I’m gathering empty glasses on a tray near the terrace doors when male voices drift in through the partially open French doors.
“...Sterling Motors won’t know what hit them.”
I pause, the name catching my attention.
“Marcus has it all arranged,” a deeper voice says.
“Trust me,” one of the men says, his voice low but full of certainty. “It’s a done deal. Once Sterling Motors is under Marcus’ control, we’ll swoop in and grab it for pennies.”
Sterling Motors?The name rings a bell—because it’s Luke’s last name. But I doubt there’s a connection.
“Are you sure about this?” another man asks, his tone skeptical. “Sterling’s been in the game a long time. They’re not going down without a fight.”
“They don’t have a choice,” the first man replies, a smug edge to his voice. “I’ve got it on good authority—certain... arrangements have already been made. It’s just a matter of time.”
The clink of crystal startles me, and I realize I’m in danger of dropping a glass. I had better get moving and mind my own business. Their conversation has nothing to do with me. I head to the kitchen. Forcing the overheard gossip to the back of my mind, yet something about the confidence in that man’s voice leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
As I walk to the kitchen another of the guests approaches, pulling me aside. “Hi, I’m Rebel Henson. I own the pub, Shot in the Dark. I sometimes partner with Haley Harris, my sister-in-law who caters, but we’re always looking for talented chefs, for one reason or another.”
“I’m Lila Jeffers,” I introduce myself, remembering the pub where I met Emily on my first day in the city.
“My husband Hunter will be hosting a charity gala in a few months,” Rebel tells me. “Expect a call.”
“That’s very kindof you,”
“It’s not kindness,” she says with a smile showing deep dimples. “It’s common sense. You’re a gem, Lila. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
My heart leaps. A gala would be a huge opportunity, exactly the kind of exposure I need to build my business.
The high from tonight’s event stays with me all the way home. The compliments from the host, the promises to spread the word—it’s all swirling in my head, leaving me breathless with excitement. I can’t stop smiling, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I replay the night in my mind. For the first time since setting out on my own, I feel like I’m truly on the right track—like all my hard work is finally paying off.
When I pull into the driveway, I notice the faint glow of lights on the back deck. Luke’s Jeep is parked in its usual spot, and I find myself wondering if he stayed up just to see how my night went. The thought sends a flicker of warmth through me, though I quickly push it aside. It’s just a friendly gesture, I tell myself. Nothing more.
I grab my bag and make my way inside, kicking off my heels with a sigh of relief. The house is quiet, but when I step out onto the deck, Luke is there, leaning against the railing with a glass of wine in hand. A second glass sits on the small table beside him, condensation beading on its surface.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “How’d it go?”
“I thought you’d be asleep,” I murmur.
“And miss hearing about your big night?” He hands me a glass of what I recognize as my favorite Pinot Grigio. “Not a chance.”
“So?” His eyes are bright with genuine interest. “Tell me everything.”
“It went better than I could’ve imagined,” I say, my smile widening as I sink into the chair across from him. “The host loved everything. The guests were raving about the food. And at the end of the night, I was told to expect a call about a gala.”
Luke grins, lifting his glass in a toast. “Sounds like a hell of a night. Congrats, Lila. You deserve it.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip from my glass. The wine is crisp and cool, the perfect contrast to the warm breeze drifting off the ocean. “It feels... incredible. Like I’m finally doing what I was meant to do.”
“I know that feeling,” Luke says, his smile softening. “It’s like coming offstage after a killer show. You’re riding high, completely in the moment. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
I tilt my head,studying him. “Is it really like that for you? Performing?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Everything else fades away, and all that matters is the music. The crowd, the energy, the connection—it’s addictive.”
I sip my wine, letting his words sink in. “I guess tonight was my version of that. It wasn’t a stage, but—I don’t know. Hearing people talk about how much they loved my food, seeing the looks on their faces—it felt good.”
Luke chuckles, his gaze steady on mine. “Sounds like you’re hooked.”