Chapter Six
Gemma had just wrapped a towel around her wet hair when her phone rang. Her mom's number appeared on the screen, surprising Gemma.
Mom rarely called without scheduling it first, as if she didn't have a second to waste waiting for Gemma to answer.
"How is your aunt?" Mom asked without preamble. No time for niceties.
"She's doing better. She still needs a walker to get around, but she's getting stronger. Physical therapy is doing her a lot of good."
Mom's tone was all brisk business. "She's going to have to face facts and realize that it's time for her to seek out other living arrangements."
"You mean like a nursing home?"
"That is why those places exist." She said this as though Gemma were a slow child.
She gritted her teeth. "Why not bring her to come live with you? Heaven knows your house is big enough."
Mom laughed like Gemma had just made a joke. "As if I could take time away from work for something so…domestic. I have projects, deadlines. My job is important." She sighed. "I suppose you could come take care of her here. We'll get you enrolled in a decent school while you're here. Find you a career…"
"I have a career, Mom. I don't need to go back to school."
"You have a job. You cook. That is not a career, darling."
Gemma clutched the phone tighter, willing it to break so she wouldn't have to have this conversation with her mother. Again.
"I like what I do."
"You're a cook in a hot, greasy kitchen. How on earth could you like it?"
"I get to create new recipes and arrange food in artistic displays no one has ever seen before. I'm constantly working seasonal items into our menu. Every day is a new challenge, every plate a new canvas."
Mom scoffed. "Really, Gemma. Don't be dramatic. You're far too bright to be wasting your mind on such menial labor. Serving people food, of all things. Leave that to the C students and drug addicts of the world."
She shoved those two groups together, as if all C students were drug addicts and vice versa.
Leave it to Mom to find the most insulting, demeaning way to make a point.
"We've talked about this before," Gemma said, slumping onto the pretty Amish quilt covering the bed. Aunt Beth had recently redecorated the room, and it was a lovely mix of bright colors and pristine white linens.
"Too many times," Mom agreed. "It's time you make a change. Go back to school. Find a real career you can be proud of."
And that was the root of the problem. Gemma was proud, but Mom wasn't.
Gemma sighed. "Is there a reason you called? Other than to berate me, I mean."
"Yes. Of course. Your father is getting another award. I was hoping you'd attend the ceremony."
"When is it?"
"Next week."
"Sorry, but Aunt Beth won't be able to travel yet. She can't miss physical therapy right now."
"Then don't bring her," Mom said, as if it solved the problem.
"That kind of negates my purpose here, don't you think? I mean, I took a leave of absence from work just so that I could come and take care of her."
"And you can't slip away for a few days to see the proof of your father's success?"
"I got an award, too. Neither one of you bothered to come visit me."
"That was a food industry award. It hardly counts. I'm sure they give out hundreds of them."
"Actually, no. Our restaurant was the only one that got the award, and it was because of my menu that we won. It was a big deal."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. You make it sound like you cured cancer." Irritation rattled through Mom's tone. "Fine. If you don't want to come see us, don't. We'll have a house full of friends in for the event, anyway. You'd just be taking up one of the guest rooms. And if you change your mind about going back to school, let me know. You're not getting any younger. It's about time you figure out what you want to be when you grow up."
Mom ended the call, leaving Gemma furious and deflated.
No matter what she did in her profession, Gemma was never going to please her parents. She only wished their disappointment in her didn't sting so badly.
***
Saxon could not get Gemma off his mind. He had only an hour to kill before he saw her again, but it seemed like a year.
After a quick shower, he busied himself by reading the mail and washing the thermos of coffee he'd taken to work that morning. He flipped through a few channels on the TV, but none of the bright lights and colors could hold a candle to the vivid image of Gemma blazing in his mind.
She was so damn pretty. So cute with her hair a mess and the efforts of her day clinging to her skin in grimy spots. Even though she had to be sore and stiff from work she was clearly not used to doing, she hadn't complained or wined.
He liked it that she knew how to work, even if she wasn't suited for the job.
First thing tomorrow, he'd drive over to the Rise and Shine and take stock of what needed to be done. The job couldn't be that big—just a few days and he'd knock it out.
The idea of lingering so that he'd have an excuse to talk to her popped in his head, but he immediately dismissed it. She was on a tight timeline if she was going to get the bakery opened before crowds started rolling in for the summer. He couldn't do anything to sabotage her efforts.
But maybe if he got his work done quickly, she'd let him help in other ways. He couldn't bake worth a damn, but he could lift fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar all day long—whatever it took to get a little more time with her.
As he realized where his train of thought was headed, he stilled.
When was the last time he'd gone to so much effort to be near a woman? He couldn't remember. High school, maybe?
