Page 84 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

I can’t deal with another war in my heart, too.

Ashley reaches out and squeezes my wrist. “But things are getting better now, hon. It's time to wrap up this chapter and start a new one, right?”

Her words make sense, but it’s so much easier said than done.

No amount of time or pain medication can erase the look on Jameson's face when I said those final words to him. When I took the very thing that had once stood between us and used it to crush him. But they had their desired effect. He has stayed away, and I've managed to avoid seeing any sort of press about FURY during my recovery.

Mostly because I stayed off social media and refused to watch the news out of fear I might see him on a morning show or in a random photo and have a meltdown.

Books and binging Webflix are my new way of life. But soon enough, I'm going to have to figure out what I'm going to do going forward.

The sheer cost of my transplant means I can no longer afford to open the restaurant even though I prepaid a year of the lease. There's just too much overhead expense and not enough time to recoup my start-up costs and make any sort of a profit.

Which leads to a very uncomfortable question I’ve been avoiding asking Ashley since she convinced me to come with her today. We turn onto the street the restaurant sits on, and my heart thunders against my rib cage violently.

I stare at the familiar buildings passing by. “Will you do something for me?”

She glances my way. “Of course.”

“If he is there, will you go ask him if he still wants to buy my range? I could really use the money.”

I feel like such an idiot not doing it months ago when he offered, but I was being petty and the world looked a lot different back then. My priorities were different. One-upping Jameson and having something to lord over him meant more to me than having the money that could make such a huge difference now.

Ashley shakes her head. “No. You can ask yourself.”

She points through the windshield at the front of the restaurants where a familiar lounge chair sits across the two parking spots in the front with none other than Chef Fury reclining on it, looking every bit as delectable as he did that hot summer morning even though it's now fall and he's in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Shit.

“Keep driving.”

I reach out to grab the wheel—probably not the brightest move—but Ashley is too fast, and she maneuvers as close as she can to Jameson and throws the car in the park.

“No. You're going to get out.”

“No, I'm not.” I flick the lock on my door, securing myself inside.

She chuckles. “Did you seriously just lock your door like that's actually going to do anything?”

With one finger, she presses a button on her armrest that unlocks all the doors in the car.

I gasp and scowl at her. “You bitch! You set me up.”

She shrugs and tries to look innocent. “I have no idea what you talking about. I didn’t know Jameson would be here today.”

Jameson.

Somehow, I'd momentarily forgotten the man who was the center of all my dreams and nightmares while I was recovering is right outside this car. My focus drifts away from Ashley and toward the cause of my panic.

His eyes connect with mine through the windshield, the sweet amber swirling with as many emotions as the last time I saw him, and he pushes up from the chair slowly and deliberately.

He makes his way to the passenger side of the car and pops the door. I cross my arms over myself protectively, ignoring the slight pull at my side, lingering pain from the transplant that is gradually improving, and refuse to look at him.

“No.” I shake my head. “I can't.” I raise a hand in his direction. “I can't handle this today. Just no.”

Instead of closing the door and letting me go on with life, he extends a large hand out in front of me, ensuring it will be in my line of vision even though I won’t turn my head toward him.

That hand…

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