All I Ask of You E-Book

Iris Morland

• Herausgeber: IRIS MORLAND
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Heron's Landing
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 314

Beschreibung

A talented and ambitious chef, Jaime Martinez knows the value of hard work. Now the executive chef at his best friend’s vineyard in Heron’s Landing, Jaime only wants to make his mark on the culinary world.
Romance? Not in the cards for him. And definitely not with his best friend’s little sister, who’s recently grown into a beautiful young woman. A painter and an innocent, Grace Danvers is a temptation that would only end in disaster.
Yet when Grace confesses her feelings for Jaime one night, he’s suddenly torn between his attraction to her and his loyalty to her brother.
Soon that loyalty is tested when Jaime comes under scrutiny for a crime he didn’t commit, a crime that could jeopardize all of his hard work and his blossoming romance with Grace.
As things heat to a boiling point between the forbidden lovers, Jaime must now decide if he’s willing to sacrifice everything for the woman he loves.
This title was previously published as Tempt Me Tenderly. It’s been rereleased with a brand-new look and with lightly edited content.

Leseprobe

All I Ask of You

Heron’s Landing Book 2

Iris Morland

Blue Violet Press LLC

Contents

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt

Also by Iris Morland

About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All I Ask of You (Heron’s Landing Book 2)

Published by Blue Violet Press LLC

Seattle, Washington

Copyright © 2016, 2020 by Iris Morland

Cover design by Qamber Designs

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published 2020.

First edition published 2016 under the title Tempt Me Tenderly (Heron’s Landing Book 2). Second edition 2020.

Author’s Note

Dear Readers,

Before you begin Jaime and Grace’s story, please know that All I Ask of You was previously published under the title Tempt Me Tenderly. This second edition has been lightly edited and changed to better fit the overall feel of the rest of my catalogue.

All my best,

Iris

Chapter One

When Grace Danvers saw Jaime Martínez for the first time since he’d rejected her advances, she almost fell out of a window.

Before her near defenestration, Grace had been having a fairly good day. It was lovely and warm for November, as two days prior it had been in the thirties, while now it was edging into the upper sixties by mid-morning. Grace had forced herself to go to the vineyard, River’s Bend, that morning to drop off a cell phone charger for her brother Adam, who was the vineyard’s owner. River’s Bend had just hosted its first wedding and was currently working to expand into events after it was hit with three bad years of harvest.

That wedding had also been the place Grace had thrown caution to the wind and had told Jaime about her feelings for him.

She winced thinking about it, standing in the open waiting room at River’s Bend. After telling Kerry, the front desk woman and Adam’s assistant, that she was here, Grace waited for her brother to come see her, as she also needed to talk to him about attending family dinner that evening. She could go back to his office to see if he were in, but Adam’s fiancée Joy McGuire tended to lurk there, and Grace had no intention of barging in on them doing…things. Just recently engaged, the two of them had a tendency to exhibit more PDA than any sister wanted to see.

So Grace waited. She stared out one of the windows. The screens were currently gone, as Adam wanted to replace a number of them after summer had ended. She was glad of his timing, otherwise she’d be standing in a swarm of mosquitoes. Grace inhaled the fresh air, trying not to dwell on who else was here at River’s Bend right this second—like Jaime.

Jaime Martínez: River’s Bend executive chef and the most beautifully striking man in the history of the universe. Well, at least to Grace. When she’d been eighteen years old, newly arrived Jaime had let her share his umbrella when a summer storm had suddenly moved in, walking with her to her house. It was only after they’d arrived that she’d realized he’d gotten soaking wet while she’d stayed dry under his umbrella. But he’d just grinned and had said goodbye on her front porch, his dark hair plastered to his head as he had gone back out into the storm.

She’d loved him ever since.

For five years, she’d loved him from afar. Until the wedding, when she’d ruined all of it by asking him to kiss her. He’d told her that he wasn’t the man for her and had walked off. After that, Grace had avoided Jaime as best as she could.

“Grace.”

She froze. She was turned away from the source of the voice, and she wondered—rather wildly—if she could act like she hadn’t heard. But then she heard the person step toward her, and she knew the reckoning had come.

