Chapter 1
ELI
APRIL
It was weird as hell being back here in Jewel Lakes County. It was like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that not only didn’t fit, but made me feel like shit, too.
As the windshield wipers thudded against the edges of the rain-streaked glass, I cranked up the radio. It was Tom Petty’s Wildflowers.
I swore, switching over to another station. This one was playing Aneurysm, by Nirvana. Much better. Nothing romantic for me, not when I was heading to Stor-Rite Super Storage to go through the objects of my failed marriage.
I glanced over at the envelope sticking out of one of my cupholders.
I’d recognized the handwriting the moment I pulled the letter out of the stack at home.
But it had taken me weeks to finally open it.
I wished I’d burned it. The letter informed me that first, I was an asshole for blocking her email address. Then, that she was removing several items from the locker and tossing the rest. The locker was in her name, she said, even though it was my credit card paying the bill.
The Stor-Rite was a depressing cinderblock box, though the doors to the lockers were orange. I located the unit easily enough, and with shaking hands, opened the lock, hauling the door open.
Fuck.
Everything was in here. The furniture, boxes of books, records, and decor. Wardrobe boxes filled with clothes.
I was suddenly hit with a sense of overwhelm so heavy I dropped down into the loveseat Kelly and I used to watch movies on in the den and held my head in my hands.
I don’t know how long I sat there, listening to the rain splatter on the concrete outside.
Long enough that I was starting to get stiff.
And long enough to know I didn’t want to deal with any of this.
I was going to tell the Stor-Rite people I was abandoning everything Kelly didn’t take.
They could bill me, whatever. I just didn’t want to touch any of this shit again.
I didn’t want any kind of reminder that I’d even had a life here.
I wanted to scrub Kelly from my goddamned head.
Except just as I stood up, I heard the rumble of a car outside. Not the rough rumble of a truck, but the low purr of something more expensive.
What the hell is a car like that doing in a place like this?
The Bentley pulled to a stop right across from this unit. I stood just inside, out of the rain.
The guy driving was a snazzy-looking dude with silver hair and thick, black-rimmed glasses. He looked just as rich as his car, and slightly familiar, too, though I couldn’t place him.
When he got out, he grinned, opening his arms. “The famous Eli Dunham, in the flesh,” I noticed vaguely that he had a thick British accent.
“Do I know you?”
“Ouch,” the man said, laughing as if this was just the funniest thing in the world. “I’m Neil Brock.”
He said it like I was supposed to know who he was.
Then the guy—Neil—seemed to notice the rain coming down on his black blazer.
He was wearing that over a white v-neck shirt that went so low I swear I saw his sternum, plus jeans and cowboy boots.
Cowboy boots—where the hell did he think we were, Montana?
He laughed again, then went to the back of his car to pull out an umbrella.
That’s when I noticed he wasn’t alone.
My stomach dropped, practically splattering on the concrete floor of the locker. There was a woman in the front seat, with a soft swoop of jet-black hair, and a perfect, pointed nose. One I’d brushed my own nose against a hundred times.
She stood up, raising her own perfect red umbrella. “Hello, Eli.”
I swallowed. “Kelly. I thought you weren’t coming by until next week?” Her letter had given me two months’ notice for when she was going to close the locker, but of course I’d squandered all of it.
“No,” she said, as she and Neil strode closer to where I was standing, still under the cover of the storage unit. “This was the week I indicated in the letter.”
She said letter in a way that made me know she was still miffed about me blocking her email. I don’t know why; she knew I was all-or-nothing as well as Seamus did. And with Kelly, I wanted nothing.
She looked beautiful up close. Fancier than she ever did with me.
“Those eyebrows are new,” I said, I couldn’t help the bitterness in my tone.
“Jesus,” Kelly snapped.
“Ooh!” Neil grinned, his overly white teeth sparkling. “Kelly said you were a hot potato. You sure you’re not interested in food, Eli? You’d do great on one of our shows.”
