“If my cooking was that bad, maybe we shouldn’t allow my father to eat my spice cake after all.”
Vincent reached out and covered her hand with his. “It’s perfection. Trust me; I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”
She looked at him, trying to judge if he actually would. Then she smiled. “Not sure I like getting the blunt truth all the time, but at least, I’ll always know where I stand.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her. “I’m not one who makes a lot of promises, but I promise you, I’ll always be forthcoming.”
The smile faded. “What is it you want to tell me, Vincent?”
“One of my main purposes for attending the event was to meet your father. Brice Henderson highly recommended him.”
“I remember him. He’s come to the lodge a few times with his wife, Lena, and their son. I even babysat for them for a few hours one night so they could enjoy a late night ski. What exactly does this have to do with my father?”
“I came to offer your father a position as chef at a new restaurant I’m opening in Toronto, Canada.”
Her mouth gaped open, and she pulled her hand from his. “I don’t see how seducing the chef’s daughter would fall under a normal interview process. Or for all I know, maybe it does.”
“Renita, you can’t think that I—”
“I don’t know what to believe, Vincent. But if you want to offer my father a job, then do it, but I want nothing to do with it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s probably best if I go in alone as this is Sunday dinner, and we don’t discuss business at the table.” Once, again she was rattling off in Italian. He was glad he didn’t know what she was saying because it sounded like she wanted to wring his neck. As she reached for the door handle, he grabbed her.
“I didn’t need to tell you beforehand. I did it out of respect for you after what we’ve shared.”
She turned to face him again, but the look in her eyes told him his choice of words hadn’t helped any. “You’re right. You’re not obliged to tell me a thing.”
“Renita, I didn’t mean it to sound so harsh. I was just trying to—”
“I get it, Vincent. It’s none of my business.”
“My business is separate from my personal life. I’ve always kept it that way. Sharing with someone, caring what someone else thinks or feels about my decisions . . . this is the first time I’ve been in this situation. Most likely I didn’t present it well. But I wanted to discuss it with you first.” Even this was far outside his comfort zone. Normally he wouldn’t have shared anything. But he didn’t want to do that with Renita.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. What’s happening between us is new to me as well. I’ve never brought anyone home for dinner with my father before. I know it’s crazy, but there wasn’t anyone I wanted to before this. So I guess I’m a bit jumpy. Not knowing what to expect.”
Her voice had softened, and she seemed to relax. “You’re not the only one. Ricco has no problem asking what’s on his mind. I’m concerned what that might be today. There are a few things I’d prefer not to talk about.” Like how we spent the last thirty-six hours.
Renita laughed. “I wish I could say his bark is worse than his bite, but that’d be far from the truth.” She tapped her chin with her finger and then added, “Maybe that’s why I never brought anyone here before.”
“Thanks for the warning. Maybe I should reconsider the job offer. It’s bad enough my employees have to answer to me, they don’t deserve two of us.”
“Just so that you know, neither of you scare me.”
He reached over and pulled her into his arms. “Good, because it’s not fear I’m looking for from you.”
Vincent claimed her lips just as he heard the tapping on the driver’s side window. “There is no drive-up service, so if you want to eat, you need to come inside.”
Ricco didn’t wait for an answer, and Vincent saw him head back into the house.
“We’ll pick up where we left off later tonight.”
“Looking forward to it,” Renita said as she got out of the car.
Vincent got out and reached into the back seat for the cake. As he was standing up, he felt the impact and then cold snow trickled down his neck and into the back of his jacket. Looking up, he saw the twinkle in her eye.
“What was that for?”
“That was for deciding to tell me after we got here. If we’re going to argue, then make it somewhere more private.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I didn’t even get to finish my make-up kiss.”
If he’d been closer, Vincent would’ve rectified that issue. But she turned and bolted inside, leaving him to shake off the snow before following her. I might just start another argument on our way back to the resort. Don’t want to disappoint you twice.
Renita had no idea why she’d been so nervous about Vincent coming to her home. He seemed to fit right in. She and Vincent sat on the couch, and he held her hand gently on his lap. She actually felt like they were a couple, although they’d never brought up the subject. Maybe we’ll broach the topic before you leave.
The last thing she wanted was to come off like a pushy, insecure woman. Nothing chased a man away faster than that. Just enjoy what we have. If more comes out of it, be happy, and if it ends after today . . . you’ll find a way to be happy again one day.
She tried to focus on what was being said, but couldn’t understand half of it. When Vincent and Ricco spoke it was almost as though they talked a secret language that only chefs would comprehend. If they weren’t discussing a recipe, they spoke about the most outrageous thing they’d ever eaten. I can’t believe that these two grown men are competing on who’s eaten the most disgusting thing ever. I’m happy my food didn’t make it on the list.
The more they spoke, the happier she was that she decided not to run a kitchen. As she sat watching the fire she couldn’t help but think how this house felt so much more like a home than it did a week ago. Maria waited on him hand and foot. And she was here with Vincent. It was a new time, another chapter in her life, and she liked it.
“Would you like to help me with the coffee and dessert?” Maria asked.
“I’d be happy to.” It felt a bit odd being asked to help out in her own house. She did live there, at least half the time. But somehow it seemed as though Maria knew her way around the kitchen better than she did.
She got up off the couch but before she got far, Vincent tugged her back to him and gave her a quick kiss. It was sweet and loving, and she glowed as she followed Maria.
Once inside the kitchen Maria poured two cups and set them on the table then plopped herself in one of the chairs. “It looked like the men wanted to talk alone for a bit, so I thought it’d be a good time for us to do the same.”
Renita wasn’t sure if she wanted to be in either room at the moment. Although Maria had been their neighbor for many years and had practically watched her grow up, she couldn’t remember ever having a serious conversation with her. When she couldn’t come up with a polite way to decline her request, she took the seat on the other side of the table.
“Vincent seems to be such a nice young man.”
“Yes, he is. We’re still in the get-to-know-you stage, but I like what I’ve seen.” Which is every inch of him. She quickly brushed that thought out of her mind, but it was too late. Maria was very attuned to her reactions.
“Oh, young love. It’s a very beautiful thing. But it’s nice, even at my age.”
Renita saw how Maria’s eyes sparkled when she spoke of love. Was it possible that Maria and her father had been speaking on a more personal level before? And here I thought I played matchmaker. Better not quit my day job because I never saw a thing.
“It’s nice to see my father smiling and laughing again. It’s been a long time.”
“I understand completely. The heart is something that heals only when it’s ready. And also loves when the time is right. I wanted to make sure you’re comforta
ble with your father and me being . . . together.”
It wasn’t what she’d expected, but seeing them and how they interacted during dinner changed her outlook. Maria was perfect for her father. It was as though they’d been together for years. Heck, maybe they have, and I’ve always been clueless.
“You two didn’t have to hide this from me all this time.”
Maria looked puzzled. “I don’t understand? We never have . . . I mean the only time I’ve entered your home was when you asked me last week to care for Ricco. Nothing except polite conversation before that.”
“But you—”
“Love him. Yes, I do.”
Renita wanted to say that it was craziness, to even think after one week someone could truly love a person. But she was not a hypocrite. Although she hadn’t actually said the words I love you she’d thought them. And they’d called each other my love in Italian.
“I’m glad you’ve finally found each other then.”
“And you seem to have found your love as well.”
Renita shrugged.
