Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Ford was missing a pastry chef. The fiery redheaded one he couldn’t get out of his head.
Granted, Colby had been living there rent-free since he’d first stepped off the island ferry, but what had once been a cottage-size corner of his brain had been expanded to a rancher on New Year’s Eve, then to a full-blown mansion a month ago.
Ever since those two almost kisses.
One his, one hers.
No repeats—or the real thing—since.
She’d been working nonstop, her usual too-many hours at the restaurant and shop, plus fielding Beard finalist interviews, preparing for the Render and cookbook photoshoots, and spending more hands-on time with Ada at the pastry station.
They were each a force to be reckoned with, so their combined efforts were making dessert a can’t-miss dazzler each night.
For his part, Ford had thrown himself into all things not Colby.
Endless hours researching memory care facilities in Atlanta, plus more time buried in his spreadsheets, more time in Boston prepping for Chess’s opening there, and while he was in the city, more time with Miles.
The ER doctor’s hospital gossip was endlessly entertaining, his advice on all things Meemaw invaluable, and his foodie sensibilities a welcome change from Josh, who’d considered anything besides American cheese too froufrou.
He enjoyed Miles’s company and enjoyed having another friend he could confide in.
But this evening, Ford needed his best friend and head pastry chef for a very particular purpose.
They were celebrating the original Chess’s third anniversary later that month, and the last dish he needed to confirm for the special menu was dessert.
Colby usually did a riff on one of Miller’s mom’s desserts for the anniversary dinner.
Ford had begged her for peach this year as the fruit was coming in early, but she hadn’t confirmed yet either way.
And he had to get the final menu to the printer tonight.
He didn’t see her behind the pastry station, didn’t find her in his office, the freezer, or pantry, and didn’t bother sending anyone to check the restroom as Ada had already told him she wasn’t in there.
Which just left the dining room. But she’d been gone longer than usual to deliver dessert to a table.
“Hey, Clancy,” he called as the bespectacled doctor rounded the hearth. “Is Colby out there?”
“Yep,” he said with an enthusiastic nod, his black-rimmed glasses slipping down his narrow nose. “She’s hitting on the sexy silver fox at the bar.”
Ford’s stomach dropped. He’d bet his annual salary that it wasn’t just any sexy silver fox. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.
He hustled the length of the kitchen and peeked around the corner.
Sure enough… Fuck!
Heart in his throat, he whipped back around and ran smack into Clancy, who whispered conspiratorially, “Why are we hiding and not spying?”
“Because that’s the guy I’ve been seeing in Boston.”
Clancy’s bushy brows raced north, and his mouth rounded into a comical Oh.
Ford peeked again. That was definitely Miles in all his silver-haired, blue-eyed glory, smile bright in his salt-and-pepper beard as he laughed at something Colby said. Charm meeting charm.
“What’s he doing here?” Ford wondered aloud.
He didn’t expect Clancy to answer. “I met him at the hospital today. Told him to swing by on his way to the ferry.”
Curiosity and concern went to war, leaving his voice the strangled victim. “Why was he at the hospital?”
“Meeting of ER attendings. Same hospital system.”
Ford swallowed down the momentary misplaced panic.
Of course. It made sense he might visit the hospital out here.
But . . . Ford pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced again at his latest texts with Miles.
No mention of a meeting today at MVH. He couldn’t recall Miles mentioning it in any conversations they’d had over the past month either.
“He didn’t tell me he’d be out this way. ”
“Is it serious?” Clancy asked.
Ford shrugged. “We see each other whenever I’m in Boston and he’s not on shift.
” Before this very moment, he wouldn’t have called it serious.
Still wouldn’t. It had only been a month, and casual hadn’t been giving him hives.
But still, he would have expected Miles to let him know he was in his neck of the woods for a change.
“Well,” Clancy said as he shoved him toward the hearth. “You better get out there before Colby steals him away.”
“Hey!” Ford protested, a smidge offended.
“You’re a catch, but Col . . .” He mimed a chef’s kiss, then spun out of reach before Ford could swat his shoulder with a backhand. His tinkling laughter dissolved any offense and lightened the weight that had settled in Ford’s gut.
Maybe Miles meant to surprise him. Or maybe he hadn’t thought of Ford at all because, like Ford, he didn’t consider whatever they were doing to be serious.
On that wave of relief, Ford rounded the hearth and made his way across the dining room to the corner bar, sidling up on Miles’s other side. “Hey, you.”
Playful blue eyes swung in his direction, and Miles jutted the jammy tines of his fork at him. “You lied to me.”
“Me? You’re the one who didn’t mention being at MVH today.”
“Wasn’t sure I’d be done in time to swing by.” His blue eyes heated, gaze raking him up and down. “Didn’t want to get either of our hopes up in case things ran long, and I had to race for the ferry.”
From his other side, Colby cleared her throat. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said with a shit-eating I-told-you-so grin.
“Not so fast.” Miles swiveled back in her direction, scooping up another bite of tonight’s apricot and brandy sweet spot on the way.
“I took one bite of this decadent dessert and asked for the person who made it.” He licked the fork clean, making a truly evil groan in the back of his throat before he pointed the tines at Colby this time.
“I expected Ford to come strutting out of the kitchen, but it was you sashaying my way instead.” He swung his amused gaze back to Ford.
“At which point I realized she made all those sweets you brought me.”
“I never said I made them.”
He grinned. “You’re like one of my patients, tap dancing around the truth.”
“In all fairness,” Colby said, “it was my idea.”
“Well, in all fairness,” Miles said as he finished his last bite, “I feel like I owe you a date now too.”
“Hey, you’re dating me.” The words flew out of Ford’s mouth before he could catch them. He and Miles weren’t exclusive. Hell, not five minutes ago he’d told Clancy that he and Miles weren’t serious. Yet the thought of Miles on a date with Colby made Ford’s stomach sink like the fucking Titanic.
Had made him blurt out fucking nonsense.
“Can we date her too?”
Not the response he expected. And it threw him for a loop, the Titanic ramming a second iceberg, and Ford was no longer worried about catching his words. More like they’d been drowned completely, somewhere at the bottom of the sound out there with his stomach.
“You’re polyamorous?” Colby said with a bright smile. “Me too.”
“That’s perfect.” Miles rotated back to Ford, eager anticipation and a smirking challenge in his baby blues. “You talk about her all the time as it is.”
“Because she’s my best friend.”
He sat back, arms crossed, cutting a glance between them. “And doesn’t that just make for a great story.”
He and Colby spoke at the same time. “It’s not like that.”
Miles laughed, big and booming, and Ford was sure most of the restaurant was wondering what the hell was going on at the bar, watching the exchange between the three of them. Miles, though, only had eyes for them. “Go out with me, both of you.”
“I don’t—” Ford started.
“I’m off on Monday,” Miles interrupted. “The sign on the door downstairs says you’re closed on Mondays too.”
“We have the photoshoot on Monday.”
“Didn’t you say that was in the morning?” Busted, and judging by his widening smile, Miles knew it. “So neither of you have an excuse.”
For the first time since this conversation had gone completely off the rails, Colby glanced past Miles and really looked at him, her hazel gaze captivating, and for a split second, Ford forgot all about the grinning man between them.
Until Colby’s words shattered the illusion. “I’m game.”
Ford’s heart joined his stomach and his voice at the bottom of the sound. So when Miles pressed him on the impossible decision—“What do you say, Ford?”—all he could do was nod.