Melissa’s question had struck like a pickax. The broken, bloody image of Mark’s body on the sidewalk surfaced, making Colby’s mouth turn pasty. Every light bulb in the restaurant buzzed in her ears as she fought to suppress the image.
“I’m sorry.” Melissa’s expression, however, didn’t look the least bit sorry. “I should’ve been more tactful.”
If there had been flatware on the table, Colby might’ve picked up a spoon and hurled it at the woman’s head.
Alec’s thumb stroked the top of her hand as he leaned forward. “Melissa, I’ll discuss Une Bouchée if you agree not to mention Mark in the article.”
“Alec—” His parents would hate reading about Joe, but Alec cut off Colby’s response with a quick hand squeeze. He intended to rescue her, and he’d never looked more attractive to her than he did then.
“Fine. And again, I apologize for my blunt delivery.” Melissa’s lame apology would be filed in Colby’s “too little, too late” drawer. “So, Alec, tell me about what happened at Une Bouchée and how you ended up here.”
Alec glanced down, steadying himself with a deep inhalation. “Prior to my brother’s accident, our relationship had become . . . contentious. I’d assumed we’d eventually clear the air, but when he died, so did that opportunity. The wasted time and petty arguments gnawed at and distracted me. Made me question my priorities. On top of that, I was dealing with my parents’ grief. That all drained my creativity.”
Colby watched Alec, wondering how forthcoming he’d be, and if she might learn the truth behind Mark’s accusation that day at Joe’s funeral.
Alec tapped a few fingers on the tabletop. “Anyone who’s worked in a kitchen—long hours, dangerous work, a need for precision—knows that there’s no room for distraction. My preoccupation cost me my restaurant and reputation. I left town to escape the memories, but returned for my parents. Fortunately, Colby’s giving me a chance to redeem myself by helping her build a first-class establishment.”
He’d woven a believable tale, but Colby suspected he’d kept something to himself. Like her, he had no one he trusted enough to unburden his guilty conscience. What if they could learn to trust each other? The wish flared like a twinkling firework and then turned to smoke just as quickly.
“You must be very grateful for Alec, considering your lack of experience.” Melissa turned her attention back to Colby. “What convinced you that you could make this major career jump?”
Colby cleared her throat, swallowing a confession of sheer desperation.
Alec interjected, “Colby’s a sharp, savvy, successful woman. She’s certainly smart enough to run a restaurant. I’ve no doubt that, with or without me, she’d make this place a success.”
“Thank you,” Colby managed. Given the numerous disagreements they’d been having about the restaurant, she knew he’d exaggerated his opinion, but she wanted to kiss him for it, anyway. That thought did nothing to ease the tension that had tightened all the muscles in her shoulders and back.
Melissa tipped her head and gestured between them. “You two seem close. Any relevant personal history here?”
“Just friends since childhood.” Colby smiled as if their hands weren’t still clasped together beneath the table.
“But never a couple?” Melissa’s expression revealed her personal interest in the answer.
“No,” Alec replied, his hand releasing Colby’s. The loss of warmth traveled all the way to her heart.
“No crush on your older brother’s friend?” Melissa teased Colby.
Colby tensed because she could neither deny nor entertain the idea.
“How about we finally discuss the menu?” Alec suggested.
While he and Melissa discussed food, Colby’s thoughts strayed. Alec confused her. One minute a dictator, trouncing people in the kitchen, the next a gentleman and friend. Yet always holding something back. Exactly the kind of dissembling she knew she should avoid. Yet here she was again, finding herself drawn to someone complicated and passionate. The same words she’d called Mark in the beginning, before the depths of his troubles were known.
“Sounds divine. Women must line up for a dinner invitation from you.” Melissa’s flirtatious tone irked Colby. “Let’s get Phillip to snap a few pictures of you two, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Like the other night when Gentry had been snapping pictures, this photographer arranged Colby and Alec in a series of poses that had their bodies brush against each other. Colby’s skin flushed from Alec’s touch. Under other circumstances, it might’ve been enjoyable. But today her thoughts ran in circles—Joe, Alec, Mark—right until the moment Melissa and Phillip walked out the door.
Breathing out the anxiety she’d pent up during the interview, Colby barely made eye contact with Alec. “Thank you for making time for that. We should both get back to work.”
Without looking at him, she went to her office and closed the door. She’d barely escaped having Mark’s and her history end up in the paper for everyone to judge. Laying her hands on the desktop, she leaned forward and drew deep breaths, determined not to open her drawer and pop a pill. Determined to be stronger.
Stronger—ha! Instead of coming across as the eager new proprietor of the Portland area’s newest restaurant, Colby had frozen at the mention of Mark, proving she still hadn’t put to rest the history that now buckled her knees.
“Colby.” Alec rested a hand on her shoulder.
She hadn’t heard him come in. Squeezing her eyes closed, she kept her back to him.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Colby blinked back her tears before facing him. “I’m sorry you had to talk about Joe because I shut down. But thank you for keeping Mark out of the article.”
A tremor whipped through her, which Alec subdued with a hug. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”
“I did nothing right, either.” She allowed herself to relax in his embrace. At another time in her life it might’ve led to something else. That thought led to a shameful confession. “I’m sick of feeling weak and confused . . . and lost. I’m afraid, Alec. What if this sorry version of myself is the best I can be now?”
He squeezed her, his voice thick with feeling. “There’s nothing sorry about any version of you. You’re resilient and generous and kind. Someday you’ll be able to look back without being overwhelmed. Until then, lean on me. I’ll start by making you laugh a little every day.”
“That’s not your job.” She sniffled against his shirt, listening to the soothing rhythm of his steady heartbeat. An unbidden memory surfaced of another time when she’d been crying and he’d comforted her. He’d kissed her, actually. Her first real kiss. The one she’d forced him to give her, back when she’d been bold and heedless of consequences. Too bad she wasn’t that bold anymore.
Her grip slackened, so he eased away and studied her face—a favorite pastime. “You’re flushed. Maybe you should sit.”