CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jackson
Cooking food is how I express myself. I'm a fucking chef, after all. I put the things I cannot say in words into the food I prepare. I always have.
But cooking for Bee and Finn that morning was something different. It was like I was trying to say something that I couldn't express through words or food. My little speech about perfection only unthreaded one strand of the tangled, jumbled knot of my thoughts.
By preparing something as simple as an omelette, one of the first things I learned in cooking school, it was like I was trying to say something simple too.
I just didn't know how to say it yet.
Words were never my strong suit.
"Come sit down," I called. I had set the table with what I found in Bee's cupboards, plated my omelettes just like I would if I were running my own bistro.
Old habits die hard, after all.
"Where did you find this stuff?" Bee asked, futzing with the vase I'd unearthed from the back of her drawer. "I didn't even know I had this."
"Sometimes it takes a different point of view," I said. "Show you how to see things differently."
And she smiled at me, like I had said something insanely profound instead of relatively stupid.
The two of them sat down to eat what I prepared. I kept my eyes focused firmly on Bee as she ate, because she ate with the same relish and gusto as she seemed to put into everything. I leaned forward a little, hoping like hell she'd get it. Whatever it was. Whatever it was I was trying to say with my cooking. I willed Bee to get it, because maybe then she could explain to me what I was feeling right now. This strange buzzing feeling at the base of my skull, as if everything had significance.
She grinned at me, unsure as to why I was staring at her so hard, but perfectly okay with me doing so. Pure enjoyment radiated from her face with each bite. She scraped her plate clean, licking the dredges off her fork in a way that made my pants tighten uncomfortably.
She'd devoured everything I'd given her. And more than that, she seemed to like everything I gave her, no matter what that was.
Nothing at all like the woman who'd said she loved me, and wanted to marry me, but never enjoyed anything that we did together. Bee was so different. And her little moans of pleasure, and the smack of her lips as she chewed had me hard for her all over again.
Maybe she did get it. Maybe she did understand what I was trying to tell her with my food.
And maybe I was starting to understand it as well.
When she finished her breakfast, she leaned back with a sigh. "We need to get back to work," she said with a tremor of resignation in her voice.
"You're right," Finn sighed.
"Do we have to?" I asked.
They both chuckled and looked away. I knew what we all were thinking. That if we left this house, somehow this would all blow up and become wrong instead of how it felt right now.
So, so right.
We drove back to the restaurant, dropping Bee off in front of her bakery before pulling around back to park.
"Is that Kyle's car there?" I asked, gesturing towards the black pickup truck.
Finn leaned forward. "That's weird," he remarked.
As if he'd been summoned, Kyle appeared on the loading dock, rushing as if he was out of breath. "Morning boss!" he called out to Finn. "I just checked in another shipment from Jasper Hill winery."
Finn looked startled. "Okay?" he said, sounding confused.
Kyle rushed off again and Finn shook his head. "Did he look a little crazed to you?" he asked.
I laughed. "I don't know man. I have no idea what's normal anymore."
Finn looked over at me sharply. "You good?" he asked.
I took a deep breath and let it out. Did it feel weird? Sure. But did it feel wrong?
No.
"I'm fine. Just..."
"I don't think of you that way," Finn interjected, as if he needed to clarify the point.
I shot him an evil grin. "Why not? I'm fucking catch."
Finn rolled his eyes. "God, you are such an asshole."
I grinned. "Well this asshole doesn't give a shit about how it happened," I said slowly. "I'm just happy it happened. It was worth it."
Finn nodded emphatically. "Totally."
I glanced at him. "Are we doing it again?"
Finn nodded again. His eyes were already off in the distance, and I could tell that his mind was racing ahead to our next time with Bee. "Yes," he said. "As soon as fucking possible."
I nodded back at him. "Good. Then we're good."
Finn glanced over at Bee's store, then seemed to mentally shake himself. "Okay," he barked. "Now let's get to work. We have a restaurant to open in less than two weeks."