Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(58)

“Yeah.”

“So what was wrong with your car?”

“Uh, nothing. It started without any problem this morning.”

“Huh.” Silence. “That’s weird.”

It was probably my imagination—or maybe my guilty conscience—but I detected a note of suspicion. “Yes. But lucky. We made it back in time for work today.”

“How’s Ellie? She survive the trauma of being stuck in a motel with you for two days?”

“Barely.”

My mom laughed. “Well, I’m glad you two were together. It would have been terrible if she’d been alone. Tell her to get in touch with her mom, please. Mia is worried about her and says she hasn’t returned her calls.”

That was about the last thing I wanted to do, but I said okay. “I’ll tell her. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, now that you’re home safe. I know you’re all grown up, but I still worry about you.”

“I’m fine, Mom. But listen, I gotta go.”

“Okay, honey. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

In the kitchen, I found Felicity chopping celery and carrots. I forced a smile. “Hey, you. Stop being so good at this job. They’re going to fire me.”

She looked up and laughed. “Not a chance.” Setting down her knife, she wiped her hands and came toward me with one extended. “Hi. I’m Felicity MacAllister.”

I shook it. “Gianni Lupo. I can’t thank you enough for the help.”

“My pleasure.” She looked around. “You’ve got a beautiful kitchen here. And the whole trial by fire thing was probably good for me. Saved me from being nervous—I had no time.”

“From what I hear, your nerves are unnecessary. My dad is ready to make you a sous chef in his main restaurant—he wouldn’t even let me be a sous chef. I had to bus tables and make pizzas for three years. Then he let me move up to salads.”

Felicity laughed. She didn’t resemble her younger sister much—Winnie was blond and blue-eyed like a California girl, and Felicity had brown eyes and hair so dark it was nearly black. “He runs a tight ship, I can tell.”

“He yells a lot, you mean?”

She shrugged as she chuckled. “There may have been some yelling. But it was good—he was dealing with an unfamiliar team in an unfamiliar space, and I think we all needed someone to take charge.”

“Well, I really appreciate you being here.”

She gestured toward the vegetables she’d been chopping. “I know it’s not on your usual dinner menu, but I soaked some cannellini beans overnight for a smoky tomato and white bean soup just in case you needed something extra. I wasn’t sure what time you’d make it in.”

“It’s a good day for hot soup, and that sounds delicious. What’s the smoke from?”

“Harissa paste.”

I nodded. “Great. Please make it, and I’ll add it to the dinner menu tonight. If you’re okay here, I’ll just run home for a shower.”

“No problem. Is there any other prep work I can do for you?”

“Probably. Let me take a look at what I was planning for tonight’s menu and see what I’m dealing with. Was there a meat and fish delivery yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I rubbed my eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Fuck. I’m tired.”

“Why don’t you grab a nap while you’re home?” she suggested. “Honestly, if you just go over the menu and prep work with me before you leave, I’ll get it done.”

“That would be fucking amazing. I might need to crash for twenty minutes, if that’s okay. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

She smiled sympathetically. “I think you might need more than twenty minutes.”





Felicity was right—the minute I got to my apartment, I fell face first into my pillow and slept for two hours. I woke up in a panic and jumped into the shower, but I had to admit, I did feel a little better.

Except my stomach was still in knots over how I’d left things with Ellie. Every time I thought about the things she’d said—she couldn’t trust me, what we’d done was a mistake, she felt nothing for me—I felt sick.

Ellie was special to me. She wasn’t just a friend. She was part of my history, close to my family, a piece of home. She was someone I respected and admired. Someone I had fun with—okay, often at her expense, but she could give as good as she got. I loved that about her. Had I taken her for granted?

On the drive back to Abelard, I tried to think of something I could do to convince her I wasn’t the evil villain she thought I was. I tried to think about what my dad would do, about what he’d done in the past when my mom was really mad at him. But he always seemed to be able to soften her up with just a look. A hand on her back. If I tried to touch Ellie, she’d probably kick me in the balls.

Flowers? Candy? A hedgehog?

Spying a grocery store, I pulled into the lot and ran inside. Their bouquets weren’t terribly impressive, but they were better than nothing. In line, I also grabbed a bag of M&M’s from the candy rack.

I arrived back at Abelard around three and instead of heading for the kitchen, I went down to the tasting room and peeked in. She stood behind the long counter pouring small glasses of wine for about eight people seated at the bar. Her blouse was pink today, and it reminded me of the color in her cheeks on our walk in the woods. Then she laughed, and the sound made my chest hurt. But when she looked up and saw me standing there, her smile faded. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”