Page 43 of Whisking It All

“She’s just happy you’re there,” Jamie said, ignoring the tightness in his chest that his own mother would never do those things again. It was an old hurt, but one that ripped itself open at the most unexpected times. For a moment he thought of Tessa, having to recount her mother’s death at the farmer’s market the day before, and he cringed. No wonder she’d shut down.

“It looks like she’s going to have a while longer to force me to eat my vegetables,” Ethan said, his voice sobering. “It’ll be six to eight weeks before dad’s back on his feet after this surgery. He can’t even drive for at least a month.” Jamie cursed under his breath. “Yeah, my feelings exactly. I can’t just leave—”

“No, of course not. What can I do?”

“You’re already doing it, man. I just need you to be there for Tessa, make sure she has what she needs. I hate that I’m not there. She finally comes to town and the first thing I do is leave.”

“I’m sure she understands,” Jamie said, guilt twisting in his gut.

“I just spoke to her before I called you. She’s not as tough as she wants people to think, you know?” Again, Jamie thought of the hurt in her eyes when he’d turned her away. He leaned his head back against his headrest, closing his eyes as he listened to his friend talk. “She’s trying to get people to take her seriously as a chef and she doesn’t have any friends in town—”

“She and Kyla Mitchell seem to have hit it off.”

“—and now I’m not even there.”

Jamie smiled, despite himself. “Worrying like that, you sound like your mother.”

Ethan huffed a laugh. “I guess you never stop being a parent, no matter how old they get. I know she’s not a kid anymore. Just…do what you can to help her see that she could have a life here, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, squeezing his eyes shut against the irrational desire that he be a part of that life. “Okay.”

∞∞∞

Jamie stood on the roof of his restaurant as the wind whipped around him watching the boats bob in the harbor. He pulled his jacket around himself with one hand, his other loosely holding a mostly-full beer bottle at his side. From his position on the roof, he could see the entire harbor and the large, stately homes on the opposite side lining the waterfront of the peninsula at the end of Aster Bay. He loved this spot, despite the fact that the rooftop terrace remained unfinished even three years after he’d taken ownership of the restaurant.

When he’d bought the place, he’d had big dreams of putting outdoor dining up there during the warmer months. He’d yet to find another place in town that had the same uninterrupted view, the waves gently lapping at the sides of the boats almost hypnotizing. On the roof, he felt like he was at the center of the town—not just in it, but a part of it, connected to it, integral to it. It was what had attracted him to the location in the first place. Well, that and the incredible kitchen.

As the sun set over the harbor, painting the water in streaks of pink and orange, and the sounds of clattering silverware and muted conversation floated up to him from the restaurant below, he fought for that sense of peace. But it eluded him. Instead, the roof practically vibrated with the reminder of the night before, when he’d pulled his best friend’s daughter into his lap and kissed her like she was his to kiss. When he’d sent her away so he wouldn’t do more than kiss her. The hurt in her eyes as she’d walked away from him was seared into his memory, added to the list of moments he’d stolen with her that flashed through his mind like an old, flickering movie projector. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop picturing the fan of her eyelashes across her cheeks when she closed her eyes, the hypnotic ripple of her abdominal muscles contracting when she orgasmed, the high gasp when he tugged her nipple between his teeth, the scrape of her fingernails down his back, the salt of her skin—

Enough.

It was the worst kind of betrayal of Ethan’s trust, thinking of his daughter that way. Maybe that’s why Jamie had gone up to the roof that night, to torture himself with the memories he couldn’t escape, and the knowledge that each one could cost him the family he’d built for himself in Aster Bay. That they could cost Tessa a chance at building the life in Aster Bay she deserved, one free from whispered scandals.

He took a sip of his beer and dug into his pocket for his phone. Still no message from Whisky. She’d been quiet all day, only sending a few hurried replies here and there. His last message to her stared back at him.

DiceDiceBaby: How’s your ghost?

He had just stuck his phone back in his pocket when it dinged. He pulled it out so fast he almost dropped his beer. Pausing, he forced himself to take a breath and set the bottle down on the ground, sitting beside it on the cold ground, his elbows resting on his bent knees in front of him.

WhiskyBusiness: He’s just fine. His name is Bob and I’ve decided we’re going to be friends.

Yes, this was what he needed, to spend a night being DiceDiceBaby, the kind of guy who could laugh and flirt and not end up infatuated with his best friend’s daughter. The kind of guy Whisky thought he was.

DiceDiceBaby: You named your ghost?

WhiskyBusiness: I read online that if you give a ghost a name, it feels acknowledged and is less likely to bother you.

DiceDiceBaby: But Bob? Really?

WhiskyBusiness: It was the least threatening name I could think of.

WhiskyBusiness: And I’ve been cooking with a lot of sage.

DiceDiceBaby: You’re supposed to burn it. Not cook with it.

WhiskyBusiness: That seems like a waste of perfectly good sage.

Jamie took a sip of his beer and looked out over the water. This was nice. Conversation with a woman about nothing at all. Conversation that had no chance of going anywhere or hurting anyone or meaning anything.

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