29. Chloe
twenty-nine
Ihaven’t seen Justin since we set up the tents. He said he’d take care of the equipment with the guys later, and now it’s the night before the fair. At the thought of working next to him all day, I can’t sleep. Did I dream our almost kiss at the cottage? Did I imagine the gentle way he talked me off the ledge, when I freaked out in the pub kitchen? Did I make up the way he looked at me when we set up the other day? Yet he hasn’t reached out for more time together.
I toss and turn all night, and when dawn breaks through my blinds a little after four, I give up.
I’m too ramped up to sleep.
When Justin and I assembled poles and hauled tarps and set up tables, it was hot and messy and fun.
But mostly, it was hot. And yeah, the temperature was hot, but also Justin. The only time I’d seen him break a sweat like that was in our hotel room. Not that I need the visual reminder to think back to those moments, but fresh memories assailed me. His locks of hair matted around his face. His heavy breathing.
His smell.
I clasp my thighs together under the sheets, but that doesn’t help, so I snake a hand down and take care of my needs. If not me, who? Justin hasn’t made a move. It’s like he’s avoiding me.
And I get it. His brother Ethan came back, the one he told me about in Boston. I saw it happen. I saw the look on Justin when that hunk of man slapped his back. Justin was shocked, and elated, and in pain. His carefully constructed universe flying open, and he didn’t know where he fit in it. My heart clenches. If he’d let me in, I could help him. I want to.
He’s the best I’ve ever known.
And damn, the look in his eyes when we were alone in the cottage. His breath on my face—I could almost taste him. I wanted to taste him. And he said as much.
I come with his name on my lips, the tremors a temporary relief.
After a quick shower, I take time blow-drying my hair so it looks real good, and put some effort in my makeup. Then I snatch the summer dress Fiona made me buy last year that I haven’t worn yet.
Fiona said it was sexy as hell and I should buy it.
Which, in the out-of-body experience that shopping with Fiona can be, is why I bought it.
Which is also why I never wore it.
Until today.
“How can I make your day aw—Holy smokes!” Millie exclaims when I walk into Easy Monday minutes later.
“You’re open! Thank god,” I answer, ignoring her comment. I guess I do look hot. Good.
Her mouth gapes. “You look fantastic!”
It’s just us in the shop, so I do a little twirl, the skirt of the dress flying up and around my thighs.
The dress is a cream color with tiny flowers all over. The color looks great with my dark hair and summer tan. But what really looks awesome, and the reason I haven’t had the guts to wear it yet, is the way it cinches my waist and pushes my boobs up.
And then it has those little lacy things at the cleavage that make it look innocent and all. The same lace ribbons are repeated on the shoulder straps, and again at the hem.
Said hem is mid-thigh, and the dress closes with a series of buttons all the way down. “Thank you! I thought I should put in a little effort for the fair.”
“Un-hunh, for the country fair with an ox pulling demo and an ax throwing contest and pigs rolling in mud.”
Right. “I’ll be serving food.” I smile.
She fans herself and rolls her eyes. “Road to Heaven, iced?” She turns around before I answer and busies herself at the coffee machine.
“Please. And…” Should I bring something for Justin?
She smiles over her shoulder. “Double iced espresso? Haven’t seen him this morning.”
My stomach flutters at her question. “Y-yes. Please.”
She sets the two containers on the counter. “He deserves to be happy, after everything that happened to him. You take good care of him, yeah?” There’s something in her eyes that makes me stop, and I want to ask her more.
Suddenly I’m back in the hotel room with him telling me about his accident. I’m back at the pub, with him yelling at me. With Haley more concerned than angry at him.
But I won’t ask Millie, as sweet as she is. And as I drive to Clark’s Meadow, the field where the fair is set up, I decide I’ll do everything I can to get through to him.
Even if all I have is a cup of coffee as an offering.
I park my Honda on the expanse of grass marked ‘Parking’ and grab my jeans jacket from the backseat. It’s still early enough for the air to be chilly. As I step out and the dewy grass soaks my toes, I catch a glimpse of Justin at the food tent, then he disappears behind it.
I take quick steps to our stand and find him connecting the generator to the fridges and a deep fryer. He’s wearing faded jeans and a tight T-shirt with his restaurant’s logo on it. He smiles at me, a big, spontaneous smile I didn’t see coming.
