30. Brie
“Ezra?” I called when I unlocked the door to the winery and stepped inside.
Instantly, I was cocooned in the coziness of the building. Outside, a storm was brewing, and I was grateful for my all-wheel drive keeping me from sliding into the ditch on the slick roads on my way up. In fact, the snow was coming down so thickly, I’d almost called Ezra and cancelled.
Thankfully, not because of Ella, who had been adamant I keep the date, but because travel conditions were growing treacherous.
But I wanted to see him, so I braved the blizzard.
Despite the fact that no Def Leppard greeted me from the direction of the kitchen this time, the sense of déjà vu was as forceful as a gut punch.
On this same day three years before, I’d arrived here for what was supposed to be a simple afternoon of cooking with the super-hot new chef.
What I ended up with was so much more than that.
“In here!” he responded, and I followed his voice to the dining room.
I gasped when I turned the corner and the scene unfolded before me.
The house lights were dimmed, and what seemed like hundreds of candles glowed around the space, atop each of the tables and along the mantle, above the crackling fire lit in the hearth. In the center stood Ezra, alongside a table topped with two domed dishes and a bottle of white wine.
“How is it possible you’ve gotten more beautiful since yesterday?” he asked.
My cheeks heated, and I was grateful for the low lights hiding the worst of it. My outfit wasn’t anything fancy—a simple black wool sweater and velvet skirt set I paired with tights and black satin pumps, minimal makeup, and a loose fishtail braid in my hair. I felt impossibly sexy, and by the way Ezra’s gaze raked over my body from head to foot, I knew he thought the same.
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m actually not,” he assured me. “You’re the most stunning, most astonishing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, Brie.”
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself, Chef.”
He crossed the room to greet me with a peck on the cheek then grabbed my hand and led me to my chair.
“What is all this?” I asked.
Once we were seated, he said, “It didn’t make sense for us to go to some fancy restaurant when I’m the best chef I know.”
I grinned, not bothering to refute him. His food was without a doubt the best I’d ever tasted, and I found his confidence in himself sexy as hell.
“So what did you make for me?”
Ezra leaned across the table and, with a flourish, lifted the cover from my plate .
“Your meatballs!” I exclaimed with a laugh. “Finally!”
“You did demand I feed them to you one day,” he reminded me. “So your wish is my command.”
“And I’m assuming these are your infamous glazed dill butter potatoes?” I asked, pointing at the thinly sliced spuds fanned out on one side of my dish.
“And roasted veggies,” he confirmed. “So dig in.”
Excitedly, I picked up my fork and sliced a meatball in half, dragging it through a bit of the gravy he’d drizzled on top before bringing it to my lips. The scent of fragrant herbs and seasonings invaded my senses, and I popped the bite into my mouth. The second I closed my lips around it, I moaned.
Something so simple had no right being that delicious. As I chewed, the flavors exploded on my tongue, and I closed my eyes as I savored the complexity. The firmness of the meatball combined with the creaminess of the gravy was the most perfect pairing, and I wanted to eat these every day for the rest of my life.
“Well?” Ezra asked when I opened my eyes, his own plate still untouched.
“That’s the best meatball I’ve ever had.”
I’d offered Ezra plenty of compliments over the years, and I knew thousands of other people had as well, but I’d never seen him blush with the praise like he did then. The knowledge that I was responsible had pride and satisfaction rising in my chest.
God, he was beautiful. I thought so every time I looked at him. With his brown hair that was longer on top and swept over his head in waves, brown eyes like pools of melted chocolate, square jaw, straight nose, and high cheekbones—well, he was downright pretty. Though he shaved daily, dark facial hair constantly shaded his cheeks and chin, the promise of the beard I was certain he could grow but had never seen. It gave him a slight air of ruggedness that truthfully had my panties wet from a simple cursory glance in his direction.
Assured that I was enjoying myself, Ezra dove into his own food, and we chatted about nothing and everything—but mostly, we talked about my plans for the bakery for the next four months while business slowed to a glacial crawl.