Turning, she looked at Jaime for the first time in a week, and her heart almost burst from her chest. He wore his usual jeans and t-shirt with an apron tied around his waist, although unlike his sous chefs, few stains marred the bright white. His hair had grown overlong, and the ends curled slightly. His eyes, dark and usually full of mischief, were now looking at her with an expression of discomfort that filled her with guilt.

“Your brother wanted me to tell you he was out giving a tour but will be here soon. Or you can give me whatever it is you brought for him.” Jaime sounded normal, except for when he’d said “your brother.” His voice had grated on the phrase, like it was painful to pronounce.

Grace stepped backward. She couldn’t speak; her throat closed. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Jaime stepped toward her, and she stepped back. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet.

She almost laughed. No, my heart’s broken and I’m an idiot, but what’s new? She wanted to tell him that seeing him made her want to crawl into a hole and die. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to go back in time and tell that Grace to keep her mouth shut.

She stepped back. Then back again. And then she realized too late that her heel had hit the wall, and she was pitching backward, falling through the open window into some shrubbery below.

But she didn’t fall into the shrubbery. Jaime moved with more speed than she thought possible, and then his arm was around her waist, keeping her from tumbling headlong out the window.

He hadn’t let her go yet—that was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was how warm his arm was around her waist. And the third thing was that he gazed at her with such naked longing that her skin prickled.

Her voice finally returned. She whispered, “I’ve wanted to tell you. I just, I’m…”

His gaze roved over her face. She could feel his fist clenching against her back. He opened his mouth to speak—

“Jaime,” Adam asked as he approached them, “why exactly are you holding my sister out a window?”

Grace squeaked. Jaime yanked her upward and then let go, so quickly that Grace felt dizzy. Had he almost kissed her? But now he wouldn’t even look at her, so was that just some kind of fluke?

Then she realized they hadn’t responded to Adam’s question. Her brother stood, his arms crossed, looking at them suspiciously.

“I almost fell out of the window,” Grace blurted. At Adam’s eyebrow raise, she explained, “I wasn’t paying attention and tripped. Jaime kept me from falling, that’s all.”

Jaime stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yep, I didn’t want her falling into some prickle bush.”

“Uh huh,” Adam said. He kept glancing back and forth between the pair, and Grace could feel a blush climbing up her cheeks. Did he know that she’d thrown herself at Jaime? Her blush grew brighter. She couldn’t look at Jaime. She was sure her guilt was written all over her face.

“Well, I’m going back to my office. Jaime, could you give me the next week’s menu whenever you get a chance?” Adam uncrossed his arms, but he still kept watching them.

“Sure, I’ll get it to you within the hour.”

If Grace didn’t know any better, she’d say that Jaime’s voice was forced. If she strained her own eyes, she could make out how stiff his shoulders were and how he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than in front of his boss and friend, Adam Danvers.

“Okay…I’ll see you two later. Be careful, Grace.”

As Adam left them alone, Grace let out a soft sigh of relief. She really, really, really didn’t want her older brother to know she’d confessed her feelings to his executive chef.

“I need to get to work.” Jaime didn’t even give her a chance to respond before stalking off to the kitchen. Grace watched him, his shoulders still stiff, his hands in his pockets, and all she could think about was how dark his eyes had gotten when she’d told him how she felt.

Guilt coiled in her gut, along with the desire and the emotions and the love that made Grace Danvers’s inner life more interesting than her outward life. Jaime obviously wasn’t happy about what had happened between them, and she’d instigated it.

Grace hated when people were upset with her; her family called her the queen of apologies, even when an apology wasn’t necessarily warranted. But she had a feeling she needed to apologize this time because she made things uncomfortable between them. Jaime wouldn’t be feeling so awkward if she’d kept silent.

She followed Jaime into the kitchen, where his sous chef, Eric O’Neill, worked alongside him. A few other younger chefs, including some interns, bustled about the kitchen, chopping carrots and cracking eggs and trying to avoid Jaime’s wrath if they dared to cut the carrots julienne instead of diced.

Jaime had created a reputation for himself as exacting and rather ruthless, but no one could say that he hadn’t also created a restaurant that happened to be a jewel in the middle of nowhere Missouri. When he’d first come on, the restaurant had been little more than a café. Now it was a four-star restaurant with reviews being published in international magazines and blogs, with government officials, celebrities, and other notable figures coming to sample the food.

