12
He wasn’t one of her kitchen assistants, he’d been told. So she sat him down at the table always reserved for friends and family—which he did like—and marched away back to her kitchen.
Tart, the place she held her twice-weekly supper club, was small, but not claustrophobic. It was intimate. Pretty lights twinkled and candles flickered in the chandeliers dotting the space. But even they fit the space. They were elegant without being too much. The candles took them away from formality.
“The chandeliers were her idea, weren’t they?” Damien asked Daisy.
Daisy grinned, nodding. “Yeah. She found them at a warehouse sale place. They totally work. I want some in my house.”
Levi just looked amused.
Gideon came in with Jules and Cal. Gideon tipped his chin in Damien’s direction in greeting. He knew they all had reservations. Fueled by all the idiot stuff he’d done and been dumb enough to have been photographed doing. He knew he had to prove himself.
He did like that she’d taken Jules aside and spoken with her. He had no idea what was said, but Jules’s apology had been genuine and when they’d had dinner at Mary’s the night before, they’d taken some tentative steps toward getting to know one another.
If she hadn’t been . . . well, so wonderfully Mary, he wouldn’t have made the effort. But she was. He needed to have a long talk with Ezra about it when he got home. Ez would have great advice, would listen without judgment and wouldn’t ever let him weasel out of anything.
Gillian and Adrian came in with smiles for everyone.
“Didn’t expect to see you guys tonight.” Jules waved at them, coming to sit, a drink in her hand.
“Miles is at the movies with his friends. He’s a little sad now that they’ll be here at the high school and he’ll be in Seattle. But they’ve all pledged to keep hanging out so he’s off for pizza and movies.” Gillian smiled at Damien as she sat. “Hello, you.”
“Evenin’, Miz Brown. Hey, Adrian.”
“Hey, Damien. What’s on the menu tonight?” Adrian picked up the card on the plate. “F*ck yeah, fried chicken. Mary’s fried chicken is so good. I hope there’s extra because I could eat eight pieces.”
Gillian laughed, leaning into his arm. “The crime is that you could and it would never show.”
He turned to her, tracing over her bottom lip. “English, you know how much I love your body. Eat as much fried chicken as you want; I’ll keep loving your body.”
She ducked her chin, blushing furiously.
Mary came out with one other server and began to place things on the tables. There were fifteen tables in the room, seating a maximum of four people. And their table, which seated ten. Seventy people maximum, she’d told him. She wanted to keep the feeling intimate and the quality of the food high.
“Smoked salmon dip with vegetable chips.” She smiled at him before she looked at anyone else. “And a quick vegetable pickle.”
“She’ll sit with us once the main course is served. But for now she’s going to get the salad course set up,” Daisy explained as everyone began helping themselves, passing things up and down the table, pausing to hum their delight.
He wished she was with him right then, but he also liked this chance to watch her at work. She moved surely, confidently. This was her world and she was in charge. Hot.
He broke his gaze away from where she’d just disappeared into the kitchen and turned to Adrian. “Saw the news this morning. Triple platinum. Damn. Congratulations.”
Adrian grinned. “Awesome, isn’t it?”
“Reg Thorne did an amazing job, but it’s the songwriting that really pushed it over. You and Erin are such a solid team.”
Gillian made a little hum. “Even though they fight like cats and dogs sometimes.”
Adrian laughed. “If you think Erin and I fight, you should see the Hurley boys throw down. Didn’t Paddy break your nose once?”
He snorted. “Twice actually. Vaughan sort of stays out of it. My mom says it’s because Paddy and I are so close in age, only ten months apart. I say it’s because Paddy is a control freak and a dick. But he plays guitar like nobody’s business, and he can sing better than the rest of us, so we let him stay.”
Gillian laughed, reaching out to pat his hand. “Oh, that’s all talk. You three love each other very much. I saw how he reacted when the photographer tried to take that shot of you and Mary.”
Cal leaned forward to listen. “What’s this?”
