Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

Something uneasy slithers through my stomach. Her quick actions are a reminder of my original thoughts about Murphy and this job. My fears about something going wrong.

I tried to keep things between us as clinical and work-appropriate as I could, but it’s time for me to accept that my feelings for her aren’t going away any time soon. And now that it feels like we’re moving in a direction that’s a little more serious than fooling around, it occurs to me that maybe there needs to be a conversation at some point. With Memphis or Jack.

Not right now, obviously. I couldn’t do something like that without talking to Murphy about it first.

But the realization that I feel so seriously about her that I’d want to make sure things are aboveboard with her father and brother alleviates something in my chest.

The idea of hooking up with Murphy always had a rule-breaking edge to it because that’s what it was. Hooking up. But now it doesn’t feel that way. Now it feels like I would be able to look her father or brother in the face without feeling like I’m doing something wrong.

And that knowledge puts a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

Chapter Seventeen

MURPHY

When I get to Wes’s cabin later that evening, I stand outside his door for a few minutes before knocking.

My nerves are shot. I’ve been distracted all day, trying to keep my mind off what tonight might bring. The two of us alone and tucked away in his cabin. Possibly finishing what we started in the kitchen several weeks ago.

Letting out a long breath to calm my nerves, I finally knock. I hear movement inside, a thump, and then footsteps.

When Wes answers, he gives me that smile—the one that’s charming as hell, that about knocked me off my feet the first time I saw it at the gas station—before inviting me inside. I’m instantly hit with the delicious aroma of something warm and rich.

“Hey,” he says, closing the door and then tugging me in for a kiss. One that’s somehow both chaste and sensual at the same time.

I grin at him once he pulls away. “Hi.”

He leans in and kisses me one more time, then turns and heads into the little kitchenette in the corner.

“I don’t have the same supplies here as I do in the restaurant kitchen.” He tugs something out of the tiny microwave oven on his countertop. “But all good chefs know how to use a microwave.”

I cross the room, grinning when I see the little mugs with brownies inside. Wes then pulls a small container of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and scoops some into each of the mugs.

“This is perfect,” I tell him. “Nothing sounds better right now than a warm brownie with some ice cream.”

He grins, hands me a mug, and then clinks his against mine.

“Bon appétit.”

We lean against the counters as we enjoy our treat, making small talk about how training went in the afternoon, when Wes went over everything the new servers and hosts need to know.

“I can’t believe we’re opening in two days.” I shake my head. “It feels so fast.”

“It always feels fast,” he tells me, finishing off his last bite and then putting his mug and spoon in the sink. “I’ve never opened a restaurant and felt ready on the first day. You just have to jump in and make it work, or it’ll never happen.”

I nod. “I guess that makes sense. How many restaurants have you opened?”

“Five.”

My eyebrows rise. “Wow. That’s a lot.”

“It is. And it’s always exhausting, but it’s also incredibly gratifying.”

“Really?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Just all the work that goes into it. You know, chefs are inherently people who find pleasure in feeding others. There’s a kind of satisfaction that comes along with preparing a meal and knowing that someone who was hungry has now been fed. Most chefs aren’t a part of a restaurant’s opening, so they don’t get to see all the nitty-gritty and hours of prep and planning that go into the months and years before that first service.”

Wes takes my mug once I’ve finished my last bite and places it next to his in the sink.