“Eric!” Jaime picked up a plate of chicken with asparagus spears and polenta. “Did you look at this chicken? This is definitely not cooked through.”

Eric, a rather short, bland kind of man in his mid-twenties, made a mulish expression and continued chopping onions. “Yeah, I checked it. It’s done.”

Jaime just stared at him. Then he set the plate on top of Eric’s cutting board with a thump and snatched his knife. He cut into the chicken, revealing a pink center.

Grace winced.

“Does that look done to you? No? Then do it again, and do it right. You’re my sous chef, not some kid still in school. I expect you to do better.” Jaime waited for Eric to respond, but his sous chef just made another face and then nodded tightly.

Everyone else in the kitchen was staring, but when Jaime looked up, they all scurried to finish their tasks. Grace almost wanted to pick up a knife and begin chopping, just to avoid Jaime’s wrath.

She’d been around River’s Bend and Jaime long enough to know that although he was a perfectionist, he was also fair. He’d been patient with Eric in the beginning, but that patience was running thin with the constant mistakes and, she had a feeling, pure laziness. But Adam had told Jaime he couldn’t fire another sous chef, so he’d stuck it out.

Grace wasn’t sure if Eric would make it to the New Year.

Jaime still hadn’t noticed Grace, and she watched as he walked back into the pantry. No one else paid attention to her—she blended in fairly easily and was just known as the boss’s little sister—so she followed him into the back.

The pantry, brimming with cans and bags of ingredients, was organized and spotlessly clean. Grace had to admire how everything was stacked according to type of ingredient, with nothing in the wrong place. When Jaime had first come to River’s Bend, the previous executive chef hadn’t cared what the pantry had looked like, and more than once an infestation of cockroaches had resulted.

As Jaime looked for a can of something, Grace cleared her throat. He glanced up, his dark eyes widening.

“Grace.”

Her throat closed up, and her heart was pounding so fast she saw stars. It wasn’t helpful that Jaime was so handsome. That dark hair and those dark eyes and the way he picked up a knife and could chop anything within seconds and how he brushed sweat from his brow and how he rolled his r’s ever so slightly—not enough that most people noticed. But Grace noticed.

She noticed everything about him.

She cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” Her voice was rather high, like a squeaky mouse, and she blushed at the sound of it. “I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position.” When he didn’t reply, she added, rambling somewhat, “Like if I made you feel uncomfortable, or if I did something you didn’t want, because I’d hate to think I did that at all. I wasn’t necessarily thinking as clearly that night as I should’ve been, although that’s no excuse, I know that. I just…wanted you to know.”

Jaime stared at her, and Grace began fiddling with her braid. It was a compulsive gesture, and if she could pull the elastic out of her braid and redo it, she would, just to give herself something to do. Instead, she pulled on the ends until she knew she was making them more ragged as a result.

Jaime glanced upward, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “You don’t need to apologize,” he said gruffly. “You were honest, and that’s to be commended.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting, but at least he wasn’t mad, Grace thought.

“But I did want to tell you,” he continued, “that I meant what I said: nothing can happen between us.” His darkened gaze met hers, and he said in a voice that made her heart stop, “Us together… It would be a disaster. You know that, right?”

Grace almost laughed, because it would be easier than crying. The hilarious thing was that she’d come here to say the exact same thing: she’d been wrong to say anything, to put him in this position. But hearing Jaime say out loud that they’d be a disaster? It pierced her clean through. She’d thought, she’d hoped…but no. She should’ve known.

Don’t be naïve, Grace. Did you really think he’d change his mind?

Her mouth trembled. She tried to smile, but she had a feeling it came off as lopsided. The lip tremble always precipitated tears. Biting her cheek, she pulled herself together long enough to say, “Okay, then we’re on the same page. We’ll act like I didn’t say anything.” Her voice caught, and she had to stop talking.

Jaime looked at her, as if he knew she was struggling not to cry. He took a hand out of his pocket. But he didn’t reach for her. Instead, he shrugged and said, “I need to get back to work.”

Grace walked home, hands around herself, letting the tears fall freely and telling herself this was the last time she’d cry over Jaime. She felt stupid, childish, and hurt, and because her mind enjoyed being cruel, she relived how handsome he’d looked in the morning light until she felt bruised inside.