Damien hadn’t meant to have that brought up. Mary didn’t know about Paddy’s defense of her and how he’d nearly ended up in jail over it. Damien knew his brother wouldn’t want her feeling guilty. “She doesn’t need any of that stuff.” Paddy had been so enraged that the photographer had invaded their privacy and was threatening Mary that he’d nearly gone to jail over it when the photog called the cops. Luckily, the guy had been trespassing and had made a threat to Paddy first. “Look, Mary doesn’t know about it. He’d be embarrassed about it and I don’t want her to worry. At the Gorge, the photographer climbed a fence and Paddy caught him with his camera and high-powered lens pointed at Mary while she was backstage. My brother, um, physically removed the guy, who tried to call the cops to press charges. But people saw him threaten Paddy first and he’d been trespassing too. We sign on for that crazy. People like Mary don’t.”
“Thank you. For, you know, getting her back. Thank your brother too.” Cal tipped his chin in Damien’s direction.
He shrugged, feeling awkward.
More food came, including the famous fried chicken, and she finally sat at the table, right next to him.
It was indeed so good he could have eaten eight pieces. She seemed to glow when people loved her food and he knew it was because she loved to take care of people. Loved it when what she created made folks happy.
He wanted to help clean up but she refused. He sat around with her friends drinking beer and chatting while she and her crew got things ready for the following day.
Adrian watched Gillian as she laughed with Jules and Daisy. “Hard to break in to a long-term group.”
They were letting their guard down around him. He should probably send flowers to Gillian for that story she told about Paddy and the photographer. Until that moment they’d only known him as the guy with a beer in his hand and his face in cleavage.
Damien shrugged. “They don’t know me. I get it.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier while you’re dealing with it. They’re good people. Close to each other. You’re doing fine. Mary is an awesome woman. You have good taste. If it helps, they didn’t like me much at first either. I was a dick, handled things wrong. But they want her to be happy and from what I can tell, you make her happy. They’ll relax once they get to know you.”
“I like her. She makes me smile. How’s Miles liking his new school?”
“So far it’s just been orientation stuff. He starts for real on Tuesday. But already the Kid’s kicking ass. He’s not the only son or daughter of a musician there, which makes it a little easier. The school knows how to deal with security in a way his other school wouldn’t have. Not that it was bad, just not their norm. I feel better with him there. Safer. After this tour he’s thriving in a new way. Making music is now a much larger part of his life and he digs it.” Adrian paused. “You were right to suggest it. Right to suggest he get more specialized education.”
“Your kid has mad talent. No surprise really, given who his parents are. I’m glad it worked out.”
“He’ll miss his old school, I know. But I’m thinking this is a good new start for him.”
“How’s life now that the tour has ended?”
“I’m still getting used to it. I mean, we had the house built, I made a record, we got married, had a short honeymoon and went directly on tour for a few months. It’s really only now that it feels real. I’ve seen a lot. Done a lot. But when I’m with Gillian and Miles, I’m home.”
Adrian’s gaze moved to Gillian again, a smile on his face. Mary came out from the kitchen and they all moved to leave.
* * *
They went back to her place and talked until long after midnight. He was going home the following day. She didn’t ask him to stay any longer and he wanted her to. She didn’t push for any more than he’d already given. But he wanted her to.
He’d thought about it pretty much the entire trip back home. Especially after the conversation he and Adrian had had. He’d known Adrian for a long time. There was a big, soul-deep change in his friend.
Mary had already changed the way he thought. Part of it was that he couldn’t figure her out. Which was unusual and maybe part of her appeal. But he doubted it. She didn’t have an agenda. It kept making him nervous. And then he’d realize how f*cking nice it was that he didn’t have to constantly worry about it.
He’d had a few longer-term relationships before, mainly before they broke big. But women usually wanted to spend time together. Mary had a busy life and when he left that afternoon, she hadn’t dug around about when she’d see him again. In fact, he’d been the one to say he’d call her soon.
