at her small show of solidarity.

“Jessica got caught up in the whole wedding-planning thing. Eventually she couldn’t overlook my lack of enthusiasm about seating arrangements and notecards, and we ended up having massive fights. I broke it off a few weeks before…shit.” He hunched forward.

God, he felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

“A week before the wedding?” Shaye wriggled closer to him.

He shook his head. “No. A few weeks before she nearly drowned.”

Shaye remained silent then leaned on him. “I’m so sorry, Del. It’s a useless thing to say, but I am.”

Del sighed. “Jessica erupted after I told her we were through, but I think she was more embarrassed about calling off the wedding than the fact we didn’t love each other.” He scratched fingers down his jaw. “I kept my head down and continued to work my ass off, expecting her father to fire me at any second.”

“He didn’t?”

“Not then. She didn’t tell her parents we’d split, though some of her friends knew, and I suspect her mother did too. Maybe Jessica hoped we’d reconcile, I have no fucking idea. Anyway, about two weeks after we broke up, we arrived at the same party. Jessica came over to speak to me, and it was as if she’d turned the situation around in her head. As if she’d decided to end the relationship. ‘Course I was happy with that if it meant no more histrionics. I saw her later, draped over a couple of guys.” Del swallowed hard, staring at the line of white breakers hissing ashore.

The party in Santa Monica seemed light years away from the one he’d attended tonight. A few months ago, if asked which party he’d rather be at—one with booze and drugs, or one with cupcakes and giggling kids—he’d have picked the first. Now, with Shaye snuggled into his side, his head clear thanks to the sea breezes, and a belly comfortably filled with cupcakes and Mrs. T’s punch, the world of schmoozing and boozing had zero appeal.

“I was about to leave, but once I saw Jessica with those guys, I couldn’t go without talking to her. I’d only had one beer, so I offered to drive her home. She made a graphic suggestion of where I could stick my ride. Her two new boyfriends would take her home later…much later.”

“She wouldn’t listen to you?”

He cut her a wry glance. “Jessica wouldn’t listen to anyone. She got what she wanted and did as she pleased. So I left, instead of making sure the boss’ daughter arrived back at her apartment safely.”

“You weren’t a couple.”

He’d been madder than hell and bent on getting back to his place to get righteously drunk. To make everything go away.

“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders, bumping her a little bit away from him.

He couldn’t bear her sympathy for the worst bit of this sordid little tale. “So anyway, Wayne Tanner rang me at 5:00 a.m. looking for his daughter. You can imagine the shit flying after I told him I hadn’t seen her since the party. Before I could even explain we weren’t together anymore, he hung up. I went into work, and the head chef told me what he’d heard. Wayne finally tracked down Jessica. Nobody knew exactly what happened to her, only she’d likely gone skinny dipping since her clothes were found on the beach. She must’ve gotten into difficulty in the water. Whoever was with her got her to shore and called an ambulance, but they fucking left her naked in the sand for the paramedics to find.”

“Oh, Del.”

“She’s alive—though she suffered some neurological damage. I went straight to the ICU that morning, but not being family, I couldn’t see her. I talked to her parents in the waiting room. Of course, they blamed me for letting her go off at the party, and wouldn’t listen as I explained how Jessica refused my offer of a ride.” Del sucked in a lungful of salty air. It burned clear and cold, but not enough to quench the fire in his chest. “Under the circumstances, I don’t blame them for thinking I was a misogynistic asshole or Warren telling me to pack up my stuff and never set foot in
Cosset
again.”

“You did tell them you and Jessica weren’t a couple anymore?”

Del shook his head. “In the face of their grief, it hardly seemed important.”

“But you lost your job—that’s so unfair.” Shaye turned sideways and slid her arms around him. She hugged him, pressing her face into his throat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Del stiffened under her touch, but she didn’t pull away.

“Jessica could’ve died. If I’d never broken my own rule and gotten involved with her, things may’ve turned out differently.” He gently peeled her off and rose to his feet.

“You’re too smart to believe that bullshit.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He held out a hand. “C’mon then, cupcake. I’ll carry you over to the hotel.”

She shook her head and stood, smoothing down the billowy folds of her dress. “I can walk.”

They crossed to the front entrance of Due South in silence.

At the bottom of the steps, she turned and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Guilt nearly destroyed my family and screwed up my sister’s life for years. Don’t feed that wolf anymore, baby, it’ll
fuck you up
.”