Before he could question his unusual actions further, his phone rang. Mason's stern face popped up on the screen.
"Hey, brother. What's up?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm damn well going to find out. Feel like a little road trip tonight?"
He almost said that he couldn't, but something about Mason's urgent tone bothered him. "Where?"
"Kansas City. I've got an address attached to some payments that I didn't approve. It's a building supply company downtown. I'm going to check it out."
"Why not just call them?"
"I tried. The phone number listed is disconnected."
"It's already six. I'm sure they're closed for the day."
"Maybe," was all Mason said, but the way he said it made Saxon sit upright, alert.
"There's something else you're not telling me. What is it?"
Mason was quiet for a minute before he let out a sigh. "I did something I'm not proud of."
"What?"
Mason hesitated, but finally spit it out. "I put a GPS tracking app on Diana's phone. She's supposed to be in KC with her friend, but she's at that address—the one where the payments are going."
Pieces clicked into place in Saxon's head. "You're worried what you might do if you find out she's behind the missing money."
"I need you there to keep me from doing anything I'll regret."
All of Saxon's excitement over his dinner with Gemma fizzled and went flat. But what choice did he have? He couldn't leave his brother hanging. "I'm ready now. Swing by and pick me up."
Mason let out a long, relieved breath. "Thanks, man. I owe you."
"No, you don't. There are no debts between brothers."
"Be there in fifteen." Mason hung up.
Saxon grabbed a flannel shirt to ward off the oncoming chill of nightfall and jogged across the street to Aunt Beth's house. He knocked once, and Gemma opened the door, donned in a cute fluffy apron over a pretty yellow sundress.
His heart gave a slow, hard squeeze, emitting a feeling he couldn't name.
He brushed it off as lust.
She was clean and pink from a shower, her wet hair pulled back away from her face and knotted at the nape of her neck. She wore no makeup except for a sheen of pink gloss on her lips.
Utterly kissable.
As her gaze met his, her dark eyes brightened with an excitement that had mirrored his own a few minutes ago. "You're early, but that's okay. Everything is almost done."
He could smell something savory and glorious, but was too ignorant of the culinary arts to even guess what it might be.
"I didn't have much time, so I just made some burgers and fries. I hope that's okay."
He nearly groaned in need, but his stomach beat him to it.
Her smile widened and she let out a musical laugh. "Sounds like you're ready to eat."
She turned away to lead him to the dining room, but he grabbed her hand before she could get away. "Wait. Something's come up and I can't stay."
Her smile vanished, and with it all the bright twinkles of excitement in her eyes. "Oh. Okay. No problem. Thanks for letting me know."
"I really want to stay, Gemma. I do. But my brother needs some help tonight, and—"
She held up her hand to stop him. "No explanations necessary. I understand."
She didn't. Saxon could see in her expression that she was hurt or pissed or both. "If I ask for a raincheck, will you slug me?"
"Not at all." Her words were perfectly polite, but with no warmth. "In fact, why don't you take some food with you. There's way too much for me and Aunt Beth to eat."
Before he could speak, she pulled her hand out of his and hurried to the kitchen. Her movements were smooth and fast as she assembled two burgers and wrapped them in foil. "One for your bother, too," she said. "I hope you're not picky eaters."
"Not at all."
"Good. I made burgers with garlic aioli, arugula, caramelized shallots and baby portabella mushrooms. Parmesan garlic fries with a side of curried ketchup. I have a cherry pie in the oven, but it's not done yet. Sorry."
By the time she was done speaking, she had tucked everything into a grocery sack, which she held out at arm's length.
"I hope you enjoy it." Her statement was a clear dismissal. Polite, but firm.
Saxon stepped closer and wrapped his fingers over hers, capturing them in a gentle cage. "I've hurt your feelings."
Her gaze darted down to where his skin touched hers. Her voice trembled slightly. "Don't be silly."
He wanted to tell her about the missing money and his brother's worry that he might do something rash, but it wasn't his business to tell. For all he knew, she'd tell Aunt Beth, who would tell someone else, and the news would be all over town by morning. Saxon wouldn't do that to his brother. The man deserved his privacy—such as could be found in such a small town.
"I'll make this up to you, Gemma. I promise."
Outside, he heard two brief taps on a car horn.
Mason was here. It was time to go.
"That's my brother. I have to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure."
The need to lean in and kiss her cheek raced through him, but he ignored it. There wasn't time to kiss her like he wanted, and he worried that if he started, he might not be able to stop. Even worse, he worried that if he tasted her, the memory of that sweetness would throw his concentration, and he really needed to be on his game tonight—just in case things went bad in the city.
Mom would never forgive either of them if she had to come bail them out of jail.
So, rather than kiss Gemma like he was dying to do, he gave her hand a little squeeze before he let her go.