“Well, thankfully,” I started, licking the final bit of gravy off my fork in a way that had Ezra’s eyes darkening, the chocolate depths almost wholly overtaken by his darker pupils. “I don’t need the shop revenue to survive, but my online store will stay open, so I’ll still be making an income from that. I was actually approached by the community center to host a few baking classes, so I’ll have that to fill my time as well.”
“Will you host those at the bakery?” he asked, his voice a low rasp that had goosebumps skittering across my skin. We weren’t talking about anything intimate, and yet, his entire demeanor had shifted.
Clearly, he was hoping the evening would head in that direction, and when he shifted his leg out and brushed my calf with the toe of his shoe, I was hard pressed to find a reason why it shouldn’t.
“Yes,” I breathed, and my heart rate kicked up. “There’s plenty of room in the kitchen to host ten or fifteen people.”
“That’s great,” he said absently. “Will you share a recipe from Granny’s cookbook?”
“Of course. Gotta keep those family traditions alive.” I gnawed on my bottom lip, holding back my deepest desire, unsure if speaking it into the world would somehow bite me in the ass later.
“What aren’t you saying?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on my mouth.
I sighed, hating and loving how well he knew me in equal measure.
“I have this dream…” I trailed off. I dropped my voice to barely above a whisper. “I want to write a cookbook.”
Ezra blinked, surprised, but then his face broke into a broad grin. “You’d write the best damn cookbook out there,” he said firmly.
“You think?”
“I know .”
“I just…have all these ideas running around.” I tapped my temple. “And I’ve implemented some of them at the bakery, but… Is it greedy of me to want to expand?”
“Of course not. You’ve worked your ass off to make that bakery a success in this small town, and the take-and-bake mixes were a truly ingenious idea. I know the people across the world who have purchased them would love the chance to own a full book of your recipes.”
“And Granny’s. I couldn’t do it without her.”
“Well, of course not,” he agreed, reaching across the table for my hand. “And I love that she’s been able to give you something so special even though she’s no longer here.”
“Me too.” I gave him a watery smile, my nose stinging with emotion at how easily he accepted this was something I was going to do, how quick he was to support me.
This man—I didn’t deserve him, but I’d spend forever proving my worth anyway.
“What would you call it?”
I grinned, loving that he knew me well enough to understand I’d already had that figured out.
“‘The Granny Smith Collection: Traditional Recipes with Modern Flair,’” I said proudly. “Or something like that. But I know I want Granny to be the headline.”
“Even though you’re doing all the work?” Ezra asked.
“But I didn’t do all the work. Probably seventy-five percent of my recipes are ones I’ve taken from her cookbook and updated. Honoring her is the only way I’ll do it.”
“Fair enough.”
I dropped my gaze to the table and added, “We could…work on it together. Make it a full-fledged cookbook instead of just pastry recipes.”
He was silent for so long, I eventually hazarded a glance, bracing myself for his reaction.
His mouth popped open comically in shock. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do. You’re the best chef I know, and people everywhere would love your recipes as much as mine.”
“I’ve never given it much thought,” he said. “But maybe that was because I had too much other shit going on that kept me from pursuing that sort of dream.” He squeezed my fingers. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course you can. Take all the time you need.”
Ezra grinned. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Funny,” I said, matching his expression, “I was just thinking the same about you. ”
Ezra hummed in response, his tongue darting out to trace across his bottom lip, distracting me. But I wasn’t ready to pop this bubble—though I was practically vibrating in anticipation of where I knew the night would lead. Still, I wanted more time to enjoy this moment, reminiscent of us chatting on the phone but being able to reach out and touch him if I felt like it.
“What do you plan to do with your time off?” I asked.
“A little of this, a little of that,” he said noncommittally, and I groaned.
“C’mon, Chef. You can do better than that.”
His eyes met mine then, their chocolatey depths turning molten in the candlelight. “You promise you won’t laugh?”
“I would never laugh at you.”
“I want to start a community garden.”
I blinked in surprise, which quickly morphed into genuine excitement. “Ezra, I love that idea.”
