He knows. About me and Summer, he knows.
And that’s why he’s really here. He doesn’t want to thank me. He wants me to be aware that he’s aware.
I keep my face and tone neutral as I say, “It was no problem, sir.”
His eyes narrow for only a moment, but I know what it means all the same. He’s sizing me up. He’s trying to suss out if he should be worried or not.
He shouldn’t. I have no intention of harming Summer.
You also had no intention of even starting anything with her, and look how that turned out.
I drive the thought away.
He nods, like he’s satisfied with whatever goes unsaid between us, then says, “How’s the remodel going?”
“Good. We’re just about done. There are a few more days left on construction, then the grand opening is after Noah and Odette’s wedding.”
“Ah. Explains why my kitchen looks like a war zone.”
I tip my head to the side, unsure what he means.
“Summer,” he explains. “She’s been cooking up a storm, working on the menu. She’s testing recipes left and right. Pretty sure I’m going to burst if I have to eat another brussels sprout or mac and cheese ball.”
Relief floods me. She’s not avoiding me. She’s cooking.
Now that I know, it makes me happy she hasn’t been around. I’m glad she’s feeling inspired enough to stay away. And I hope more than anything it was because of our conversation the other night.
“White cheddar and Gouda?” My stomach rumbles at the thought of the last time she made mac and cheese for me. I don’t know how she turned something so simple into a culinary experience, but she did.
“Yep. She’s adding Parmesan too. Really kicked it up a notch.”
I grin at that. I wish I could be there to see it, but I understand that this is her process. She can have it for herself—for now.
Sheriff Turner relaxes for the first time since he came in here and leans against the boards. I do the same. “I haven’t seen her this happy since she was leaving for culinary school. I guess I have you to thank for that too.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Me? What’d I do?”
“You have given her the space to do her thing. Gave her a nudge.” He sighs. “Honestly, I was scared she was going to give up after Chicago.”
Summer’s been fairly tight-lipped on what happened there. All I know is that she had a shot at her dream, and she lost it. She’s never given specifics, but whatever they are, it’s obvious they had an impact on her confidence.
“That old boss of hers was a real piece of work. Used to berate her for the smallest mistakes, even when they weren’t her fault. Change themenu on her at the last minuteafterhours of prep, then blame it all on her for not being able to handle it. She wanted to be an executive chef so badly, she kept her mouth closed and took it.”
I can’t see Summer ever letting someone walk all over her like that. She’s never let me do it, that’s for damn sure. Never had an issue standing up for herself, and I’ve always admired that about her.
Is that what rattled her? Her old boss? Is she ... Is she worried I’m going to do that same thing?
“I was proud as hell of her when she finally spoke up for herself,” the sheriff continues. “Sure, she could have chosen a better time to do it—not in the middle of dinner rush and maybe not have yelled at the entire kitchen and stormed out—but still proud.” He frowns. “They blacklisted her in Chicago.”
I whip my head toward him. “What? Are you serious?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t. She never ...” I clench my teeth, shaking my head. “She never told me.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s embarrassed as hell over it. She feels like she failed. Hell, I don’t think I’d even know she was blacklisted if I weren’t following food blogs, looking for any mention of how incredible a chef my daughter is. Didn’t expect to see the whole debacle getting picked apart in the comments.”
I want to tell him never to read the comments, but I’m still reeling from this new piece of information.
