If You Give a CEO a Chance (Aspen Grove #3)

Chapter 1

T he fall air is cool against my skin as I step out onto my parents’ patio. Fairy lights hang above, casting a soft glow over the space, and the sound of laughter and conversation fills the air. Tonight, we’re celebrating Cash and Everly’s wedding after their surprise Vegas elopement a few months ago. Since our family wasn’t there, my mom was overjoyed when they agreed to a vow renewal so we could all share in the moment.

Everyone’s mingling on the back deck and sampling appetizers while we wait for dinner. I approach Cash, who’s leaning casually against the railing. Everly must still be inside changing into something more comfortable.

Cash is one of my younger brothers and has always been the easygoing type, drifting through life without a purpose. I used to worry he’d never settle down, but then Everly came back into his life, and everything changed.

He flashes me a grin before popping a stuffed mushroom into his mouth. “This is incredible,” he mumbles, barely pausing to swallow. “Fallon really outdid herself. Have you met her yet?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’d like to. My assistant interviewed her last week and thinks she’ll be a good fit as my new private chef.”

Everly’s brother Theo, a world-renowned chef, spoke highly of Fallon, his protégé who specializes in allergy-friendly cuisine. I was diagnosed with celiac disease after years of battling unexplained abdominal pain before a particularly agonizing episode landed me in the hospital, leading to my diagnosis.

I quickly learned that outsourcing household meal prep not only made it easier to stick to a strict gluten-free diet but also allowed me to focus my attention and energy on Stafford Holdings, our family business. It’s the largest real estate firm in the country, which requires constant oversight to ensure every project stays on track and meets our high standards.

When Cash told me Fallon was moving to New York to work as a private chef, I had my assistant contact her since my last chef retired recently. Theo arranged for Fallon to fly to Aspen Grove to cater tonight’s dinner for his sister’s special day, but I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself yet since Fallon’s been tied up in the kitchen all afternoon.

Plus, business doesn’t take a break, even on my brother’s big day. Stafford Holdings is in the final stages of another major acquisition, so while we’re waiting for dinner to begin, I’m reading through an email from our legal team when a voice I never thought I’d hear again interrupts my concentration.

“Is everything to your liking, Cash?”

“Yeah, the food is fantastic. You really outdid yourself, Fallon,” he says with enthusiasm.

“Thank you,” she replies.

“I want to introduce you to my brother Harrison,” Cash says.

The sound of my name pulls my attention away from my phone, and I look up.

My breath falters before setting my mouth into a tight line when I’m met with the gaze of a woman I know all too well. It’s not just those ocean-blue eyes that invade my dreams or the way her tongue grazes her teeth when she’s lost in thought. It’s the fact that I have every curve of her body burned into my memory, even though I only had her for a fleeting moment. Her presence stirs up a memory I’d rather leave buried.

I shove open the double doors to the kitchen, my heart pounding as I glance over my shoulder. A wave of relief sweeps through me when there’s no sign of the puck bunny who was following me. Looks like I lost her when I cut through the service hall. The team invited a group of them to join us tonight, but I wasn’t interested in anyone.

Apparently, being the son of a billionaire real estate mogul and playing professional hockey is enough to make the women chase me like I’m a prize to claim. Granted, at first, I liked the attention. It made the grueling traveling schedule more fun early on in the season, but the novelty wore off quickly, and playing hockey has been my sole focus. Winning the Stanley Cup made it all worthwhile, and better yet, we beat our rivals, the Stormbreakers.

Although the final game was two days ago, the team is still in celebration mode. My family flew home yesterday, but I stayed behind, booking a suite at the hotel for the weekend.

Tonight, the team is hosting a party at one of the event rooms before hitting up a club.

Unaware of my surroundings, I stumble back when I realize I’ve bumped into someone, or should I say a silver tray pressing into my stomach. I glance down at the champagne glasses teetering on the edge, threatening to spill over, and grab the server’s wrist to steady it.

“Are you…” I trail off as I look up and lock eyes with a woman.

Her blonde hair is styled in soft waves, falling to her shoulders, framing her delicate oval face and piercing blue eyes. The scent of vanilla and oranges infiltrates my nose as I take her in.

She’s beautiful.

Her skin is soft under my touch, and an electric jolt races down my spine. She shivers when I let my hand linger, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension. Her breathing quickens as she tips her head to get a better look at me.

She readjusts the tray, raising an eyebrow. “Could you watch where you’re going? I’d hate for you to take a champagne shower and ruin that fancy suit of yours.”

“I don’t mind getting wet, but at least let me buy you dinner first.” I wink.

