Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.
–Harriet Van Horne
Scarlett
“You know, this is like a sign. We should stay here forever and not go back to New York.”
I shake my head. “That’s not going to work for me.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes, and then Fred pipes up again.
“Did you try calling?”
I know what she’s asking without having to clarify. I’ve been moping about Guy since we got here Christmas morning. “I did before we left the airport. It rang, but he didn’t answer.” I put on the turn signal to head north from Main Street in the heart of Blue Falls. We’ll be back at the ranch within ten minutes.
“He’s probably busy with his sisters.”
I appreciate that she’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working.
“Maybe.”
Or maybe he’s avoiding you, the insidious little voice whispers inside me. Why did I let everything get to me? Why did I run, again? I’ve been making one-sided bargains to the universe all morning that I won’t run anymore, if only I can get back to New York and track Guy down.
The airport was a nightmare. Packed with travelers. We got stuck in line at security while someone coughed behind us like they were carrying the plague, and even after all that our flight was cancelled due to a blizzard in the city.
At least I’ll get to spend more time with my family. The only bright spot in this terrible week.
We rumble down the long driveway and as the house comes into view, so does an unfamiliar car out front.
“Who’s that?” Fred asks.
“I have no idea.” I don’t recognize the black town car.
Before we’ve even come to a full stop, a tall figure emerges from the front door and jogs down the steps.
“Is that—?”
Fred hasn’t even finished her sentence and I’ve fumbled out of my seat belt and leapt out of the car like it’s on fire.
I only make it two steps, and then he’s there, showing no signs of slowing.
“What are you—?”
His arms surround me, strong bands of comfort, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
I’m not complaining. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around his waist, pressing my body to his. A mixture of emotions swirls like soup in the pot of my body: shock that he’s here, joy, relief, undying gratitude. It’s really him. He’s really here and he’s really kissing me. I don’t want to let him go, afraid if I do, he’ll disappear, and this will all be some kind of surreal dream.
Some time passes before he pulls back and then rests his forehead against mine.
“Hi,” he says between breaths.
“Hi.”
He swallows. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I overreacted, and then I panicked, and I ruined everything.”
“No. I shouldn’t have been dismissive of you, even if it was just to get Oliver off my back.”
“No, I should have—”
“We get it,” Fred calls out, walking in a wide circle around us to reach the house. “You’re both morons.”
Granny is on the porch and she ushers Fred inside. “I’m glad you’re here. I need your help . . .”
They disappear and then it’s only the two of us out in the chilled December air.
“How did you get here?” I ask him.
“Oliver’s private plane.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I sort of threatened to quit the restaurant project.”
Astonishment has me jerking back to back to stare up into his face. “Seriously? You shouldn’t have done that for me.”
He rubs his hands up and down my arms. “It wasn’t entirely for you. You were the impetus that made me realize it wouldn’t work with Oliver. Not if it continued like it was. Oliver was using his financial backing as a means to make him the dictator of our business decisions. And I was letting him. If I hadn’t stood my ground, the relationship would have become toxic and it wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. Really, you saved me from making a terrible decision.”
“Wow. But after that, he let you use his plane?”
He smiles, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “He came with me. And he agreed to leave a portion of the real estate to Crawford and Company so your deal with them can continue and you won’t feel beholden to me or Oliver for renting it.”
“That’s amazing.” I can’t believe he did it. He really did it, just like he promised. I should have trusted him all along.
“There’s more.” His eyes move from mine, one hand coming up to rub a strand of my hair between his fingers. “We’re going to rent out the other portion of the lot, on a rotational basis. We already planned to have guest chef nights at both restaurants, and this way we can have a variety of options for outdoor venues, too. I want your help with that part, though.”
“You do?”
“Maybe you could help me vet some of the trucks?”
My mouth is hanging open. I snap it shut. “Of course.”
His shoulders drop, sudden tension releasing from them. “Good.”
“There’s only one more thing we have to resolve, then.”
His eyes search mine. “What is it?”
“If our weird really matches.”
He lets out a bark of laughter, his head falling back. “Oh, it definitely does.”
“How can you be so sure?”
His hand comes up the back of my neck, tangling in my hair and tugging my head back gently. He presses closer. Our mouths are inches apart.
“I’m not perfect,” he says.
I gasp in feigned shock.
“And neither are you.”
“Hey.”
He smiles, a brilliant flash that momentarily blinds me. “You’ll be the spotlight that helps me find and smooth all my jagged edges and bad behaviors. I’ll keep you safe and supported when you feel the urge to flee. I might even rescue you if you ever get caught on a doorknob, in a chandelier, or a . . .” He shrugs. “Giant sombrero.”
I laugh.
He continues. “Together, we are better than perfect. We’re two flawed humans who care about each other.”
I blink back tears. “You might be right.”
He leans in, but instead of kissing me like I want, he slides against me so our cheeks are pressed together. Then he whispers in my ear, “I love you.”
The tears are leaking out now. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
“I love you, too.”
Then he’s kissing my tears and the only place I ever want to hide again is in the shelter of his arms.
“Y’all about done out here?” Granny calls out. “I could use some help feeding the chickens before dinner.”
I lean around Guy. Granny’s on the front porch, watching us with a pipe in her mouth.
Guy and I exchange a smile, then hand in hand, we head up to the house.
“You’ve got a Michelin-rated chef at your disposal and you want him to feed the chickens?” I ask.
“We don’t need any of that highfalutin’ food around here. My brisket is better than anything you’re gonna find in those fancy city places. And if you young folk think you’re sharing a bed under my roof before you’re married, you better think again,” she grumbles.
Guy pulls me close, whispering in my ear, “I’ll sneak into your room later.”
“I’m counting on it,” I whisper back.
He leans in again. “I brought condoms for you to hide wherever you want.”
I laugh so hard I almost run into the wall.
Yep. Perfect.
The End