At my request, Nancy and Sam exchanged a look. Sam cleared his throat. “I’ll ask Darius.”
“I can drive myself. My license is perfectly valid here,” I called after Sam.
I ignored Nancy’s offers of breakfast while we waited. A few minutes later Darius appeared, looking as big and buff as ever, but carrying car keys. “Where would you like to go, Miss Kelly? I’ll drive you.”
Big surprise. Darius was going to keep playing shadow.
“I want to go into St. Helena and do some shopping. And I might sit in one of the cafés and work. For the entire day.” Anywhere but here, obsessing about William. I reached for the keys.
“I’ll drive you, Miss Kelly.”
I raised a brow. “I know how to drive, and I don’t need a babysitter.”
He didn’t even blink. “Mr. Lambourne’s orders, ma’am.”
“Whatever.” I knew I was being a petulant brat, but I didn’t care. I grabbed my laptop, camera bags, and purse and joined Darius in the remaining big black SUV.
St. Helena was surprisingly quiet on a Tuesday morning. Darius parked outside one of the shops that lined the main street, and I climbed out, shouldering my bags. I looked in a few boutiques that showcased local artists and clothing designers and all the while, Darius stood guard outside the shop or lumbered behind me as I walked. What did he think was going to happen here?
I’d been so happy with William the night we’d gotten back together and I really thought everything was going to be perfect between us. And things had been going pretty well, but now we were right back to what broke us up in the first place. Except now I loved William—at least I thought I did. But I was starting to think maybe love wasn’t enough to forgive all the secrecy and the way he had closed himself off to me. I needed more. I deserved more. I knew that, but I still felt totally miserable at the thought of breaking up with William again. I didn’t want to. At all. But then there was the Anya Pierce situation to contend with, though even I had to admit that I was grasping at straws there.
Just then, my cell buzzed, and I paused in front of a boutique and pulled it out of my bag. A dozen steps behind me, Darius paused too. I guess the cell service wasn’t so great because it had gone straight to voicemail. As soon as I heard my dad’s voice, my stomach tightened into knots.
“Hey! How’s my favorite girl? Just checking in. Call me, Cat.”
I pocketed the phone and took a deep breath. Darius was watching me, so I made a point of wandering a bit more, feeling a weird sense of nostalgia and unease. It was strange to be back in Northern California again. It felt so familiar, but with Darius never far from sight, I felt like I was hiding out in the witness protection program or something. My parents had no idea I was here. I wondered what my dad would make of William and all of his bullshit. He would definitely be hurt to know I was in Napa and hadn’t come to see him. There was a thought. Maybe I should steal the keys to the SUV from Darius or find a rental car agency and drive to Santa Cruz and play it off like an impromptu visit. I could say I was homesick or something.
I was caught up in my fantasy escape planning when my phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Beckett.
Sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. Super busy. Trying out new recipes. You?
I stopped walking again and Darius stopped too, so I could answer.
Sulking. William is AWOL. Again.
Tough hanging out at the mansion by yourself.
I knew I didn’t make a very pity-worthy subject, but I didn’t care about mansions and vineyards. I just wanted William.
More like a gilded cage and I ditched it. Now I’m shopping, I answered.
Boo hoo you, but that sucks. Maybe you should just come home.
Maybe I should.
Hutch Morrison is waiting.
I’d totally forgotten about that voicemail. So who is he? Big shot chef?
Biggest of the big. He’s so hot right now. Seriously hot. And Morrison Hotel is the most sought after ticket in town. Literally. You have to buy a ticket to get in.
A ticket?
Check it out.
A moment later a link came through. I clicked on it, and it took me to the Morrison Hotel restaurant website. It looked like a high-concept restaurant with really elevated cuisine. From what I gathered, the entire menu and concept changed on the chef’s whim, and Hutch Morrison’s whims leaned toward rock albums. It was global news when he announced his next theme: Sticky Fingers was coming next. Interesting…
A few moments later, another text came through. Here’s the man himself.
An image of a tattooed guy appeared on my phone. A seriously hot tattooed guy.
This is Hutch?
Oh, yeah. He’s a Southern boy, lots of charm but with a hard rock-and-roll edge. He used to be in a band, so the rocker thing is legit. Ticket to the restaurant is worth it just to ogle him.