She snorts. “You’re just lucky it wasn’t the Dom Pérignon, or you’d be footing a hefty bill if it had spilled. They serve the expensive champagne at the top of the night and then switch to the cheaper stuff once everyone’s hammered. No one knows the difference.”

“Except you, right?” I quip.

She sets the serving tray down on a nearby counter and shakes out her wrists. “Sure, if reading labels on bottles is considered a talent.”

A smile lights up my face. I’d be lying if I said her comment doesn’t have my body standing at attention.

“Any chance there’s another bottle of the good stuff in the back? I’d like to share a drink with you,” I say, unabashedly.

She runs her hands down to smooth the wrinkles in her apron. “Depends. Care to explain why you were busting through the door and nearly toppled me over?”

“Wanted a moment to myself,” I answer vaguely. “I’m Harrison, by the way.” I hold out my hand.

She doesn’t appear to know who I am, which is unusual. I’m used to everyone recognizing me, so this is a refreshing change.

The woman stares at me, her teeth skimming her lower lip.

“This is when you tell me your name,” I nudge playfully when she doesn’t answer.

“Elizabeth,” she answers boldly, accepting my hand.

The way her name falls from her lips is soft and inviting.

“A name as pretty as the woman it belongs to.” I smile softly.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “How original. I’m guessing that line works wonders with the ladies, huh?”

I frown. Anyone else would be swooning by now, but Elizabeth just stares at me, unimpressed. Oddly enough, her resistance is captivating.

“So, this is what it’s like to meet someone immune to my charm,” I say, clutching my heart like I’m wounded.

“Charm? I must have missed it. Was it hiding behind that terrible line?” she quips.

“Guess I’ll have to rethink my strategy.” I playfully tap my chin. “This could be fun.”

“As amusing as it is watching you dig yourself deeper, I really have to get back to work,” she says, tapping her foot on the floor.

I might be pushing my luck, but I can’t let the chance to get to know her better slip away. Even if all I get out of it is playful banter, I’ll take every second. Especially since she’s the first woman I’ve been interested in this past year who’s not after me for my family’s wealth or my status as a hockey player.

“Why don’t I take you out after your shift, and you can help me brainstorm a new strategy?”

Elizabeth raises an amused brow. “Did I give you the impression I was interested? What if I’m seeing someone?”

I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels, a smug smile on my face. “If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t be flirting with me.”

Her mouth falls open before she snaps it shut. “I’m not flirting with you,” she says, defensively. “If anything, I’m just trying to get through this conversation without dying of boredom.”

The corner of my mouth twitches up as my smile widens. “Whatever you say, Elizabeth.”

A faint blush rises on her cheeks. “Does this non-date include fries and a Diet Coke, because I could go for both after my shift.”

“You’d choose Diet Coke over Dom Pérignon? I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.”

“Don’t judge. We all have our vices.”

“I promise you’ll get your Diet Coke. Hell, I’d bring you a whole truckload if that’s what it takes.”

She chuckles. “Unfortunately, my shoebox apartment doesn’t have room for that, but I admire the enthusiasm.”

“Then we’ll settle on a six-pack for tonight. It’s a date,” I state.

She laughs softly. “Why do I get the feeling I was just played?”

I shrug, feigning innocence. “What can I say? When I see a shot, I take it.”

“Okay, Mr. Hotshot,” she retorts, biting her lip to keep from laughing, but the sparkle in her eyes gives her away.

“That has a nice ring to it. Guess I’ll have to get my name swapped out on my jerseys for next season,” I say, flashing her a crooked grin.

“You’re really that full of yourself, aren’t you?”

I give her a cheeky nod. “It’s a gift.”

She glances around as she steps around me. “I really do have to get back to work. I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby in two hours,” she says as she heads toward the banquet hall.

“See you soon, Elizabeth,” I call out after her.

As she walks away, another smile stretches across my face. What started as a brief encounter turned into a lasting impression, and I’m counting down the minutes until I get to spend more time with her.

A light tap on my shoulder brings me back to the present.

When I glance over, Cash is staring at me, worry evident in his eyes. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, unable to find my voice. I’m frozen in place, grappling with the reality that Elizabeth, the woman who’s haunted my dreams for the last ten years, is none other than Fallon Hayes, the private chef from London. I never thought I’d see her again, much less in my parents’ backyard.

My mind is racing with questions. Why does she go by a different name? Did she know I’d be here tonight? And the one that still keeps me up at night: why didn’t she ever call?

Fallon raises her chin, straightening her shoulders. “Hello, Harrison,” she says in a clipped tone.

“It’s you,” I state coldly.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Cash, you forgot to mention your brother’s charming ego,” she says.