As she approached her parents’ house and her childhood home, she wiped her face with quick movements and hoped against hope she could get upstairs to her room before anyone noticed. At the very least, she could say it had been colder than she had anticipated and, in a hurry to get home, she’d gotten rather flushed.

The Danvers’ home was a two-story bungalow with a wrap-around porch that had been built in the 1930s. Although they’d since installed central heat and air, it still tended to get drafty in the winter and sticky in the summers. Grace’s mom Julia had had the shutters painted blue to go along with the taupe paint, and a few petunias still bloomed in pots out front due to the rather warm November weather. Grace heard a few birdcalls in the nearby trees as she stepped inside the house, the hardwood floor creaking underneath her feet.

She hoped her parents were out on the porch out back, but as luck would have it, her mom stepped into the kitchen and saw Grace the second she stepped inside.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Julia said, going into the bright kitchen to pour a glass of lemonade. “Did you give Adam the cell phone charger?”

Grace’s shoulders slumped, feeling the charger in her back pocket. “No, I forgot,” she said, wincing. “Sorry about that.”

“You went all the way out to the vineyard but still forgot? Did you tell him about dinner tonight?” At Grace’s headshake, Julia sighed. “What a space cadet you are. Sometimes I worry about you.” She placed the pitcher of lemonade back into the fridge. Dressed in a pale pink blouse with dark trousers, Grace’s mom looked like she’d stepped out of a J-Crew catalog, even though she didn’t work and stayed at home most days. But Julia Danvers never eschewed style, and Grace couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen her mom in something as sloppy as pants with an elastic waist.

Grace sat down at the dining room table. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Julia sat down across from her, sipping her lemonade.

“Everything okay?” Julia asked, her voice soft.

Grace was tempted to spill everything to her mom, but how could she admit that she’d told Jaime how she felt and now he wanted nothing to do with her? Talk about humiliating. So she got up, got a glass of lemonade, and said with a shrug, “I’m just tired. I think I’m going to take a nap before my shift tonight.”

Julia cupped her glass in her hands, saying nothing.

Grace was about to go upstairs when her mom said, “You’ll tell me, won’t you, if anything’s wrong?”

Grace wasn’t a good liar. So she didn’t look at her mom when she replied, “Of course I will.”

Upstairs, she gazed out her window, sipping the tart lemonade. She glanced at her art supplies in the corner, a blank canvas sitting on its easel. After attending the University of Missouri and graduating with a degree in studio art, Grace had returned home, unsure of how to proceed. She’d loved painting since she was a young girl and had even won a number of awards for her work. But after graduation, she’d found herself burnt out and unable to paint a thing. Not to mention, there were few jobs out there for painters.

Suddenly determined to do something, she set her glass on a side table and sat down on the wooden stool in front of her easel, setting up her paints and beginning to mix some colors. She tended to paint abstract paintings, with layers of color and emotions bleeding from the pictures like tears on a page. Swirling the yellow paint, she began lightly creating strokes across the canvas, not even sure what she wanted to paint. She just wanted to see if anything resulted.

Grace layered orange and red and then blue, a blur of colors manifesting on the canvas. It seemed startlingly bright in the dim room, and after a couple of hours had passed, she stood back to examine her work.

It looked…lifeless. Uninspired. It wasn’t even a painting of a particular figure or scene: just colors. Smeared, pointless colors. She hated it on sight. Tossing her brush onto a table, she flipped the canvas around so she wouldn’t have to look at it. She wondered if her parents would freak out if she started a fire in the fireplace to burn it.

Instead, she got ready for work and made sure to scrub the paint from her fingers until they ached.

Chapter Two

When Jaime found Eric outside smoking instead of prepping for tonight’s dinner, he had to restrain himself from kicking his sous chef in the shins and send him packing.

To be fair, he wasn’t in the best of moods. He hadn’t been the moment he’d seen Grace in River’s Bend’s front room, looking like some kind of angel out to haunt him—did angels haunt people?—with all of that long, blonde hair and light eyes. She had the creamiest complexion with freckles dotting her nose, and he was pretty sure even her eyelashes were tipped with blonde. Add to that a swan’s neck, a rosebud mouth, a sweet smile…

Jaime groaned. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lust after his boss’s younger sister who also happened to be seven years his junior. What kind of asshole did that make him? And now he’d definitely hurt her when he told her they’d be a disaster together.

