Page 98 of Visions of You

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Excerpt from Because of You

Evan

With my fingers tapping a steady rhythm against my hip, I hurried as fast as I could. Well, as fast as my bum leg would let me. Worried and irritated in equal amounts, I glanced at the clear blue sky, grateful that at least the weather was cooperating. January mornings in the Florida Keys were unpredictable, but today Calypso Key had been graced with abundant sunshine and a soft breeze. Christmas decorations had been put away and the new year recently celebrated, but some things never changed. I quickened my pace even more.

I traveled along a paved trail that ran down a gently sloping hill from our family estate known tongue-in-cheek as Markham Manor. I lived with my father and grandmother, each of us in private quarters. Continuing south, the path ended at our family-run resort, named after the Key. As I trotted with my leg hardly making a hitch, I spared a quick glance at the Barn, where my oldest brother Gabe lived with his daughter and his new fiancée, April.

My destination lay ahead and toward my right, on the western edge of our small island. Skirting the lobby building, I passed between two of our garden cottages. The paved path continued, manicured shrubs and vibrant flowers in full bloom framing it on either side. The foliage opened to reveal a long, rectangular structure stretching before me. Painted soft pink with rustic wood accents adorning its roof and edges, Orchid was our fine dining restaurant and only open for dinner service. But it would be a terrible waste of resources to let the building sit unused all morning, so Calypso Key Resort’s pastry chef, Rea Lipton, used a section of the kitchen to prepare her confections, as well as desserts for both Orchid and Dorado, our casual restaurant.

That wasn’t the problem, or the reason I was in a hurry.

The problem was Alfonso Conti, Orchid’s executive chef and resident pain in the ass. Though Orchid didn’t open until 6:00 p.m., he liked to show up for work early, often before noon. Where he would proceed to harangue Rea, who was trying to get all her baking finished in time.

Which explained the text I had received ten minutes ago, just before lunch.

Rea:That’s it, Evan. Come down here and get Alfonso out of my hair, or you’re going to have to clean up the blood. I have lots of knives to choose from.

Orchid’s dining area faced the ocean to take advantage of glorious tropical sunsets, but I headed for the single door on the eastern, back side of the building. It slammed open, careening off the wall. Rea stormed out, dressed in a white smock and with her eyes blazing. All five-foot-two of her. Raising her hands, she smoothed her brown hair as she paced back and forth, readjusting the neat bun at the nape of her neck.

Probably trying to calm herself down.

Glancing up, she spotted me, and frustration replaced the anger in her eyes. “Evan, I’ve had it with him.”

I stopped before her, both palms out. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“And what good will that do? Alfonso needs a personality transplant, not a talking-to.”

I didn’t disagree, but as the resort’s general manager, I had to tread carefully. “Just take a break for a while. I’ll tell him to work in a different area of the kitchen and leave you alone.”

She exhaled a long sigh. “I’m finished baking. Lainey is coming from Dorado to pick up the donuts and croissants. My desserts for tonight are ready, though I was sorely tempted to smash the coconut cream pie in Alfonso’s face.”

Rea still had a couple of hours left in her shift, but that didn’t matter if she was caught up.

“Do you want to take off early?” I asked. “It’s okay with me.”

She shook her head. “I’ll help out in Dorado. I’m sure they could use a hand with the breakfast rush.” Then she scowled at me, cocking one hip to the side. “And Alfonso isn’t the only one I’m mad at. Carissa told me you’ve been bringing donuts from Sweet Dreams into the dive shop breakroom every morning. What, mine aren’t good enough for you?”

Dammit, Carissa!

I resisted the urge to tug on my beard. Getting mad at the dive shop clerk wouldn’t do any good. “Of course they are—your pastries are fantastic. I’m just trying to help a new business in town, that’s all. We still sell out of your stuff every morning.”

I wasn’t about to admit the real reason I kept returning to the small bakery on neighboring Dove Key.

Several months ago, I’d been strolling along Main Street when I entered Liv Jacobson’s new bakery. Lured in by the delicious scent wafting out the open door, where the owner herself waited on me. Liv had stunning, long, curly hair and appeared close to my own age of thirty-one. The next week, I’d returned. Then the next week too.

After a month, I could no longer convince myself that my visits were just a convenient stop as I headed to town for other things. Liv’s eyes were a warm green, and her round figure promised she’d be soft and perfect in allthe right places.

We’d struck up a friendship of sorts. One of those curious, superficial relationships where we were friendly and discussed our days every time we met in Sweet Dreams. She didn’t know who I was, and I liked the safe anonymity of our relationship. Being a Markham was complicated enough. Being the lame one was worse.

Except the pink boxes I brought back to the resort had been noticed. First, my brother Gabe had given me a hard time about it. He had moved home to shore up the resort’s flailing bottom line and wanted to make sure I wasn’t expensing off my donut trips. I’d assured him it was all my own money, blushing furiously as I did. Our sister Maia had noticed the boxes too. And now Rea knew about it.

The pastry chef’s frown hadn’t lightened much. “Evan, she’s competition!”

“Oh, she is not. No one from Dove Key is going to drive here for a damn donut. Or the reverse.”

She burst out laughing. “Well, that’s not true, is it? You do.”

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