“Perfect timing,” he says, his gaze doing a double take the length of my body, his hand shooting out to grab his iced espresso. “Thank you.” He gestures to a wooden bench just outside the tent.
I sit first, my dress inching up, and register him clearing his throat. Oh well.
Taking a deep breath, I let the early morning sounds take over any conversation, for now. Distant voices calling to each other. A hammer clanking against metal. A dog barking. Generators springing to life.
I point my mug to a low corral being set up by a few guys. “Is that your brother, over there?”
“Ethan.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I—sorry, I should have introduced you the other day.”
“Oh, no! No, no, no. That’s…” That’s not why I’m bringing him up. “You guys looked so happy. All of you.” They looked like a pack of oversized puppies, running around and ribbing each other. But Justin had this air about him. He seemed worried. Tormented. Like he wasn’t sure what was coming next. I think back to Millie’s comment. ‘He deserves to be happy, after everything that happened’.
“He seems happy to be here,” I insist, thinking that might start him opening up.
“Yeah,” he says in a low growl.
“You know, what you told me in Boston—”
“Shoulda stayed in Boston,” he snaps.
His anger catches me off guard but doesn’t surprise me. “To be fair, it was meant to stay between us,” I say softly. “If you remember correctly—”
He shuts his eyes. “I remember everything from that night, Clover.”
He remembers everything.I whisper, “You said you wanted me to carry this for you.”
“I did.”
“That’s the opposite of leaving it behind. Leaving it in Boston.”
“So?”
“I’m carrying it for you. You’re not alone in this.”
After a long silence, Justin glances at his army green watch and stands. “We should get started.”
I stand to face him and set my hand on his forearm. Then I let my finger run up the intricate tattoo designs that cover his scars. He shivers but doesn’t move away from me.
He tilts his head down to me, his gaze drops to my lips, then peels itself from me to look over my shoulder into nothingness. The tents across the field. The vans bringing in chickens and pigs and horses. The trees in the distance.
Or maybe his brother.
“What happened in Boston stays with us,” I say. “Forever. No matter what may happen between us.”
His throat bobs.
“But you kept something from me, didn’t you?”
His voice is raspy, like he’s on the brink of tears when he answers, his gaze slicing to me. “That night meant the world to me. Don’t take it away now.”
“I’m bringing it back,” I whisper. “Talk to me.” My head is tilted to his face, my shallow breath taking in his scent.
He places his hand on my hip and pulls me close to him. My traitorous body almost gives in. I almost mold myself to him.
I almost ruin it.
But I need something more important from him. So I twine my fingers in his wandering hand and bring it up to his heart. “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask. His heart beats hard against the back of my hand. “We were supposed to be our true selves that night. But you left something out, didn’t you? You owe me.”
“Nothing is ever just what it seems.” His fingers clench around mine. “I messed up.” He lifts his gaze to meet mine. His brows are furrowed, and there’s pain, so much pain that tears spring into my own eyes. “And as hard as I try, I can’t fix it.”
My mouth is dry, and the words are hard to come. “Then if you can’t fix it, you keep going. You have no choice.” When he doesn’t answer, I take a gamble. “Or else you die, too, in a way,” I say as softly as I can.
He takes a deep breath and straightens himself. His eyes are bright. He looks around the vast field that’s being turned into a fairground as more and more people arrive and finish setting up their stands. His lips curl up and his hand lets go of mine. He takes a step away from me, but his gaze caresses me top to bottom.
“What the fuck is that dress, Sullivan.” Totally changing the subject. Totally throwing me off.
It works. “I… I wanted to look cute for the fair. I don’t have branded T-shirts,” I offer as an excuse.
“Cute for the fair,” he repeats, his body shaking with laughter. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
“We’re not done talking.”
“For now, we are, yeah.” He gives me a playful grin. “Let’s set up.”
We go over the process, set up our stations, and I’m more relaxed than I was at the pub. I think it has to do with the setting. There’s something so down-to-earth about making food in a field. How can you mess it up?
“Containers for the fries, wrappers for the sandwiches. And gloves. Always wear gloves, change them often. Not much running water here.”
A part of my brain registers what he’s saying, while another part is somewhere else.
He takes a break, fists on his hips. “I think we’re in good shape,” he says.
Four hours later, the line snakes all the way to the next stand. My feet are pulp. My dress clings to me from sweat. At some point I twirled my hair on top of my head and secured it with toothpicks.
“A Vermonter, a Crispy Creek, and two Flatlanders,” Justin calls out.