Standing outside, he shaded his eyes, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t take his frustration out on Eric—even if the lazy asshole deserved it—and he couldn’t take it out on his staff, either. They didn’t know he’d effectively cockblocked himself and was dealing with the consequences. Maybe he just needed to get laid.

It had been six months, but who was there to date in tiny Heron’s Landing? The pickings were slim in terms of single, eligible women, and Jaime had already slept with two of them (which seemed excessive, given how small the population already was). He didn’t want to expand that list any further.

Thus, his current torment. He told himself he just wanted sex. He refused to think that he could just want Grace Danvers. She was like a younger sister to him: he’d known her since she was eighteen years old, for Christ’s sake. She’s been starry-eyed and hopeful for the future, just about to attend college and do all of the things you’re supposed to do when you’re in your early twenties.

Jaime envied Grace that, in a way. His parents had emigrated from El Salvador to Missouri with next to nothing except a job offer from Washington University in St. Louis for his dad, Fernando.

An archeologist specializing in Mayan culture, Fernando had worked at the university for close to three decades now, while Jaime’s mother Ana had owned her own jewelry store—now expanded to two more locations—for just as long. They were the embodiment of the American dream. Jaime had been born—a surprise to both of his parents—five years after their arrival in the States.

Jaime had worked his entire life: in his mother’s store and then culinary school. He didn’t regret his path, but sometimes he wondered what life would’ve been like if he could’ve just gone to school, figured things out, and maybe relaxed for once.

Relaxing is for rich people, he thought wryly.

Jaime saw that Eric was finishing off his cigarette, dropping it onto the ground without a backward glance. Jaime gritted his teeth.

He’d gone through three sous chefs this year, and Adam had forbidden him from firing Eric preemptively. At his interview, he’d seemed capable. But after Eric had realized he couldn’t coast, he’d become sullen and lazy, probably because he knew that even if he were fired, he’d just find another position without hurting for money. His parents were loaded—his dad was a senator, for Christ’s sake—and would pay his rent if he asked them.

Jaime had nothing against with people who made more money than him—that was life, and he was happy with his life as it was now. But guys like Eric who thought they were too good to work hard, who had had everything paid for and had never had to face consequences for bad decisions? Yeah, Jaime wasn’t a huge fan of people like Eric.

But Jaime wouldn’t dwell on that mess right now. He waited until Eric returned inside before following him. He got together the menus for next week and remembered that he still needed to talk to Adam.

Adam, who had seen him holding his sister out a window. He winced inwardly. Did he suspect that his executive chef had turned down his sister? If he did, there’d be hell to pay. Not because Adam wanted them together—no way in hell. But making her cry? That would be bad news. Adam had a tendency to see his sister as a little girl in need of his protection, and if he thought Jaime had done anything to hurt her, even unintentionally?

Well, to say Jaime’s balls would be ripped from his body would be an understatement.

It doesn’t matter, because it’s done. I did the right thing. I can’t feel guilty about that.

Jaime entered Adam’s office, the door unlocked, only to find his boss in an embrace with his fiancée Joy. Joy had bright purple hair that was currently up in some complicated hairstyle, chandelier earrings jingling as she laughed. Adam looked at her like she hung the moon in the sky and caused the earth to rotate on its axis, and if Jaime weren’t so uncomfortable watching them, he’d be jealous.

“Oh, Jaime, there you are.” Adam didn’t let go of Joy, but she turned to Jaime as well. “Do you have the menu ready?”

Jaime watched as Adam stroked Joy’s bare arm. He was happy for his friend—he really was. Adam had been so lost after the death of his wife Carolyn that when Joy had entered the picture, everyone had been thankful. Until Adam had screwed things up, but they’d managed to find their happy ending.

Jaime placed the menus on Adam’s desk. “Joy, it’s nice to see you. Any new stories brewing that will piss off your fiancé?”

Joy laughed. “I’ve been too busy to write, but there’s always something up here.” She tapped her temple. “It also helps that it’s so easy to rile Adam.” Patting his chest, she added, “Isn’t that right, honey?”

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Adam said.

She smiled. “Do you want me to answer that right now?”

“Behave yourself.” Turning back to Jaime, Adam asked, “How’s everything going? Is Eric improving?”

Jaime grimaced. “Can I be honest? I’d like to punt kick the kid into the river.”