“Yeah?” he asked, still unsure.
“ Yeah ,” I promised. “The community would love that, and it’d be a great way to teach kids about the benefits of growing their own food, as well as the hard work that goes into it.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking!” he exclaimed. “At Thanksgiving, I mentioned to Liam about setting up an appointment with him and Amara, and that’ll be happening sometime after the new year. We can’t exactly move on construction until the snow melts and the ground thaws, but I want to get a jump on design and ordering seeds and starters. Dad and Jay are excited to contribute to the project as well.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, but…you should ask Ella for help. ”
“I should?”
“She’s…Alfie dumped her.” I knew Ella wouldn’t want me to blast her business to everyone, but this was Ezra. I knew my secrets were safe with him. “So she’s struggling right now. And it’s slow at the flower shop in the winter too, so I bet she’d love to help. Plants are kind of her thing, after all.”
“What if I wanted you to help me?”
I shrugged, my insides warming at the thought of working on such a project with him. It would be a great addition to the community, and I fully planned on leaving my mark on it. I envisioned strawberry and rhubarb plants, chives and mint, but I wanted my sister to have something to distract her from her heartache, and there was nothing that girl loved more than having her hands covered in dirt.
“I’d be happy to assist, but you should also ask Ella.”
“Consider it done,” he said, and I grinned.
“Thank you.”
“I hated that Alfie tool anyway.”
I snorted. “We all did. I’m sad she’s hurting, but I know this is for the best.”
Ezra only hummed in response, his thumb drawing lazy circles along the back of my hand.
“So…my dad is watching Hansen tonight,” he said softly. “I mean, he lives with us, so that’s a nightly thing, but what I’m saying is, he’s not expecting me home.”
“Do you want to get out of here?” I blurted, ready to follow the path this night was headed down right until the very end.
Before Ezra could respond, my phone let out a loud alert—the one from my weather app. I withdrew it from my coat pocket and read the message on the screen, then glanced up at Ezra with wide eyes.
“What?” he asked, brow creasing. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, but apparently, the storm is pretty bad.”
Ezra frowned as I rose from the table and made my way toward the doors that led out to the patio. On the wall to the left was a switch that controlled the exterior lights, and when I flipped it, Ezra let out a low curse.
While we’d been wrapped up in our delicious meal and good conversation, the snow had continued to fall. In addition to what we’d already gotten, a few feet more had fallen, the mountain of powder now reaching about halfway up the doors. I didn’t need to look out in the parking lot to know both my Bronco and Ezra’s Subaru were buried.
I gave him a sheepish smile. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere tonight.”
Ezra reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together and squeezing reassuringly. I wasn’t scared or concerned that I had to spend the night here, but I was pleased I wouldn’t have to do it alone.
“Where are we going to sleep?” he asked then waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Or not.”
I let out a girlish giggle at his ridiculousness. “I have an idea,” I said, pulling him out of the dining room and back toward the lobby.
All evening, I’d been giddy, basking in the glow of Ezra’s attention. But that effervescence in my chest increased, as though a host of butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach and their little wing beats made my heart pump faster as I led him toward my favorite family secret. Very few people were granted access to the knowledge, and I couldn’t wait to share it with Ezra.
“The offices?” he asked in confusion.
I merely smiled and shook my head. Since the door that led to the Delatou, Inc. corporate offices was off the lobby, it wasn’t a bad guess, but it wasn’t where I was headed. Instead, I beelined for a door on the opposite side. The keypad to access what lay beyond was carefully concealed behind a panel flush with the wall. Someone would have to be paying extremely close attention to discover it, and even then, without the code, they’d never make it through.
I flicked the panel out of the way and punched in the code less than ten people in the world knew. When the lock clicked free, I pulled the door open.
“After you,” I said to Ezra.
His expression was dubious as he asked, “You’re not taking me down here to kill me, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” I promised him. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it years ago.”
He barked out a laugh and reached for me, pulling me flush against his body and pressing one hard kiss to my mouth. Then he pulled away and descended the staircase into the darkness.