My fingers fly on the register. “Seventeen.” I grab two flavored still waters from the cooler behind me, add them to the bag, and raise my head to smile at the couple in front of me. “Here you go.” I hand them their change, and the guy plops it right back in the to-go mug marked Local Food Bank. “Thanks!”
A group of teenagers huddles to where Justin is. “Um… Three Salamanders. And four Clovers. No. Hold on. Four Salamanders. And four Clovers.” Justin glances at me, and I move from the register to the prep station, slide on a pair of gloves, and start on the Salamanders as they continue with a drink order.
No actual Salamanders are involved. Lol. Cassandra asked that we actually come up with several dishes, and names for all, and Alex advised us to make them catchy for social.
There are clovers involved in the Clover however—our vegan wrap.
“Chloe, you with me?” Justin is sliding the Clovers my way.
I jump. “Yep! Got it.” I finish scooping the pulled pork on the second brioche bun, and wrap it carefully, then move onto the third.
Justin slides behind me to grab the drinks for the group, his hand on my hip lightly moving me to the side as he does, his touch setting me on fire.
He bags the drinks as I wrap the third sandwich, then moves to the register.
I hurry through the last bun but still want it extra yummy with his sauce and the herbs that go on it. “I got it.”
“I know,” he says softly. “Take your time.”
My throat catches at his gentleness. He rings up the big party as I put the last sandwich in their bag.
Then he moves me back in front of the register, his hand falling naturally at my hip again, lingering there for a beat more than is necessary. He keeps me in front of him as he says, “Have a nice day,” to the group, his voice gliding from my ear to my neck and all the way down my spine.
Then I process their credit card, my hip both burning and feeling cold from his sudden move away from me.
The whole time, it’s a steady trickle of people, sometimes a longer line. Toward the end of the morning, Haley and Ethan come by and order an early lunch. They both look between Justin and me with clear interest and amusement, but neither says anything. Cassandra, Kiara, and more people I know, and a lot more I don’t know, keep us busy nonstop.
We go on like that for a while, until there’s a sudden lull. “Where’s everybody?” I ask.
Justin grabs a water from the cooler. “The ox pull. That’s an all-time favorite. You should go and check it out. I’ll hold down the fort here.”
I look around. Our corner of the fair is deserted. We have time to talk some more. I take careful steps toward him, grab a water, start sitting down on the cooler.
“Chloe.”
“I’d rather stay here.”
“Cool, then I’ll go to the ox pull,” he says but doesn’t move. His gaze on me is both annoyed and defiant.
“Fine,” I huff and reluctantly walk away.
“Come back before the end of the pulling contest. We’ll have a crowd then,” he calls after me.
Okay so, he doesn’t want to talk now.
It’s fine.
I’ll get through to him.
I elbow my way to the stands and watch as two oxen, harnessed together, are pulling a contraption that has a bunch of huge rectangular stones on it. Three guys surround them, seeming to coo, or maybe yell, at them. It’s hard to tell with the crowd’s cheers and whistles, and the commentator’s voice coming out of the subpar loudspeakers. I can hardly make out what he’s saying.
What I can make out, is my mother’s voice. Straining my vision, I look around, but the only thing that catches my eye is movement in the back of Grace’s massage tent. It looks like she’s taking five, but not in a good way. Before I can worry about what’s wrong with her, my mother’s voice sounds louder.
“Why there she is!” I jump and look behind the bleachers. Mom, Aunt Dawn, and Brendan are standing there, all looking at me. Mom has one eyebrow disapprovingly twitched up. No surprise there. Aunt Dawn looks downright worried, and Brendan’s fists are shoved down his pockets.
I square my shoulders, ready for the family firing squad, and elbow my way down to them.
Aunt Dawn’s eyes are batting like mad. “I couldn’t believe it when Chef Samuel said you were here.”
I let that slide for now. “Why has no one called me?” I look for my phone in my back pocket, but I’m wearing a dress with no pockets, and it hits me that I’ve left my phone in my car. Shoot.
Mom’s lips are pinched disapprovingly. Why does my gaze even glide to her? Of course she disapproves.
“It’s good to see you!” I say and give them each a peck on the cheek, getting only a lukewarm greeting at best.
“I wanted to show the restaurant to your Mom, and Brendan needed to meet some people here, so we decided on a whim to make an outing of it… We’ll let you to it,” Aunt Dawn says, taking Mom’s arm under hers and stepping away.