I scoff. “Is sarcasm part of your standard approach with all of your potential clients? No wonder you had to move to another continent to start your new business.”

Cash mentioned that Fallon recently moved from London, where she worked for Theo. I was told she spent the last few years mastering allergy-friendly cooking, skills that would rival elite chefs. And I can’t help but wonder why she’d give all that up to work as a private chef for a handful of clients in New York.

She scowls, putting her hands on her hips. “At least I’m not the one suffering from a case of superiority complex,” she quips.

Cash’s eyes dart between us. “I take it you two have met before?”

Our heated stares remain locked on each other. “Yes,” we say in unison. Her voice carries a trace of bitterness, which leaves me perplexed.

Fallon breaks the silence first, clearing her throat. “Tell your assistant thank you for the interview request, but you’ll have to find another private chef, Mr. Stafford . I don’t work for boorish narcissists,” she states flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.” She marches across the deck, her hands clenched at her sides.

Cash turns toward me. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Nothing,” I mutter.

He raises a brow. “That was definitely something.”

“Don’t worry about it. You heard her. She doesn’t want to work for me, so case closed.”

If only it was that easy to erase her from my memory. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Cash taps me on the shoulder. “Uh, Harrison. I’m not so sure you’ll have a choice in the matter.”

“Why not?”

He nods toward the back door where Mom has managed to corner Fallon, casting us an amused glance every now and then with a mischievous smile. “I’m pretty sure Mom’s already plotting how to get you two hitched next.”

I rub my temples and let out a heavy sigh. “Jesus Christ, she’s relentless,” I mutter. “She’s wasting her time. Even if Fallon was the last woman on earth, I’d never date her, let alone marry her.”

Not after she… I shove the thought aside. Today is about Cash and Everly, and I’m not letting Fallon take up any more space in my head than she already has.

“Welcome to the mom meddling club,” Cash says, clapping me on the back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my bride.”

Fortunately, my phone rings before I can respond. As I answer the call, my mind keeps circling back to Fallon and her icy reaction to seeing me. It stings, realizing I was right all along. She played me the weekend we met and never actually cared about getting to know me.

After taking another work call following dinner, I stumble upon Fallon alone in the kitchen. She’s at the counter, leaning over a tray of crème br?lée, her brows furrowed in concentration as she caramelizes the tops with a small torch.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I linger in the doorway, taking her in. She’s wearing a gray long-sleeved T-shirt and black pants with an apron tied around her waist. Her blonde hair is tied back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loosely around her face, and freckles dot the bridge of her nose. There’s a smudge of almond flour on her cheek, and I ball my hands into fists, resisting the urge to wipe it off.

She’s even more beautiful than I remember.

The faint smell of vanilla and caramel fills the air, taking me back to the night we met. It’s been a decade since I last saw her, and I remind myself that what happened between us is in the past, and that’s where it should stay.

Her jaw tightens as she moves the flame over the final set of ramekins.

“Is there something I can help you with, Harrison?” she asks, barely giving me a glance.

“Nope. Just craving something sweet that doesn’t leave a bitter aftertaste for ten years.”

“Still as charming as ever. I guess some things never change,” she mutters.

I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t be all bad. Seeing as we barely left the hotel suite all weekend.”

Fallon slams the torch on the counter, shooting me a fiery glare. “Trust me, it wasn’t all that memorable,” she snaps.

I exhale sharply, anger clawing its way to the surface. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual, Elizabeth. Or should I say, Fallon .” I push off the door and approach her. “Why did you lie about your name when we met?”

“Already jumping to conclusions about my character. Why am I not surprised?” she taunts, taking a step closer, her chin tilted upward to meet my gaze.

Being in the same room as Fallon again might make my blood boil, but there’s no denying she’s got courage for standing her ground. That’s more than most people can say when dealing with me. I’ll give her credit for that.

“If you don’t want me to make assumptions, then explain,” I demand, my patience wearing thin.

“Elizabeth is my first name,” she retorts, wrinkling her nose as if the name tastes bitter in her mouth. “When I enrolled in culinary school, I wanted something that felt more me. Elizabeth was too stiff, so I started going by Fallon, my middle name.” She chews on her bottom lip, and I know she’s not telling me the full story, but I’m not interested enough to press further, so I let it go.

“I see. And what’s your excuse for being here tonight? Am I supposed to believe it’s a coincidence that you’re catering at my parents’ house?”

“How dare you insult my motives.” Her voice grows louder, despite the gap between us growing smaller. “I never would have taken this job if I knew you’d be here. Trust me, you’re the last person I wanted to see tonight. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you,” she grumbles.