Then she disappeared inside.

The motorcycle he’d borrowed off Ford was parked out back, so Del walked around the outside of Due South, glancing up at the rear corner window. Shaye’s light blinked on. His gut clenched low and hard. More than anything he wanted to climb those stairs and knock on her door.

But thinking about all this shit with Jessica churned through him like a bad dose of food poisoning. He was headed into the same dangerous waters with Shaye—more dangerous than the ones he’d dipped his toe in with Jessica.

Because this time, he wasn’t messing around with an attractive woman who kept his demons at bay. This time he was messing with a woman he could fall for big time…and never recover.

Chapter 16

“Cut—cut!”

Shaye looked up from plating her rib-eye to Henry’s red-faced fury.
What now?
She tucked the cloth into her apron and slanted a glance at Ethan and Del, the latter who also glared at the little director.

Henry stomped over and threw up his hands. “The bleeding hell is wrong with you today?”

Shaye reared back as if he’d slapped her.

“Don’t talk to my sous like that,” Del snarled, leaving his post at the burners with Ethan to stalk across the room. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Exactly. She hasn’t done
anything
. She’s a doormat, all ‘yes, chef, no chef, anything-you-fucking-say-chef.’” Henry bared his teeth like a terrier about to nip an ankle.

Shaye tilted her chin down to meet Henry’s gaze. “I’m no one’s bloody doormat.”

Del didn’t touch her, but the connection between them flared hot and bright. She’d tried everything this morning to disguise it in front of the cameras.

She’d focused her entire being on the lunch service rush—a fake rush, of course, since Henry had filled the front of house with pre-selected locals and tourists keen to be on the show. Fake. Everything about this production was faked except, she conceded, Ethan Ward’s skill in the kitchen. The man was brilliant.

With the camera crew underfoot, and the scripted feel of the whole service—including directions given to their “guests” on what to say when their meals were delivered—she’d begun to loathe her part in this production. Her big-girl panties were pulled up high enough to continue for Due South’s sake—for Del’s sake. Didn’t mean she’d allow the annoying little man to treat her like a cowering dog.

Henry sneered, leaning on the counter, getting in her face. “Viewers don’t want to see you and Del acting as if you are an old married couple. They want the kind of conflict we saw on the audition tape. Your snark and witty one-liners.”

Shaye narrowed her eyes, tempted to grab a roasting fork and stab his hand. A heavy palm landed on her shoulder, long fingers curling over enough to restrain her should she lunge.

“My sous has always behaved professionally while I’ve worked with her.” Del’s voice could’ve flash frozen a pot of boiling water.

“I think what Henry’s trying to say”—Ethan strolled to stand on her other side—“is we need a little more disharmony between the two of you for today’s shoot.”

She pasted on a small, tight smile, which Holly had nicknamed her
I’m about to rip your face off
smile, and turned to Ethan. “I’m doing my job, and I’m doing it to the best of my abilities with a bunch of strangers in our kitchen.”

“I understand. And no one”—Ethan glared at his director—“is suggesting you’re not.” He squeezed her arm. “You’re doing great for a first timer in front of a camera.”

Del’s grip tightened a fraction. She needn’t be a telepath to understand he didn’t like Ethan touching her. Kind of flattering and irritating at the same time.

Shaye stepped to the side, pulling away from both men and walking around the counter to stand in front of Henry. Being a good two inches taller than him, she used her ram-rod spine to her advantage.

“What you saw in the audition tapes were teething difficulties and not my normal behavior. Del and I have sorted out our differences in the kitchen, and we work well together. We’re a team.” The words blurting out of her mouth were a revelation to her, as well.

The most truthful sentences she’d spoken all morning.

Once Del got past being an arrogant jerk, and she’d gone beyond trying to prove her balls were just as big as his, they actually
did
work well together. They
were
a team.

Henry’s lip curled, but before he could speak, Ethan interrupted again. “That’s wonderful, Shaye. Really.” He spread his hands. “But for now, we need the viewers to see the tension and conflict between head and sous chef. Give them discord, so after I swoop in to help, it’ll appear you’ve made enormous progression in your working relationship.”

“Not to mention your personal one,” said Henry drily.

Shaye’s jaw sagged.
Oh, God
. Were they that obvious? Her gaze zipped to Del, who looked at Henry as if the man were something Del’d scraped off his shoe.