“I think this is my sign to exit.” Joy leaned up to kiss Adam on the cheek. “See you later?”

“See you. Try not to do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Joy just waved a hand as she left.

Going around to his desk, Adam sat down, and Jaime sat down across from him. “What’s Eric done now?” Adam asked.

“Well, for one, he can’t cook worth a damn. Two, he’s lazy. Three, he’s a spoiled brat. I could go on, but I’d rather fire him and find someone worthwhile.”

“And fire the fourth sous chef we’ve hired this year? I hate to even say this, but do you ever wonder if it’s you that’s part of the issue?”

Jaime knew it was him—but that wasn’t the problem. He had exacting standards, while all of these boys sat on their asses and thought they didn’t have to work hard because mommy and daddy would always take care of them.

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said in measured tones, “I know I’m a hard ass. But they aren’t going to become great chefs otherwise.”

“I get that, and you do amazing work.” Adam rubbed his forehead. “We just have too much on our plate right now. Eric isn’t my favorite person either, but can you try to work with him? At least until after the New Year? We have four weddings and the farm to table event in April to focus on.”

Jaime didn’t want to spend one more second coddling Eric O’Neill, but Adam was still his boss. So he nodded tightly and muttered something about “doing his best.”

Adam looked at his monitor and opened up what was probably an email. Scanning what looked like a spreadsheet, Jaime watched as he frowned and made “hmmm” sounds at his computer for a few moments.

“Are you going to share why you’re grunting at your computer, or should I leave you two alone?” Jaime asked.

Adam looked up, as if he’d forgotten Jaime was there. “Oh, sorry. It’s just a financial spreadsheet sent over from the CPA. These numbers aren’t adding up…” He frowned again. “Sam must’ve put in some numbers wrong. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. What are your thoughts about getting chefs from around the state for this farm to table thing?”

Jaime was glad to talk of something else. He gave Adam a list of potential chefs in the state who could be invited, along with ideas for panels and food served. Ever since the harvest had been abysmal for the past three years, River’s Bend had since expanded into events, hosting its first wedding only a week ago. That same wedding where Jaime had rejected his boss’s sister even though if he were remotely honest with himself, he’d admit how much he’d wanted to reciprocate.

He shook off the memory. He could not let himself get distracted. He had work to do, a restaurant to run, a boss to keep happy, and a sous chef to avoid murdering. Getting entangled with Grace Danvers would be career suicide.

After talking with Adam, Jaime returned to the kitchen to finish prepping for tonight. This was a slower time of year for the restaurant, and he didn’t expect a huge crowd. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want the food to be perfect each time: it didn’t matter if a customer was a state senator or some local from Heron’s Landing. Every time they served food, it should be amazing.

Eric, though, seemed hell bent on doing the exact opposite. Jaime caught him texting in the pantry when he should’ve been prepping. Later, Eric overcooked the salmon, and Jaime almost tossed the plate in his sous chef’s face. A headache was threatening, and this was one instance when he wished he were the boss of River’s Bend and could fire anyone he wanted.

Technically speaking, he could fire Eric, but Adam had asked him to stick it out. So he would stick it out. Even if it drove him to drink, he would do it, at least until after the New Year. The last thing Jaime wanted to do was add to Adam’s plate when the vineyard still wasn’t out of the red completely.

As the night wore on, Jaime began muttering in Spanish, calling Eric all kinds of names he wouldn’t understand. Everyone knew when Jaime spoke Spanish in the kitchen was when he was pissed. The words flowed in a river of rolled r’s and slightly lisped c’s, the accent regional to El Salvador and how his parents spoke Spanish at home.

At any rate, by the time he got to go home, Jaime had decided a bottle of wine would be his best partner. Sometimes he hated Heron’s Landing—or rather, hated how small and insular it was—while other times it had been the place he’d felt most at home. It was a strange contrast, and one he’d yet to fully reconcile. He had friends here—Adam most of all—but oftentimes he still felt like the strange foreigner, even though he was just as American as his sous chef.

And of course, there was Grace. Grace! In his mind, Jaime had begun calling her Graciela, and sitting on his couch, he leaned his head back and sighed. Graciela, Graciela, what am I going to do with you?

