Chapter Sixteen
Stick to the Plan
Clo was roasting a damn turkey.
I couldn’t believe it.
Even at Thanksgiving, she complained about how long it took to cook a fifteen-pound bird. How all the time required to season and baste it was a pain in the ass. But here she was, shuffling around the kitchen, her snow-white hair curling up around her ears while she made a feast fit for a king.
Aster scurried around the table setting out the good china.
Lia sat like a lump in our grandfather’s favorite armchair, watching the entire spectacle with a grim expression.
Flora’s gentle doggy snore sounded from the corner.
Her legs twitched like she was chasing rabbits in her sleep. At least someone was calm and relaxed.
Last night I tossed and turned, unable to banish the image of Bryce’s tender gaze as he laid me across the seat.
Worked me to a delicious high with his mouth.
How I’d bolted away from him the second the lights from Lia’s Jeepster flashed across the windshield.
The excuses I’d made about how I needed to get back to the clinic, nearly pushing him out of the truck as I dropped him back in town.
I couldn’t shake the worry that tonight was going to be a disaster. My sisters could easily read my feelings, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through this dinner without spiraling out.
‘Clo, why are you doing this? I don’t think Bryce is expecting this kind of meal,’ I said, frantically stirring the gravy bubbling in the saucepan.
‘Don’t you know anything about The Art of War?
’ She moved around frantically, stacking dishes and wiping off the butcher block island.
This kitchen was her pride and joy. Grandpa Beau thought of every detail when he’d designed it.
A wide farmhouse sink was perfect for washing the plentiful crops from her garden.
He’d torn out the old and weathered tile countertops and put in a soft white granite.
Replaced the ancient double oven and stovetop with state-of-the art appliances.
I often caught her in quiet moments, running her hand over the counters like she could still feel his presence here.
‘Knowing yourself and your enemy is the key to winning,’ she said, scrubbing several knives and setting them in the sink.
‘And you think part of Sun Tzu’s master plan was to fill an enemy to the gills with turkey, mashed potatoes and homemade peach cobbler?’ I said, batting away the thought that what we’d done in my truck was the absolute opposite of war.
‘Of course! Once Bryce is good and stuffed, he’ll be less on his guard. The tryptophan from the turkey will mellow him out. Lull his senses.’
‘So you want him to pass out?’ Aster leaned a hip against the counter, her gaze narrowing on me like she could hear the racing of my heart. Shit. This was going to be bad.
‘No, silly girl!’ Clo shot back. ‘I want him comfortable. It’s easier to extract information that way.’
‘Were you a covert CIA agent at one time? Because the way you’re talking it seems like it,’ Lia called from across the room.
‘I’m not being covert. I’m being protective. This man wants to write about our town. Our personal history. We need to be on guard, cautious about what we say to him, but we also need to find out his plan for the story. How he might try to twist facts as journalists tend to do.’
I shook my head and went back to stirring. In the short time I’d known Bryce, I’d figured out that he was good at reading people and situations. I had no doubt he knew exactly what he was walking into tonight.
The brown gravy with hints of rosemary bubbled in the pot. The dining area was filled with Aster’s sweet hum as she straightened out the white linen tablecloth until Lia stiffened in the chair. ‘His car is coming up the driveway. He’s five minutes early.’
‘That’s fine, because we’re ready,’ Clo said, wiping her hands on the edges of her starched cream apron. ‘Lia, start filling the water glasses. Aster, you open the wine.’ She pointed to a bottle sitting near the edge of the counter.
My sisters did as they were told, and I continued to monitor the gravy. Once I was sure it was the right consistency, I turned off the burner. A few seconds later there was a sharp knock at the door.
Lia glared at me. ‘Someone has to move and answer it.’
‘Fine, but you get over here and stir,’ I ordered.
I jogged to the stairs and Flora was quickly beside me.
Once we were at the bottom, I hesitated in front of the door.
Smoothed down the light curls that hung past my shoulders.
Pressed at the collar of my soft blue T-shirt dress.
I pulled in a breath and ran my hand over my lips.
The sticky hint of deep pink gloss covered two of my fingers.
Did I look like I’d dressed up for him? Thinking it was too much, I dragged the back of my wrist across my mouth, blotting out the color.
Another knock made me jump. I straightened my shoulders and yanked open the door.
Bryce stood in the threshold, and I had to swallow my damn tongue.