The bite of her words ignites another flash of fury, and I resent that she can still provoke a reaction when she means nothing to me. The fiery woman I met ten years ago is just as bold now—if not more. Whereas, I acknowledge that I’m no longer the carefree hockey player that she met. I’m the man who grew an empire through discipline and control with no time for distractions, especially ones that come wrapped in trouble and a sharp tongue.

I place my hand over my heart. “I’m wounded, truly.” I lean in, her breath grazing against my neck. “Just be sure not to skip out early tonight. That would be unprofessional.”

Fallon shakes her head. “You’re the only one here who walks away without considering how it’ll affect someone else,” she says, venom dripping from every word.

I recoil, dropping my hand from my chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re kidding, right?” A fleeting shadow of sadness crosses her face before she masks it. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re just another guy who couldn’t see past his ego, and that’s on you. Lucky for me, I dodged a bullet.”

She might as well have slapped me. How dare she put the blame on me when it falls squarely on her shoulders. I thought she was someone capable of earning my trust, but now it’s clear she was stringing me along and is scrambling to save face now that we’ve crossed paths again.

“Consider my offer for employment rescinded.” I take out my phone to send an email to my assistant.

Fallon can’t work for me. Period.

“You can’t take away an offer that I already turned down,” she fires back, pointing at my chest.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, throwing my hands in the air.

“At least we can agree on one thing,” she says, a touch of amusement in her tone.

“What’s that?”

“Working together would be a recipe for disaster.”

She’s got that right.

Fallon might be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and for someone so goddamn beautiful, she has the uncanny ability to push my buttons. That’s not a compliment.

I tuck my phone into my pocket, and as I glance up, I notice a piece of hair that’s fallen across her face, resting above her mouth. There’s something mesmerizing about the curve of her lips, the way they press together in frustration.

Fallon’s tongue darts out, tracing the edge of her plump bottom lip as her eyes flicker up to meet mine, defiance warring with an unspoken pull that I wish didn’t exist. We’re locked in a standoff neither of us wants to lose, yet the tension crackles like a live wire.

“Fallon, is there anything I can do to help—” I spin around to see my mom standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen momentarily before a mischievous grin tugs at her lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Fallon and I say in unison as I take a step back.

My mom’s gaze flickers between us, her eyes sharp with interest.

Dammit.

She’s taken it upon herself to play matchmaker for her kids, and now that I’m the only one still single, I can’t escape her well-meaning meddling. I’m afraid she’s misread my close proximity to Fallon as mutual attraction and will convince herself there’s more between us when there’s not.

At least not anymore.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to after dinner,” Mom comments before turning to Fallon, offering her a warm smile. “I had to come tell you that dinner was outstanding. Theo was right to recommend you. I didn’t think gluten-free beef Wellington could taste that good.”

A faint blush spreads along Fallon’s neck as she gives my mom a polite nod. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’re incredibly talented,” my mom praises. “Harrison is so lucky that you’ll be his new chef. It’s practically impossible to find someone who can make gluten-free dishes that he likes.”

“Figures he’s a tough critic who’s hard to please,” Fallon mutters under her breathe, glancing at the floor.

My mom moves closer. “What was that, sweetheart? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

Fallon lifts her gaze to my mom. “Oh, I said it figures it would be difficult since not many chefs specialize in allergy-friendly dishes.”

Mom lightly squeezes Fallon’s arm. “You have a gift.”

Judging by her expression, I’d think Fallon had unlocked the secrets of the universe. I have to shut this down before her excitement morphs into a grand scheme involving Fallon and me.

“Actually, Fallon isn’t going to be my new chef,” I interject.

My mom’s expression shifts, tightening with disappointment. “Oh no, why not?”

“She’s no longer available,” I answer.

My mom looks at Fallon with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Is there anything we could do to convince you to reconsider?”

Fallon hesitates for a fraction of a second before shaking her head. “I’m afraid not,” she replies.

A pang of disappointment hits me in the gut, which makes no sense. This woman played me, and I should be relieved I never have to see her again. Earlier, I told her I didn’t want to work with her, so it’s absurd to feel even the slightest bit conflicted.

I’ve got to get out of here.

“Mom, let’s give Fallon some space to finish dessert.” I place a hand on her back, gently nudging her out of the kitchen. “Lola couldn’t stop talking about the painting she and Marlow made for Cash and Everly, so let’s not make her wait to give it to them.”

“Alright.” She casts a final glance at Fallon. “Thanks again for the incredible meal. And if you reconsider working for Harrison, don’t hesitate to call his assistant.”

“Of course,” Fallon says.

I can say with certainty she won’t, and that’s for the best. The sooner I can forget about her, the better.