And then the appeal of moving on to the next city and therefore not having to worry about anyone wanting more from him than a night or two wasn’t enough. He wanted more. The tour was over, his life would have some quiet moments, and he realized, quite clearly, that he wanted to spend that time and energy pursuing this thing, this possibility of a thing with Mary Whaley.
He stopped in Portland to grab doughnuts and coffee. His mother was of the opinion that Folgers was just fine and any fancy crap he bought was a waste of money. He never knew any different until they’d started to make some real money and stopping at gas stations for seventy-five-cent burritos and ulcer-creating sludge wasn’t their only option.
Now he knew and now, as his mother said, he was a bit of a coffee snob. He had his favorites and was sure to have it when they traveled.
Mary had Kona coffee in her pantry. He smiled. Showed what good taste she had. He should take her to Hawaii. So they could have it fresh.
It was late enough that he didn’t catch too much traffic, and by the time he got through Portland, he started coming home. The road changed, the sights became more familiar. The river glittered.
He’d been all over the globe. But nowhere else made him feel like coming home the way Hood River did.
* * *
When he pulled over the last rise and saw the land he let go of his last bit of stress. This was his. He’d run over these hills, chasing things, running from a pissed-off older brother. Later they’d ridden horses and ATVs. There’d be activity at first light in the morning. The pears were close to harvest.
His window was down and the scent of freshly cut grass and alfalfa hung in the air. The lights were on in the main house, he noted as he passed. He’d stop at his place first and wander up to see his parents once he’d cleaned up.
The porch light was on at his house. He smiled. Probably Ezra, who lived closest. Damien’s house would be on the way back to Ezra’s and he’d have stopped to turn it on because Damien was returning. There was something to be said about your family leaving the porch light on so you could find your way home.
The garage door made that horrible squeal when he opened it though. He sighed, something to look at. The next day or maybe the day after. The house had been aired out, he noted when he came in from the garage. He flipped the lights on. His bags had been dropped in the living room. Paddy had left a note saying his drums had been taken up to the barn.
A shower first. He stopped by the fridge and peeked. He grinned as he grabbed an ice-cold beer and cracked it open. There was milk and butter, yogurt, cheese. He knew there’d be fruit, something never in short supply around there. Bread sat on the counter. His mother, most likely.
After a shower he changed and grabbed his bike. He could have walked. It would have taken him about fifteen minutes, but he preferred to ride his ages-old Schwinn over instead.
Ezra and his dad sat on the front porch drinking iced tea.
“Thought I heard a car earlier.” His dad gave him a hug when he came up the front steps. Ezra followed.
“Just got back. Took a shower, had a beer, looked at the mail, put the mail back in the pile and came over here. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just talking about tomorrow. Just need to check the fruit. Looking pretty clean this year. Probably have another week or so before we need to harvest.”
“I’ll be around to help.”
His father nodded. That’s what you did when you lived on a family farm. He and his brothers would go away and do their thing, but when they were home, they helped. It was hard work, but it was honest work. It built character, and his father liked to say it kept them out of too much trouble.
Ezra sat again, stretching his legs out. His big brother topped six and a half feet. Because he worked the way he did, he was solid muscle, a lot like their father. He’d let his mustache and beard grow back, and when he was out on the back of a horse with a cowboy hat on, he looked like a cigarette ad from the 1970s. Right then though, he looked like a guy who’d most likely been up since five.
He wanted to talk with Ezra about Mary, but now wasn’t the time. He still needed to think on it himself.
“I’m going in to check on Mom. I’ll be back.”
“She’s in a good mood. The babies are here.”
Vaughan had two kids that had resulted from a very short marriage three years ago. She’d crumpled under the weight of being married to a musician and had divorced him about two months after Kensey, their youngest, had been born.
But to her credit, she’d agreed to settle in Gresham so they could share custody. She had a part-time job while she finished school. Vaughan paid her support and all her bills. Mostly out of guilt, but he had a lot to be guilty over. And he loved his kids without a doubt.
