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Carly shook her head. “No, thanks.” She eyed the phone. Jackson was overseeing a kitchen remodel in one of the Airbnb’s down by the lake, and was probably up to his tool belt in countertops and cabinetry right now. As much as she wanted to hear his voice, calling him was bound to interrupt his work day. She’d have to shoot for the next best thing. “I’m going to head to La Dolce Vita and mess with some recipes, maybe flesh out a few more details for this proposal before I turn it in at the end of the week.”
“Okay. Come find me if you change your mind,cucciola.”
Carly padded down the hall, the last glimmer of happiness from her early morning gone like smoke in a wind storm.
* * *
“We’ve gotta stop meetinglike this, or people will talk.” Adrian flashed a crooked, stubble-covered grin from the doorway to the kitchen, reaching up to turn his timeworn baseball hat around. Carly rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop a tiny grin from bubbling up on her lips.
“Ha-ha. Smartass.” She glanced up from the gremolata on her cutting board just long enough to pin him with a wry look.
“Better than being a dumbass. Man, those lamb shanks look all right.” Adrian came closer, turning his attention from the food to Carly just a little too fast for her to cover the stress of her morning. “You, on the other hand, look like shit.”
“For the record, that’s probably not the smartest thing to say to a woman holding a big, fat knife.” Carly finished chopping the parsley and garlic mixture and bent down to the lowboy to grab some lemon juice, but Adrian didn’t budge.
“Is Travis still giving you a hard time?” His words were dark and thick, like molasses that had been in the bottom of the jar too long.
“It’ll blow over.” She reached into the huge stockpot to give the lamb shanks a nudge with a wooden spoon. They’d been braising for an hour, and the savory aroma coming from the pot took the edge off Carly’s sour mood.
“He called me.”
The wooden spoon clattered to the floor tiles with a colorful splash of red wine reduction, but Carly barely noticed. “Hewhat?”
A frown bent the corners of Adrian’s mouth, and he shifted his frame against the stainless steel counter of the work station in front of him. “He called me a couple of days ago. Tried to manipulate me into encouraging you to take him back.”
“Jesus. What’d you say?”
Adrian’s hazel eyes flashed with a hint of satisfaction as he arched a brow toward the brim of his baseball cap. “I told him to fuck off into the sea and hung up on his sorry ass, just like I did when I left Gracie’s to come here with you.”
Carly blinked, still in shock. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you keep getting dragged into this mess.”
“It’s not your fault, Carly. But he’s getting desperate. You ever stop to think about his ulterior motives?” Adrian moved over to the sink at the back of the kitchen to wash his hands, but his attention never left her.
“What ulterior motives could he possibly have, other than to make my life a living hell just because he can?” Carly released a heavy sigh. Would this emotional carousel ever stop spinning?
“I don’t know,gnocchella. You tell me. Because something about this doesn’t sit right.”
Carly’s frown was interrupted by the huff of the swinging doors leading out to the dining room. Gavin, the restaurant manager, tipped his chin at Carly in a serious nod.
“There’s someone here to see you. I told him you were prepping for the day, but he insisted.” A cool look covered Gavin’s features, and Carly’s heart jackhammered in her chest.
“Do you know who it is?”
“Huge guy, blond crew cut, says you’re working together on a project. Do you want me to tell him you’re busy?”
Her heart stopped jackhammering and did a backflip. “No, that’s Jackson. You can send him back.” Carly ran a surreptitious hand over her braid while Gavin disappeared through the doors, eyebrows lifted.
“You’re letting a stranger come into the kitchen?Yourkitchen.” Adrian’s jaw was somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. “Have you lost your mind?”
“We’re not open, relax. Plus, he’s not a stranger. He’s—” Carly stopped short at the sound of the doors thunking open. Jackson peered into the kitchen with uncertainty, but his blue eyes crinkled when he saw her. Carly had never been so happy to lay eyes on someone in her whole life.
“Hey. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I came out to take some more pictures of the proposed garden site for Luke and I saw your car in the lot. I don’t want to bother you, though.” Jackson’s eyes skimmed over Adrian, who had stiffened at her side.
Carly laughed and made her way over to him like she was a magnet and he was crafted of solid steel. “Don’t be silly. We’re not open for hours.” Instinctively, she lifted up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. After a stutter-step of surprise, he returned the favor, and Carly felt her crappy morning recede into bad-memory territory. “Come on in.”
“Wow, it smells great in here,” Jackson murmured, wearing his trademark easygoing smile. Adrian folded his arms over his barrel chest, and Carly bit down on her lip. Maybe that kiss hadn’t been the best idea right off the bat, but Adrian would just have to suck it up.
“Jackson, this is my sous chef, Adrian Holt. Adrian, Jackson Carter. He’s the contractor I told you about.” Of course she’d failed to mention the whole I’m-sleeping-with-him thing, which she’d known would ruffle Adrian’s big-brother-esque feathers.
