Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Zander
I’ve been in my fair share of commercial kitchens since my music took off. Chef’s tables in every city, seven-course meals with small flowers put on with tweezers when I’d have killed for a burger and fries.
Romy says her family doesn’t know about us, and I believe her. But that doesn’t mean I’m not on edge. Because if they do find out, they’ll probably boot me off the ranch in a stampede. And I wouldn’t blame them.
Beau said her cousin Jensen wanted to go over the food with me. I’m not picky though, and I’m sure someone already passed along that I’m deathly allergic to shellfish.
When I walk into the back kitchen of The Getaway Lodge, the smell of garlic and butter hits me. It’s like stepping into heaven. Heads lift from workstations, and I get a few polite nods along with a few curious stares. It’s better than the outright gawking that sometimes happens.
I met Jensen during the cookout, but it was a brief encounter since he was running around in all different directions, making sure everything was the way he wanted.
He was dressed casually last night like the rest of us.
Today, he wears a chef coat that isn’t the typical black or white, but the kind of plaid you’d find on a flannel shirt.
It makes him look more like a cowboy. His shoulders are more relaxed than the other night, and he’s got a pen tucked behind one ear and a piece of paper in front of him.
His eyes lift, and he straightens. “Zander, thanks for coming.” He closes the distance with an outstretched hand. Romy’s family is so welcoming and kind. Something I don’t deserve.
I shake his hand. “The kitchen smells amazing.”
He folds his arms, glancing around as if he can’t believe it’s his. “Took a long time to build out. Now I just stand here asking myself, ‘What next?’”
I nod. “It’s like finishing an album. All that work, all those hours, and the minute it’s out, I’m sitting there wondering what to do next.”
He grins. “Except you make another one. I’m not sure I could do this again.”
“It’s just strumming strings,” I say with a smirk.
He chuckles and pats my shoulder. “Right. Easy peasy. Come on, let’s get your info down.” He leads me over to the counter, slips the pen out from behind his ear, and poises it over the paper. “So, favorites?”
“Anything but shellfish.”
Jensen gives me a look. “Beau mentioned that. How severe are we talking? Like… EpiPen or just some hives?”
“Stab me in the thigh allergic,” I deadpan.
“Got it.” He jots down no shellfish and circles it at least five times. “I’ll bold and highlight once I type this up for all my employees.”
I tap the counter. “Appreciate it. If I die, there’ll be a mob after you.”
He laughs and leans his hip against the counter. “Guess then I’d never be a Food Network star.”
“Career over. You’d be stuck here for life.”
We both laugh, then the kitchen door swings open. I glance over my shoulder and see Romy walk in. Her hair is in a high ponytail, and she’s dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt that hugs her waist. She has a clipboard clutched in one hand.
She freezes when our eyes lock. It’s only for a second, but I catch the flicker of something before she snaps back into remembering she hates me.
“Oh,” she says. “It’s you.”
I flash her my most charming smile. “Don’t sound so excited.”
She brushes past me without a second glance. “Jensen, when you’ve got a sec, I need to talk to you about Ben and Gillian’s wedding.”
“Sure, give me, like, ten,” he says.
“I’ll save you some time,” I say to him, still watching her. “I’m not picky. Nothing fancy and make sure the plates are big enough to fill me.”
“And no shellfish,” Romy adds.
My grin deepens. I tilt my head.
She catches herself and rolls her eyes. “I’d like the ranch not to trend for killing a country music star. Call me crazy.”
“Wow.” I press a hand over my heart. “Your concern warms me.”
“We’ve got the allergy noted,” Jensen says, pointing at his notes.
One of his employees politely interrupts us. Jensen excuses himself and heads off to another station, leaving Romy and me alone.
She glares at my smirk. “What?”
I shrug, leaning against the stainless-steel counter. “Nothing.”
“Stop looking at me like that.” She hugs the clipboard to her body and looks down at it.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re assuming I’m worried about you or something.”
“You have mentioned the allergy more than once.” I chuckle deep in my throat.
She doesn’t look up. “We don’t want to be sued if you drop dead.”
I narrow my eyes. “So, your concern for my well-being is just a legal precaution?”
“Pretty much,” she says, finally meeting my gaze.
We stand in silence for a beat.
This. This is exactly why I can’t be around this woman—because of what I can’t stop myself from revealing to her.
I lean in and whisper, “You looked really good in firelight, by the way.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “You’d look really good in the fire.”
I chuckle, but she’s already shifting back into business mode.
“Tell Jensen to text me when he’s ready,” she says, turning to go.
“Wait—”
She hesitates just enough to let me know she’s listening.
“I don’t want it to be like this between us.”
She lets out a quiet breath. Her shoulders drop, and I see the soft edges she’s been trying to hide take shape. The part of her that used to open up to me, that trusted me isn’t so far under the surface.
“What? You want to be friends?” she asks.
I shrug. “I guess so, yeah.”
What I want is more, but I can’t have it. Don’t deserve it. Wouldn’t know what to do with it even if I had it.
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I just don’t want to spend my time on the ranch dodging each other.”
Her smile is tight, and I hate that what I did was morph her from someone who was open and had all this love to share to someone who is guarded and untrusting. “Fine. Stop flirting, and we can be cordial.”
“Cordial?” I repeat, as if it’s a foreign word.
“What do you want, Zander?” Her voice rises a little. “You just—” She cuts herself off, swallows. “It doesn’t matter. You’re doing me a favor by being here, so if you want to be friends, we’ll be friends.”
I want to explain. I do. But what am I supposed to say? That I asked DeSoto to keep her away because I was scared? Because she made the ground shift out from under me? Because she made me question a lifetime of choices and everything I ever thought I wanted?
I was scared and couldn’t make sense of all the conflicting feelings inside me.
Wasn’t sure that she’d want me or my life for the long term.
Sure, I was exciting and mysterious, but when she got to know the guy underneath the stardom, she’d find out I wasn’t good enough for her.
She’d see the parts of me that aren’t made for stadium tours and song lyrics and realize I don’t have anything real to offer.
“Good, want to do lunch?” I force a smile.
She shakes her head. “I was thinking more like… wave from a distance kind of friends.”
Jensen walks back over and joins us. “Okay, what are your top five favorites?”
“I’ll be back,” Romy says, disappearing before either of us can say anything.
He looks at me. “Everything okay?”
I lie through my teeth. “Yeah. All good.” Then I rattle off my answers, “Burgers, chicken sandwiches…”
He jots it all down then asks about breakfast, snacks, and drinks.
My answers are quick and easy, but my head’s still at the door she walked through, wondering how the hell I’m going to make it through this while pretending all I want from Romy Owens is friendship.