Page 56 of Riding the Curve

“Try to have a good dinner. Enjoy yourself tonight. Remember, apart from your family, this is the first time you’ve cooked in a professional sense. I’m proud of you for not letting what happened in New York break you.”

Suddenly flooded with emotion, I rushed over and squeezed her against me. “Thank you, friend. I needed that more than you know.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I pull back, assessing her once more. Her eyes flit downward for a split second before returning to mine.

“I’m good, promise.”

I want to believe her, but I’ve known her for far too long to know that something is up. Music begins playing inside my back pocket. My alarm blares loudly as I free it and shut it off.

“I’ve got to go, but we are going to come back to this later, okay?”

She nods, and I hurry back to the truck to get back to the ranch to start cooking and setting things up.

CHAPTER 22

Henley

Garlic and rosemary fill my senses as I sear the thick-cut ribeye steaks in the pan of the outdoor stove. Lifting the pan at an angle, I baste the meat in the buttery concoction. Their sear is nice and golden brown, so I transport them to the BBQ I’ve prepped to the right temperature. Closing the lid, I wipe my hands on a towel and gaze over the spread I’ve created.

I’ve made a few different varieties of appetizers, cold and hot. Things that could be easily prepped to serve when guests arrive at the ranch, or as mini snacks in between events the guests book for the day.

Cowboy caviar, Korean-spiced mango wings, and an heirloom tomato-mozzarella salad are just a few I have out on display. I also made several different sandwiches and a couple of pasta salads for them to get an idea of what lunches could be like. I made sure each of them could be transported easily in case guests wanted to go for a ride and have a picnic lunch.

The steaks are my only dinner plate. By the time we work our way through the appetizers and sandwich tastings, I figure one dinner will be enough. Preston brought out Autumn’s floral plates for tonight. So I plate the truffle mashed potatoes and prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, waiting for the right moment to take the steaks off the grill.

My heart begins to race as I light the lanterns I’d found in the barn. Nerves have my hand shaking so badly that I keep having to click the lighter multiple times to get it to light.

“Here, let me help.”

A deep voice rumbles from behind me and a warm hand covers my own. The clean, citrus scent of him fills my lungs. There’s also a hint of something a little spicier, unlike his usual cool of mint. Cinnamon.

Emerson guides my hand over the candle, sliding his finger down to help me click the lighter. The flame flickers to life, as well as my dangerous desire for this man. I slip the lighter into my apron, as he gently spins me around by my waist. I drink him in, but it’s not enough to quench the thirst.

This is the first time I’ve seen him so cleaned up and polished. Well, in real life, that is. I may be guilty of snooping a few times on the internet, though I stopped in the recent years when most were photos of him walking out of clubs and bars with different women on his arms. But all that fades away when he clears a rogue hair from my face. Electricity zips all the way to my core as his skin brushes against my temple.

The smooth, black button-down shirt fits him like a glove. Sinfully dark Wranglers that always render me speechless cover his lower half. And as he steps back, I can see he’s wearing cowboy boots. The fact that this man can pull off ‘cowboy’ just as well as he does everything else has my thighs clenching.

While I try to gather my thoughts, Em begins to casually roll up his sleeves, displaying his corded muscles. The air vacates my body in one whoosh. Em’s bottom lip sinks between his teeth as he becomes aware of my not-so-discreet perusal. “Need an extra set of hands? I’m here to help with whatever you need.”

Good God.

Do I need an extra set of hands? Is it this man’s life mission to destroy me completely? Maybe I should just let him help me with whatever I need? There are several ways I could put those hands to use.

My lip’s part to speak, but my mouth is as dry as the Sahara. That’s when I hear the sizzle and the distinct sound of a flame catching hold. “Shit!”

Rushing around Emerson, I run back to the BBQ and fling the lid wide. I’m met with a flash of flames so hot I feel like it may have scorched my brows. Shutting off the gas, I desperately search for the tongs. Once I find them, I scramble to take the giant steaks off the grill as quickly as I can.

The lid slams closed and I feel like I might vomit. Three severely charred steaks taunt me from the plate. Reminding me that no matter how much I try to cover myself up, nothing can hide just how much of a failure I am. Emotion clogs my throat, the air thinning in my lungs. I turn to see Emerson’s pinched brows and can no longer take the embarrassment.

“I just—” I gasp. “I j-just forgot something in the fridge in the barn. I’ll be back.” Without another word, I bolt before Em sees me fall apart once more.

I quickly scour the vast barn in search of a place where no one can see my break. I’d left the pantry door wide open, and my eyes caught it immediately. I force my tense muscles to carry me all the way there. Once the sound of the door clicks shut, my body slides down the wall and slams onto the floor.

Tears flow out of me like a faucet. My apron’s already damp as I hold it against my face, desperate to clog the endless stream. No matter how deeply I dig in my heels to try and shut them off, I’m denied.

Anger heats my blood. Rocking back and forth, I curl further into myself.

Why am I like this? There’s no way any of this should make me upset. I thought I was over this. Thought I was finally beginning to feel alright. Now I’ve just completely embarrassed myself by running away instead of facing it like the grown woman I’m supposed to be.