His hair was neatly combed back from his face.
A cornflower-blue polo brought out the color of his eyes.
Pink dahlias surrounded by a handful of lavender and baby’s breath sat in a short square glass vase in his hand.
That buzzy feeling warmed my chest again.
I let myself relax into it until Flora barked out her own greeting.
He gave Flora’s head a gentle pat as his gaze slowly raked up my body. ‘Hello, Dani.’
It was criminal the way his low voice lit up my insides. I must have stared at him too long because he said, ‘Are you rethinking your grandmother’s invite?’
‘No.’ I clumsily waved him forward, and he stepped in close, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek.
‘I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.’
He was a damn menace. If he kept staring like he wanted to undress me, we were never going to make it through this meal.
I set my hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle push back. ‘None of that. You need to be on your best behavior. My family is up there, and they’re like freaking emotional barometers. If you give me even the gentlest look, they’ll know something is up.’
He grinned, made an animated cross over his heart. ‘I promise to be a perfect gentleman, at least while other people are around.’
‘Be good,’ I hissed and pointed to the stairs leading up to the kitchen and main living area. That cedar scent of his hung in the air, and I tried not to look like an idiot as I breathed it in.
When Bryce reached the top of the landing, he walked straight toward Clo, who was washing her hands at the sink.
‘Your youngest granddaughter said these were your favorite,’ he said, handing her the arrangement.
Lia and I swung our heads in Aster’s direction.
‘What? He came into the shop and asked. It wasn’t like I was gonna turn away his money.’ She plucked the vase from Clo’s hands. ‘They’re looking parched. I’ll add more water.’
Once the tap was running, she tilted her head to look at Bryce.
A small twitch at the corner of her mouth mimicked the one in the coffee shop.
Could she see his color now? Was it still that same shade of persimmon that matched mine?
Even worse, could she sense the heat between us?
My heart stuttered, and I shoved the idea out of my head.
This was not a moment to think about anything but getting him to reveal what he planned to write in that article.
‘Can I get you a drink? Maybe something with arsenic?’ Lia said in a quiet mumble.
‘Lia!’ Grandmother Clo chided.
‘It’s fine,’ Bryce chuckled. ‘It’s clear that I’m walking into the lion’s den here.’
‘Pour him a glass of wine and be nice,’ Clo ordered.
Lia spun around and did as she was told, filling a glass with a rich red blend and shoving it across the counter toward him.
‘Please sit down. Dinner is almost ready,’ Clo said.
‘It smells great.’ He walked across the open space past the dining table and seating area.
For a minute he scanned the photos hung on the walls.
My breath hitched when he narrowed his focus on the sepia-toned image of Ambrosia and Sylvia.
Thankfully, Flora trotted toward him. He stopped to pet her as she sniffed at his jeans and shirt.
‘Sorry, girl. Indy’s at home tonight.’
Like she didn’t like his response, she spun away and nudged her way out onto the deck. Bryce followed her, stopping at the back wall of windows. The setting sun painted the sky a rich shade of orange, reminding me once more of Aster’s revelation about him.
‘This is a beautiful view,’ he said.
‘My late husband, Beau, built the house in this spot so we could watch the colors rise and fall over the lake in the course of a day.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Bryce murmured before he took a sip of wine.
‘It’s been a long time, and I have all this to remember him by,’ Clo replied.
Bryce gave an understanding nod and sauntered back to the living area. He moved his way around the couch and sank into Grandpa Beau’s armchair.
Lia cursed under her breath, and I pressed a hand against her arm. ‘Remember why he’s here. We need to stick to Clo’s plan.’
She went back to stirring the gravy, which stayed at a brisk bubble even though the burner was off.
Aster plopped the vase in the center of the dining table and went to sit on the chestnut-colored couch across from Bryce. ‘Tell us a bit about yourself,’ she said in her sweet and disarming voice. Bryce eased back into the chair. It was hard not to relax around my kind little sister.
‘Born and raised in Los Angeles. Went to college in the San Francisco Bay Area.’
‘Any brothers or sisters?’ Aster said.
‘Only child.’
‘And your parents?’ she pressed as Clo and Lia pretended they weren’t listening to every word.
‘It’s just me and my mom,’ he said with a short clip.
‘But you have relatives here?’ Aster said.
‘Did,’ he replied grimly.