One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(28)
Knox’s plans for the resort jarred her from her security like nothing else had since the day she’d left home as a sixteen-year-old. She simply could not fathom a life away from Briscoe Ranch. He’d been correct that she’d missed chances by not apprenticing for accomplished chefs. But the peace of mind that life at Briscoe Ranch had brought her had superseded her need for prestige.
“It’s so beautiful.” The hitch in her voice surprised her. What a surreal, emotionally charged night this had become for both of them.
“It will be even better when I’m done with it.” His words were loaded with ambition and confidence. In that moment, she believed him absolutely.
She pointed to the east side of the main resort building. “The restaurant I’m proposing would look out over the golf course and the lake.”
It felt weirdly inappropriate to discuss business while immersed in the hushed majesty of the lake and the night, with the grand view of the resort before them. Granny June definitely wouldn’t approve.
“I know. You want to put it on the southeast end of the main building, in the basement where housekeeping is right now. We would need to excavate around the basement to create the sunken patio you envision to create a subterranean feel. That’s right under my office, so it’d have that same world-class view.”
“You really did read my restaurant proposal thoroughly.”
“It’s been a little crazy these past couple days, but yeah, I did read it. I told you I was going to give you an honest chance, Emily. I’m a man of my word.”
She pulled her focus away from the resort to offer Knox a smile of gratitude but found him watching her with an earnestness that made her breath catch. As they held each other’s gaze, the oddest sensation washed over her, as though her spirit, her very cells, were shifting toward him, reaching out, yearning for connection.
A puff of breeze brought with it the fragrance of the night once more. Their little boat rocked ever so gently in the calm water. Somewhere near the shore came the lone call of a duck. How would this strange and wondrous night translate into a meal? What flavors could encapsulate the scents and sounds of the lake at night? What textures and tastes could capture the complexities of the way she felt alone with Knox under the moonlight?
Culinary inspiration hit like an electric current zipping along her veins and over her skin, and with such force that she nearly levitated off the bench. Ingredients for a bourbon-glazed jambonette of duck tumbled through her mind with haphazard purpose. “Oh! That’s it!”
“What’s wrong? Did a bug get you?”
“I have to write something down about tomorrow’s dinner. Give me a minute.”
The spike of adrenaline turned her blood hot. She peeled out of her chef’s jacket and draped it over the bench on which she sat. The white tank top she wore beneath it was damp with perspiration that turned downright cold in the night air. Goosebumps broke out on her arms as she took out her cell phone.
She felt his eyes on her as she typed away on the memo app of her phone, getting all her good ideas out of her mind before she forgot them. She barely noticed a splash of water hitting her arm, but she definitely noticed Knox’s shouted curse and the slap of a large, slimy tail against her leg.
A massive fish had landed in the boat and was flopping around at her feet.
With a shriek, she dropped her phone and scrambled to her feet. She and Knox lunged at the panicked, flopping fish at the same time. The rowboat rocked precariously. Emily had to let go of the fish and pinwheel her arms so she didn’t fall overboard, unlike the fish, who wriggled and flopped itself over the edge and into the water with a splash. It took Emily a moment to register Knox’s hand on her hip, steadying her.
“Holy shit, that was crazy,” Knox said through a laugh. “I think that was Phantom. I saw the same scar on its back.”
Emily sank to the bench. “You were right. He really is an attack fish. It’s too bad we couldn’t keep it in the boat. I would’ve changed tomorrow night’s dinner plans to fish.”
Knox chuckled again, shaking his head. He draped a friendly arm around Emily’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m just glad you didn’t fall overboard.”
Too late, Emily noticed herself leaning into his touch, craving the contact. She’d long ago suppressed the need for another’s touch, so much so that her unexpected appetite for it felt like an alien invader inside her trying to take over her mind and body. To yearn for the feel of her bare skin coming into contact with someone else’s, with another’s hands, with his mouth.
Just for a moment, just to satisfy the craving, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and nuzzled her face into his arm. She brought her hand up and splayed it over his chest. Goddamn, it felt good to be held. The only sounds she heard were the lapping of water against the boat, Knox’s labored breathing, and the pounding of her pulse, so loud she wondered if Knox could hear it, too.
Knox’s hand slipped from her shoulder to her waist. He held her close and released a stuttering breath that fanned over her neck. Chills wracked her body, and not only from the cold air on her damp skin. She allowed herself one last, long moment of touch. So inappropriate. So necessary. How have I lived without this for so long?
Stifling a groan, she pulled away and found her chef jacket on the floor of the boat. It was drenched with water and smudged with fish slime and dirt from their shoes.