His support enabled her to be home with the girls and it kept her reasonable about how much time the girls spent with them. It didn’t erase the fact that he wasn’t there every day for his kids, but he was trying.
Damien grinned at the thought of the little dynamos. Vaughan wasn’t the only one who loved those kids. His nieces were awesome little girls.
Inside the house, the sound of giggles drew him toward the huge kitchen where his mother was standing at the island while the girls sat nearby coloring as their daddy looked on.
“I thought I heard there was a monkey infestation. I see there is. I’d better run.”
The girls saw him and jumped down, running to him. He scooped them both up into a hug, kissing their faces.
They laughed and so did he.
“When did you get back?” his mother asked once he put the girls down and they scampered back to their dad and their crayons.
His mother had not been pleased when Vaughan and Kelly had decided to split, but it was clear she approved of how he’d handled the situation since. It wasn’t perfect. But the girls would always know they were loved. Both sides of their family lived within an hour of them. His parents regularly had them for weeks at a time through the year, even when Vaughan was on the road.
He kissed his mom’s cheek and grabbed a piece of the cinnamon bread she’d been slicing. “About an hour ago. I’m sure you’ll thank me for the shower I took first. Speaking of thanks, glad I’ve got breakfast in my fridge.”
“I figured you’d come back with that coffee you like, but you’d forget milk and then come up here looking for it.”
“Appreciate it.” The bread hit the spot. He hadn’t eaten since the lunch Mary had made him before he left Bainbridge.
“There’s leftovers. Want some?” His mother tipped her chin toward the fridge.
He got it himself, still wanting the memories of Mary making him food to be the main ones in his head.
He listened to his nieces chatter away, Kensey more actually just chattering, as she was only three and didn’t have all her words yet. Vaughan helped them color and his mother supervised.
Paddy wandered in just as he’d finished up.
“Thanks for dropping my stuff off.”
“No big. How’s Mary?”
His mother didn’t try to hide her naked interest in that subject.
“She’s fine. Went to that supper club of hers last night. I know why it’s so popular now. We went for a hike yesterday.”
“She outdoorsy?”
His mother hadn’t liked Kelly. Mainly because Kelly was, as his mother saw it, too soft for the type of life they led. Not just the ranching aspect, but the Hurleys were rough-and-tumble. They rode horses and dirt bikes. They toured and lived hard on the road. Kelly hadn’t much been up for that sort of thing and while Damien couldn’t argue that she was incredibly beautiful, she just couldn’t keep up. She had been jealous of it, saw it as something that took Vaughan away from her.
And he supposed, she’d been right.
“She’s one of those people who is rarely still. She gets up early and goes and goes.”
“’Course she is. Girl has her own business. Who else does it for you?” His mother sniffed.
“Promised we’d go kayaking the next time I made it up to visit.”
His mother handed Kensey a crayon that had dropped before she looked back to Damien. “Did you invite her here? Have her come down harvest time.”
That would be . . . interesting. The ranch would be alive with activity. The pears would be harvested by hand and then cooled to spur ripening before they were shipped. There was even a harvest festival in town that she’d probably love. Even though they were celebrities, they were hometown boys and people rarely bugged them.
He wasn’t sure if Mary was ready for a full dose of Sharon Hurley. Then again, who ever was?
“I’ll talk to her about her schedule. Weekends are hard. That’s when the bulk of her jobs are. She’s very business-minded.”
His mother nodded as if that satisfied her.
“You’ll like her.” Vaughan spoke from the table. “You should see how hard he chases her. She’s got her own stuff to do. It hasn’t even occurred to her that she’s far more than some . . . um, friend he met on the road.”
His mother turned to him, one brow rising. “That so?”
“I think so, yeah. It’s early days. I’ve only known her three months.”
“You’ll need to show her she’s not the same.” She left it there for the time being. He knew his mother though; she’d seen for herself that he wanted Mary. Once she was sure he deserved her, his mother would turn into his greatest—albeit probably most annoying—ally.