“We’ll be right back!” Mom says over her shoulder. “Just want to check out this custom jeweler.”
Brendan shuffles his feet.
A little advance notice would have been nice. I’m not sure how much I believe this visit was unplanned. “The reason I’m at the fair—”
“Chloe, you don’t need to explain yourself. I trust you.”
“Really? Because,” and I try to keep my voice in control. Kind and gentle and understanding, “because it doesn’t look like it.”
“I know. Mom… Mom wanted to show her sister-in-law the place. And I guess Aunt Pamela seemed excited to see where you worked, and I wanted to come to the fair anyway to meet with some folks I don’t get to see that often, so it just happened. They tried to call you all morning to tell you we were on our way, but you weren’t picking up. And while we were here, Samuel—Chef,” he corrects himself, “kinda…”
“Yeah?”
Brendan crosses his arms. “He kinda let it slip that in his opinion the restaurant shouldn’t be represented at the fair.”
Samuel’s opinion is worth shit, but it’s my fault for not sharing my suspicions with Aunt Dawn earlier. I should have spoken up right off the bat, hired a new chef. But would she have agreed to it? It’s almost like she was brainwashed.
Brendan continues, “And then something caught fire in the kitchen—”
“What caught fire?”
“I wasn’t there. Someone in there took care of it. Clearly. And then Chef said if you weren’t there when there was a kitchen fire…” He lets the sentence hang, his hands parting.
“He said that, huh?” Samuel totally hyped up the whole thing.
“I’m sorry, Chloe.”
This is beginning to sound like a letting go meeting, and I know it isn’t. But it could be. “Look, Brendan. I’m not Uncle Kevin. I’m bound to do things differently. And I’ve never owned a restaurant. I was clear about that, going in. The reason I accepted, is that I know how business works. I can read a PL Statement.”
“That’s not why we needed you, Chl—”
“But you see, Brendan. That is why you need me. I walked in here thinking I would just tick boxes on a daily to-do list. And it took me only two hours—two hours—to find out that you guys are deep in the red. You know that. So I’m looking into why that is. And I don’t have all the answers yet. But I will.”
“Appreciate it,” Brendan says.
“Your dad was having a lot of problems.” I’m not sure how much he knows. At some point I’ll have to share everything with him, but I’d like to have some answers first. Solid solutions. And I’m getting more than annoyed at Samuel for not giving me the financials I need from him—mainly, a reliable costing. So the fact that he threw me under the bus with my family is not helping his case.
Brendan narrows his eyes on me. “He mentioned the owner of the pub, a coupla times. His landlord. That the fellow you’re at the fair with?”
I nod. “The town asked that we put something together. I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to say no. I’m getting a vibe of some kind of… rift between the restaurant and the town. Any idea where that came from?”
He shakes his head. “Never heard anything of the sort. The only problem Dad ever had was with his landlord, from what I know.”
“We need to think more local,” I say, jumping topics. Something’s been bothering me, and I have to ask. “Why… why didn’t Uncle Kevin get some meat from you?”
He shrugs. “He always let his chef do the ordering.”
Uh-huh. “Does Samuel know what you do?”
“Oh yeah, yeah. I think he likes to always go through the same wholesaler. Can’t blame him. It’s simpler.”
“Uh-huh.” I look at the food tent and decide against walking back there with Brendan. He doesn’t like Justin. There’s no point making waves now.
Aunt Dawn and Mom return.
“Dad trusts—trusted him,” Brendan adds.
“Samuel? What a darling,” Aunt Dawn says, like she knows exactly what we’ve been talking about. “I don’t know what we’d do without him. Did you know he offered to manage the restaurant for us?”
He what? This isn’t a standing-up conversation. And I really need to get back to Justin. “Are you guys staying the night? Can we continue this conversation later?”
“We actually need to leave,” Aunt Dawn says.
“Chloe!” Mom gasps, ignoring my question. “Why you could go back to the City!”
My jaw drops open. Yes, I could. But Aunt Dawn can kiss her restaurant goodbye. “I—I don’t think running the restaurant without a manager is a good idea. Unless…”
“Unless?” Aunt Dawn and Brendan ask at the same time.
I lower my voice. “Unless Samuel is offering to buy into the restaurant.”
Aunt Dawn raises an eyebrow. “No. He’s… he’s not ready to do that.”
