Page 55 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Though I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to avoid doing anything that would remind me of Dad, I would never miss the opportunity to see Greer coach or to spend time with Rach, Flynn, and Bash while they’re in town. Not even if it means facing the ugly lie I keep telling them and myself.

The urge to tell them what I’ve been doing makes me open my mouth, but I can’t manage to get the words to come out. I watch Bash and Greer hug Flynn and Rachel and say goodnight, then accept the same from them.

They hustle out to find a cab while I lower myself back into my seat and stare at the pile of dishes strewn across the table.

Rachel pours herself another glass of wine and motions to the cluttered tabletop. “We should get this cleaned up before we’re too drunk.”

Flynn chuckles and pours another glass into the one I took from him, then takes a sip. “Too late for me. We’re on vacation, babe. Live a little.”

I sigh, grab my glass from my spot at the head of the table, and pour myself another one, too. “Leave it. I’ll clean it up later.”

It will give me something to do to try to keep my mind off both what just happened with Isabella and also what might bubble to the surface stepping foot into the stands at my first NHL game in almost twenty years. I thought I could handle it, thought I had desensitized myself to the idea, but my hand shakes as I bring my glass to my mouth, and the fruity, slightly bitter liquid does nothing to help ease the sourness in my stomach.

But game night isn’t about me. It’s about Greer and her team being so damn close to the playoffs again. It could be their year, and I don’t need to put a damper on anything by spouting off about my own bullshit.

I’ll figure it out. I always do.

Except with Isabella.

14

JAMESON

“Are we really not going to talk about it?”

I glance up from the pile of tablecloths at Rachel. “Talk about what?”

She props her hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow at me. “Um…the stunningly beautiful woman who had dinner with us last night and the massive amount of sexual tension between the two of you.”

Shit.

Here I thought I had managed to save myself from the guillotine of a Rachel inquisition when she and Flynn left the restaurant pleasantly sloshed last night without bringing up the Isabella situation.

Apparently, she was just biding her time until we were alone. Or she was sobering up. Maybe both. But now that she’s brought it up, the chances of me walking away from this conversation unscathed are slim to none. Especially since we’ve only just begun our shopping trip at the restaurant supply store. This may end up being an all-day interrogation.

I sigh and pull out a red tablecloth with an intricately stitched pattern around the outside edge. “What do you think of this one?”

She snatches it out of my hand. “Actually, I love it. But don’t deflect.”

“I wasn’t deflecting.” I move around her and over to the side of the store where the glassware towers on high shelves.

Her quick steps follow me.

Literally no escaping.

Rach may look all sweet and innocent, but she’s like a shark who smells blood in the water. Now that she knows about Isabella and has seen us interact, she isn’t going to let this go until she gets the answer she's looking for.

Too bad I don’t even know what the answer is.

I grab a wine glass from one of the shelves and lift it up to the light. “These are pretty.”

Rachel snatches it from my hand and sets it back down. “No, these look like medieval goblets. And not in a good way.” She reaches up and grabs a different glass. “You need something like this for Pinot.”

While simple, the red wine glass beautifully reflects the light in the store. “Yeah, these are cool.”

“I say you get these and some for white wine, then when you hire a sommelier, you can let him or her pick out other ones.”

“That was kind of my plan.”

---