When he’d first met her, he had to admit, he’d barely noticed her. She’d been shy, young, her long hair in her face, and she’d stuttered her name and subsequently hadn’t said another word when Jaime had come over for dinner at the Danvers’ home that first time. Back then, Carolyn had still been alive, and she and Adam had kept the conversation going, laughter and jokes filling the room.

Even the Danvers patriarch and the boss of River’s Bend at the time, Carl, had been in a good mood. Jaime had just been offered the job of executive chef at River’s Bend, and he had all kinds of ideas of how to bring the restaurant to a whole new level. Although Carl had been skeptical, Adam had been wholly supportive.

Grace, though, hadn’t said much during that dinner. She’d just watched, passing a bowl of food whenever asked. Jaime had sat next to her and had tried to engage her in conversation, but she’d been so shy that he’d eventually given up. He’d been twenty-five and too interested in himself to draw out an awkward eighteen-year-old who wore long skirts and bangles.

Something had shifted since then. After Grace had returned to Heron’s Landing after receiving her degree in studio art, she’d blossomed. Oh, she looked only a little bit older, and she still wore her hair in braids, but she wasn’t that shy girl of eighteen. She was a woman now, and Jaime—goddamn him—had noticed.

Jaime closed his eyes. He’d never, in his wildest dreams, would’ve thought Grace would approach him and confess her feelings. He’d known she liked him—he’d be an idiot not to notice, but he’d assumed she’d be too shy to say anything to him. When she’d come to him, wearing that dress, her mouth red and her creamy skin glowing in the lamplight? He’d been lost.

“Fucking hell, I’m a mess,” he muttered to himself. He took the bottle of wine and stuffed it back into the fridge. He wasn’t drunk, but he was buzzed enough that he was becoming sentimental. Since when did he sit at home and cry over a woman he couldn’t have? He must be losing his damn mind.

About to turn in for the night, he heard his phone ring. To his surprise, it was Adam. He never called this late. Suddenly worried, he picked up. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Sorry to be calling you this late,” Adam said. He didn’t sound upset, but he did sound stressed. “But you know that financial spreadsheet from earlier?”

Jaime had forgotten all about it. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I looked into it further, and there’s evidence that someone is stealing money from the vineyard.”

Jaime sat back down. Who would steal from River’s Bend? He couldn’t believe it. “How do you know? And do you know who it could possibly be? Jesus, Adam, this is the last thing we need.” His mind started whirling, trying to figure out what this would mean. They were already in the red enough: losing money like this could be a death sentence.

“It’s not absolutely conclusive. But there are traces, traces that Sam sent me. We’re going to call a detective tomorrow and launch an investigation.” Adam paused, and Jaime could just imagine his friend clenching his jaw.

“But do you know who?” Jaime ran through the people who worked there—Kerry, Adam’s assistant; Chris, the groundskeeper; Leah, the wine tasting coordinator. Would any of them do such a thing? He couldn’t imagine any of them would.

“That’s the thing.” Adam took a deep breath. “All of the evidence points to one person—and that person is you, Jaime.”

Chapter Three

As Grace grabbed her paint supplies and stalked out of the house, she wished her hands weren’t so full that she couldn’t slam the front door as well.

Why don’t you try to get a real job instead of wasting time down at Trudy’s?

What are you going to do with your life?

Her dad’s words echoed in her mind, making her stomp down the path that would lead to the river. It wasn’t that her dad was wrong, but Grace simply didn’t have an answer to his questions. She’d gone to school to paint, she’d earned her degree, she’d tried to find some kind of job that would allow her to continue painting…but she’d quickly realized she’d have to move back home if she didn’t want to starve. She’d applied for other kinds of work—office jobs, retail, even a dog walker—but no bites. Grace had a degree with no work experience, and the economy being what it still was, no one wanted to take a chance on a twenty-three-old when they could hire a forty-three-year-old with two decades of experience instead while paying that middle-aged worker half what they deserved.

The weather had finally turned chilly, like fall was supposed to be. The leaves had changed into bright reds, oranges, and yellows, and they crunched underneath Grace’s feet as she walked down to the river. It was a spot she’d come to often as a young child, mostly to get away from her annoying older brothers, and now she used it as a place to clear her mind.

She also hoped the gorgeous scenery would inspire her to paint. Even if she painted some hotel lobby landscape, something was better than nothing. She hadn’t completed a painting since before graduation.