“He’s mentioned he might be considering… leaving,” Brendan says under his breath.
“Brendan!” Aunt Dawn chastises him.
“We didn’t tell you anything. This stays between us,” Brendan adds.
“Did he say why?” People start coming out of the ox pull, which means Justin is going to need my help, but I need to know.
Aunt Dawn clears her throat. “Your name came up.”
Of course.
Mom gasps. “I can’t believe this man is-is-is questioning Chloe’s abilities. It’s preposterous! No offense, but Chloe is doing you a favor. She’s overqualified here.” Wow, Mom is defending me? I wonder why she can’t do that in front of Dad.
“Mom, it’s okay. I’m fine helping out family.” I give Brendan and Aunt Dawn a sweet, genuine smile. “And I’ll be sure to be more mindful of Chef Samuel. I’ll leave my corporate habits at the door.”
“That’d be lovely, honey,” Aunt Dawn says, clearly unphased by her sister-in-law’s haughtiness.
“Dad always said the restaurant would be nothing without him,” Brendan says. “He nearly lost it when the other guy left to go work next door.”
Aunt Dawn wraps me in a goodbye hug. “That King man hurt your uncle a lot, Chloe. I warned you about him. Be careful.”
Brendan gives me a quick hug. “We should head back.”
Mom lets Aunt Dawn and Brendan leave before giving me her air kisses. “It breaks my heart to see you here, honey. This is not your place,” she murmurs.
“I like it here, Mom. It’s not that bad.”
“Oh, stop it!” She laughs her airy laughter like I’ve cracked the funniest joke ever, then her laughter dies, and she says, “Daddy was very upset to hear you were going to work here. We even got into a fight about it, if you can imagine. Both agreeing, actually. Daddy… your father always had something against Kevin, never understood it, but anyhoo.” She takes a deep breath and looks at me straight in the eye, no BS. “He’s agreeing to take you on at the office, if that means you won’t be working in this village.”
“I really have to get back to the tent, Mom, but… is this why you came? To tell me that?”
She does a little tip of the hip, a dip in her knees, that’s meant to look cute but is just annoying. “I told Daddy I’d talk to you. He hates knowing you’re here even more than me.”
Seriously. What is wrong with them? “Tell Dad it’s a temporary job. Just a few weeks, couple months tops. He has nothing to worry about.” This is not a lie.
Her features relax. “Okay, dahling, I have to run. Your aunt Dawn and her shepherd son are waiting,” she says, thinking she’s amusing. “Ladi-da!”
I walk quickly back to the tent.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I take my place behind the register, smiling at strangers while trying to read Justin.
We fall back into our teamwork, saying nothing, occupied with the constant orders.
“Cooler’s almost empty,” I inform Justin at some point.
“We’ll be sold out of food soon,” he answers.
“Oh.”
He shrugs. “Getting late anyway.” Then, with a wink, he adds, “We’ll just send them to town.”
We close the tent fifteen minutes later.
“Sorry I dropped the ball on you,” I say when we’re alone.
“Figured something happened, and then Alex said she saw you talking to a guy?” he tells me as we’re cleaning the space. Not exactly angry but not exactly happy either.
“My cousin.”
His features relax. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. No.” Someone’s playing me. My family? My chef? A little bit of both.
The knot I feel in my gut feels oddly familiar.
He smirks. “Yes or no? What was the problem?” His gaze on me is like a light blanket, shielding me from the world out there. He stops what he’s doing, waiting for an answer.
“Um.” I blink several times. What was the problem again? “Nothing. Just a misunderstanding.”
“Great,” he says, his warm gaze all over me. “We’ll break this down tomorrow,” he continues, gesturing at the tent and all its contents. “But I need to bring the generator and a couple things back to the dude who lent them to me.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. He needs it for tomorrow.”
“How far is it?
“Couple hours away, over the mountain. Couple hours to get back.”
“I’ll come with you.” Fours hours on the road. Lots of talking time. Lots of being together.
He blinks at me, and I brace for his pushback.
It doesn’t come. He just shrugs and mumbles. I take it as a yes.
This time I pluck my phone out of my handbag and text the group chat I have with the restaurant.
Me: Something came up. See you tomorrow.
Samuel: We got you.
His answer sits uncomfortably with me, and I decide to forget the restaurant for tonight.
I don’t feel supported. I thought I was leaving that life behind, the double standards, the betrayals.
But no.
The only place I feel safe right now is with Justin.