Shows. Shit, that’s where I’d seen him before. Just today, on a billboard on the highway, while driving with Chelsea. Chelsea had even pointed it out, chewing her nails and explaining that was the show Seamus loved so much.
“So you guys are”—I danced my finger between them.
“Together?” Kelly said. “Yes.”
Apparently Kelly was into food shows, enough that she was fucking the host of one.
She saw my look and narrowed her eyes.
“What? Neil seems very nice.” He did, actually.
If there was no connection to Kelly at all, I’d probably think he was awesome.
Gregarious as shit, kind of like people said I was when I wasn’t being pummeled over the head by the fact that my ex-wife had done oh so much fucking better than me. “Sure leveled up from Kent.”
Kelly’s jaw dropped, but Neil thought that was hilarious. He leaned way back and gave a giant laugh. I couldn’t help the bit of pride at that.
“Well. How about you, Eli?” Kelly asked, her jaw tight. She, unlike her boyfriend, was not amused. “Are you seeing anyone?”
My stomach swam. Shit. Here’s where I had to say something to cover up for the fact that no, I hadn’t seen anyone in months, and when I had, it had been single-date affairs.
If you could call them dates.
I hadn’t seen anyone seriously since Reese Franco, who I’d met here in Jewel Lakes.
I ended things badly with her. She’d been amazing—smart, beautiful, funny, and she could sing like an angel, I’d learned later.
But I knew I’d gone headfirst into a new relationship way too fast. All or nothing. And I still hadn’t been over Kelly.
Then, in a very bad twist, Cass had ended up hiring her at the hotel.
Kelly’s eyes were twinkling. She knew I was trying to come up with something to say to cover up that shitty truth—that relationship-wise, everything had gone to hell after her.
I pictured Reese, then. If only I’d dealt with this fucking locker when we’d been dating and run into Kelly with Reese.
Kelly would have been plenty jealous of Reese’s…
everything. Her sexy, wavy, dirty blonde hair and sparkling eyes.
The way she laughed with her whole throat.
She’d been flirty and outgoing—it was why I’d been fooled into thinking it would be a good idea to date her.
Though she was a lot more subdued these days. Was that because of me?
“I guess that’s a no,” Kelly said, barely hiding a little smirk playing on her lips.
Anger flared in my chest. “No, that’s a yes.”
What the hell was I doing?
Kelly blinked. “Oh.”
“Yup. Her name is Reese, and she’s incredible. She runs L’Aubergine and has turned it around from ho-hum to the best fucking restaurant east of New York City.”
What the absolute motherfu—
“L’Aubergine?” Neil said, his interest clearly piqued. “Where’s that?”
“It’s the restaurant at Eli’s family’s resort in Vermont,” Kelly said, her voice tight. “He’s the CFO.”
My rapidly escalating heartbeat slowed for a moment as I registered what Kelly had said. I never told her what I was doing now.
She seemed to remember herself and pinched her lips shut. Then she narrowed her eyes once more. She was examining me like I was under suspicion for a crime.
She didn’t believe me about Reese.
Well, hell, it didn’t matter.
“Vermont, is it? Well, isn’t that just fascinating?
” Neil said. I could tell that wasn’t sarcastic.
His wheels were turning too. “Kelly, darling, we’ve been looking for a French restaurant for the show ever since Vis-à-vis went under, haven’t we?
” He leaned in my direction. “Big scandal. Owner was involved in some massive embezzlement scheme.”
Kelly had gone pale beside him. “Oh, I already lined up a few other places for us to meet next week, remember?”
He was talking about shooting some show at our restaurant.
My stomach dropped for the second time since I’d been standing here.
“Kelly’s our producer,” Neil explained. He beamed, pulling her against him in a tight squeeze. “A genius, this one.”
Even though she looked rattled, Kelly smiled. It was the first genuine expression I think I’d seen on her face since she got here. She really liked this guy. If they weren’t holding umbrellas, I feel like they might have even kissed.
I felt like throwing up.
It had been three years since we’d separated. Two since we divorced. That should have been enough time to get way the hell over an ex.
