Luscious(3)

She had no future. Her chance to go to college was blown. She was almost twenty-six and she’d spent much of the last five years nursing her mother and working dead-end jobs to try to help pay the never-ending medical bills. It was the very lack of opportunity in their tiny town that had sent Ronnie into the Army. He’d sent back every bit of pay he could spare. Not that it had mattered. It was all over now and she’d thought she’d feel some semblance of relief. Instead, she was left with this aching hole that nothing could fill.

Maybe if she found the truth, her mother could rest easier.

“Sarah?” the reverend said. “Sarah, you’re too emotional to make a decision like this. Come back to the parish house. You can stay with us for a while. Come back and sit in the nursery and hold some of the babies. It will make you feel better. In a few months, you’ll be in a better place to make a decision about your life.”

She’d already made her decision. The money had run out so now it was up to her to do her own investigating.

She was going to find Macon Miles and when she did, she would find out how her brother had died. And if he had anything to do with it…well, she would take care of that, too.





CHAPTER ONE





Dallas, TX

Two months later



Macon watched the new girl. He couldn’t help himself. She was luscious. Like a chocolate soufflé. She would require very careful handling in order to bring her to fruition. One wrong move and a woman like that would fold, wilting or falling away, or simply telling him to fuck off.

He really didn’t want her to tell him to fuck off.

Ally. Allyson Jones. She had dark hair and a curvy figure that filled out her black slacks and white dress shirt in a way no one else on the waitstaff managed. She bent over, collecting the menus. That was the singular juiciest backside he’d ever seen. It was fucking spectacular, and he could feel his cock hardening.

It was not helpful to his current work situation, but he still couldn’t force his eyes to move. It was like they were laser focused on that lush ass.

He moved the pastry blender over and over, forcing the ingredients to mix into something new. Butter, flour, sugar, shortening, salt, and ice water. His perfect piecrust. Simple and yet so complex since he’d learned it required something beyond merely following the recipe. There was a harmony required most people never figured out, a certain Zen that came with giving over to the dish, allowing it to be what it would.

“Don’t let that sit too long.” Timothy Gage looked down his patrician nose at the bowl. “We have reservations for a hundred tonight. If that crust isn’t perfect, I’ll see you go back to washing dishes.”

Macon took a deep breath and forced himself not to correct his obnoxiously pretentious boss. He’d never washed dishes. When he’d been hired at Top, he’d been brought in as a garde-manger, prepping salads and helping with small plates. That had lasted two weeks. Then one day the chef’s brother had walked in. Ian Taggart was a massive slab of muscle with a taste for lemons. Timothy didn’t do requests. He was an artiste, or at least that’s what he called himself. He was mostly an asshole who took himself way too seriously. Sean Taggart, the man who owned Top, had tried to talk his brother into being reasonable. Macon had quickly made a lemon pudding.

He’d moved from salads to assistant pastry chef that day, and he was also Big Tag’s hookup. The big guy’s wife had been pregnant at the time and mad about coconut. He’d made coconut cookies, cream pies, and cakes for the lovely Charlotte.

It was good to be needed. It was good to make something that made someone else happy.

“That is one hot piece of ass.” Timothy leaned against the wall, his eyes on Ally.

There were times he really didn’t like the man. All the time, really. He was full of himself, but he was also trained by some super-fancy school in Paris. Sean had introduced him as a big deal and explained that Macon could learn a lot from him. So far he’d really learned that Timothy liked to duck work and take all the credit, and he drank on the job.

Ally looked up and her dark eyes caught on his. He hoped he wasn’t staring like a crazy stalker guy, but it was hard to look away. She smiled and joked and he could still feel the aura of loss that surrounded her. He wanted to know what made her seem so sad at times, like there was a wall between her and the world. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need that wall. It was a stupid idea. He couldn’t take care of himself much less anyone else, so he’d kept his distance.

Still, since the moment she’d walked through the doors, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

She gathered the menus close to her chest as she started for the door. She stopped in front of the pastry station. The barest hint of a smile crossed her full lips. “What’s on for tonight?”