Kelly had, that was for damn sure.
“Who’s your chef?” Neil asked me, rubbing his chin with his free hand.
“Jacques Leclerc.”
Neil clamped his hand on his hip. “Oh-ho-ho!” he exclaimed. “The very one who was ejected from Brasserie Blue?!”
Jacques, our perpetually-frowning chef, had been the source of his own scandal back in New York, when he’d gotten into a screaming fight with his husband, who happened to be one of his restaurant’s co-owners, and stormed out during the dinner hour.
Several people had filmed it and he’d been turned into a meme at one point.
But his cooking skills were unparalleled.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s a cantankerous bastard.”
Even Kelly looked impressed now. I had no idea Jacques was so famous, but then again, I knew nothing about the food world.
“How perfect is this?” asked Neil, clapping his hand on his thigh. “Kelly, you can get our folks in New York to work out the details with Eli? This could be it, sweetheart.”
I practically gave my jaw a cramp grinding it so hard. “How many viewers does your show have?”
“Oh gosh, I dunno. Two point five?” Neil said, deferring to Kelly.
“Likely three during the finale week,” Kelly said, her voice still strained.
“That’s a lot of eyeballs on your restaurant, Eli. You’re not thinking of saying no, are you?”
He was right. That was a lot of eyeballs.
“Filming lasts six weeks, and we normally wrap up right ahead of the holidays,” Neil said. “Easy peasy.”
That was a good amount of time from now. Plenty of time to sort everything out. I’d be an idiot to pass it up. Plus, Kelly was staring at me, waiting for me to say no.
“I mean, I’ll have to clear it with Jacques.”
“And Reese?” Kelly asked.
My pulse picked up speed, sweat gathering on my palms. She was calling my bluff.
All the pain of the past decade came rushing at me like a tsunami. I couldn’t let Kelly see me fail. Not again. Not so spectacularly. Because only a fool would say no to an opportunity like this.
And she knew it.
“Reese’ll be cool.”
She would not be cool. Not with any of this.
“Wonderful!” Neil said, lifting his hand up for a high five. And like the idiot I was, I slapped my hand against his.
While Neil went to get Kelly’s purse, where she kept the cards for her assistant, apparently, Kelly shot me an icy glare and hissed, “I can’t believe you went along with this.”
“What?” I leaned against the doorframe like I wasn’t swallowing down the coffee trying to come back up again.
“Like your boyfriend says, it’ll be great for us.
” I stood up again. “Anyway, I don’t need anything else in there, so take whatever you want from our old happy-as-shit marriage, and I’m going to go to the office to pull my credit card from the account. Sound good?”
Kelly looked like she wanted to rip my head off, and honestly, I didn’t blame her. But I was just vindictive enough that I kept running with it.
After Neil and I exchanged numbers—and he wrapped me into a rib-splitting hug—we said our goodbyes.
It wasn’t until I was done with the Stor-Rite office and had driven around the corner that I pulled over, gripping the steering wheel like if I let go I might fall through the floor.
I leaned my forehead between my hands and groaned.
Then I gave myself a little slap, picked up my phone, and pulled up Reese’s number. Somehow, even with my all-or-nothing approach to goddamn everything, I hadn’t deleted her number after we split.
I held my thumb over the call button, hesitating.
How the hell was I going to convince her to pretend to be my girlfriend in—I ticked off the time in my head—seven months’ time?
Even someone who didn’t hate my guts would tell me where to go if I asked them to do that on national television.
Money, maybe? Sexual favors?
I hit call before I lost my nerve. I’d think of something. Or no, she’d think of something. I’d just ask her what it would take, and I’d give it to her.
Yes, this would work. It had to work.
“Hello?” Reese said when she picked up.
There was no hostility in her voice, which meant she’d deleted my number. Great.
“Hey Reese. It’s Eli.”
There was a long, drawn-out pause.
“What do you want, Eli?”
“What would you say if I said you were going to be on TV?”
“I’d say go home and lock the doors because I’m going to kill you.”
Great.
This was going to go just great.