Tim stepped up. “Citrus tarts and a mango sorbet. But if you like I could whip up something chocolate for you. I know the staff tends to have a limited palate. I’ll fix that right up for you, sweetheart.”

Ally frowned and looked back at Macon. “Well, it looks good anyway. See you later.”

Macon nodded her way and then turned to Timothy. “Is there a reason you insulted her?”

Timothy waved him off. “Like she knows what a palate is. Had I really known who I would be working with here, I would have stayed in Europe.” He took a sip of coffee that Macon knew was drowned in whiskey. “The whole place is full of washed-up idiots. Taggart has too soft a heart to really make it in this business. He’s a brilliant chef. He simply doesn’t have a proper staff around him. It’s one thing to use his Army buddies to wash dishes. It’s another to pretend they can actually cook.”

Yes, this was what he got to listen to. It was so much better when Timothy worked on what he considered proper desserts and he left Macon alone to prepare the secondary. Unfortunately for tonight, the mango sorbet was already done, so he got to listen to Timothy’s rants.

He sucked it down. He wasn’t about to fuck up this job. He owed Adam too much. Adam had introduced him to Sean. Adam had gotten him this job. He couldn’t lose his temper.

He went back to his crust.

Timothy drained his mug and slapped Macon on the shoulder. “You finish that up. I’m going to go deal with a problem I’m having.”

He stepped out and Macon could breathe again. He let the sounds of the kitchen wash over him. He loved it here. With the singular exception of Timothy, he got along with everyone. Sean Taggart liked to hire vets. Chef Taggart was a former Green Beret and his kitchen staff came from all the arms of service. The sous-chef was a former SEAL, the saucier a former Air Force pilot. The line chefs were all Marines. Even the sommelier had spent time in the Coast Guard. Only Timothy and a few of the servers were civilians.

He fit in here. He wasn’t the only scarred fuck-up.

His life had taken on a pleasing rhythm. Wake up, exercise with his brother and Jake, lunch with his sister-in-law, who asked an insane amount of questions, work, and sleep. He had PT three days a week and saw the shrink twice. He was getting comfortable telling Kai Ferguson things he’d never told another person.

The only problem was Kai thought he was holding back and he was. There was one thing he couldn’t tell anyone. Not ever. He would take it to his grave.

He shoved the thoughts aside and concentrated on the individual crusts.

“You coming out with us tonight?” Eric Vail’s white apron was still pristine at this point in prep. The sous-chef was a lean man of roughly forty, with a jagged scar running from above his right eye to his jawline. He also was the best freaking chef short of the big boss. Eric’s sea bass rocked Macon’s world.

Macon had decided that men who’d been forced to live on MREs for most of their life took food seriously.

“I’m going to close tonight.” He liked closing on Sundays. Yes, it took longer because they weren’t open on Mondays, so he ended up helping Sean with the accounting. He liked it because he was learning how to run a business. Once he’d offered to help with the books, Sean had been thrilled to teach him. He helped with accounting and payroll. Sean’s wife, Grace, had spent hours teaching him how to use the accounting software. He loved baking, but he also loved the sense that he had a hand in the working of the business.

Eric shook his head. “You are crazy, my brother. I’ll drink some tequila for you. Or maybe not since I saw that you’re closing with the lovely Ally. It has not escaped my notice that you watch her.”

“I’m not stalking her or anything.” Not really. He just liked the way she moved when she didn’t think anyone was watching. After close, they would turn on some music and she’d move to it, her feet finding a rhythm as she mouthed the words to the songs she knew.

Eric’s emerald green eyes rolled. “I didn’t say that. I said you obviously have a thing for her. I think you should ask her out.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. “I’m not in a place to take care of a girlfriend.”

Eric frowned and leaned in. “If you give a crap about that girl, maybe you should rethink your position.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve been talking to Deena.” Eric was cozy with the hostess. She was a pretty blonde who didn’t seem to give a shit that Eric was scarred. She beamed when he walked in the room. “No one knows where Ally lives. A couple of the guys have asked and she puts them off with that smile of hers.”