A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) (9 page)

So much for Napa. And so much for my boyfriend.

***

I woke up Tuesday morning sweaty and agitated, with my throat sore and my pulse raging. My cheeks were still wet with tears. There were no telltale signs that William had ever made it to bed and I was kind of glad I was by myself: I’d had the dream. I hadn’t had it in a long time, but it was a familiar one. And a bad one. William didn’t need to see me like this.

In my dream, Jace and I were out on our boards beyond the break at Pleasure Point, the spot we always surfed in Santa Cruz, and we were waiting for the next set to roll in. It was early, just before sunrise, and overcast, so the cliffs had an eerie dark cast in the distance. We were silently bobbing up and down on our boards, our wetsuits black and glistening in the grey Pacific, and Jace kept turning his head over his shoulder to watch the water. “The next one’s yours, Cat. Get ready.”

I maneuvered my board and laid down in position. My arms started to move furiously as I propelled myself forward. I could feel the water rising beneath me as the wave started to crest. “Go, Cat! Go!” I could hear Jace yelling in the background.

Just as I popped up and got my footing, ready to ride the wave into shore, I was hit hard in the back and knocked off my board. It knocked the wind out of me and I couldn’t breathe. I was pulled down, down into the frigid dark water, deeper and deeper. It was a dream, so I could still scream even though I was submerged and my throat and lungs burned as I struggled for air.

“Jace, Jace, help me! Help me! Pull me up!” But I couldn’t lift my arms. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t lift them up. I struggled, I twisted, but it was like they were tied to my side. “Jace, I can’t move! Help me!” I continued to sink down, down, down. I kept twisting and turning, trying to break free of whatever was holding my arms and start swimming toward the surface. But I just kept sinking deeper into the cold darkness and all I could hear was Jace, his voice getting fainter and fainter, saying “Go, Cat! Go!” And then I woke up.

The location changed sometimes, and sometimes it was daytime and sunny. But there was always the weird grey cast to everything and the same events occurred: my catching the wave, being knocked off my board, not being able to breathe, and then sinking like a rock with my arms unable to move, and Jace in the background saying, “Go Cat! Go!” I’d talked to Beckett about the dream lots of times over the past three years. Ever since Jace died. Sigmund Freud Beckett thought it meant I was afraid of being swallowed by forces hidden in the depths of my unconscious. Like the guilt I felt about the accident. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it scared me and stirred up too many painful and upsetting memories, that I always felt unsettled and on edge after I had it.

I took my bad dream as a sign that I need a change of scenery. I got up, showered, and dressed, then I marched into the kitchen and demanded, “Is there a car I can use? I want to go into town.” St. Helena was nearby, and when William and I had driven through it Saturday night, it looked like it had some cute shops and historic charm.

At my request, Nancy and Sam exchanged a look. Sam cleared his throat. “I’ll ask Darius.”

“I can drive myself. My license is perfectly valid here,” I called after Sam.

I ignored Nancy’s offers of breakfast while we waited. A few minutes later Darius appeared, looking as big and buff as ever, but carrying car keys. “Where would you like to go, Miss Kelly? I’ll drive you.”

Big surprise. Darius was going to keep playing shadow.

“I want to go into St. Helena and do some shopping. And I might sit in one of the cafés and work. For the entire day.” Anywhere but here, obsessing about William. I reached for the keys.

“I’ll drive you, Miss Kelly.”

I raised a brow. “I know how to drive, and I don’t need a babysitter.”

He didn’t even blink. “Mr. Lambourne’s orders, ma’am.”

“Whatever.” I knew I was being a petulant brat, but I didn’t care. I grabbed my laptop, camera bags, and purse and joined Darius in the remaining big black SUV.

St. Helena was surprisingly quiet on a Tuesday morning. Darius parked outside one of the shops that lined the main street, and I climbed out, shouldering my bags. I looked in a few boutiques that showcased local artists and clothing designers and all the while, Darius stood guard outside the shop or lumbered behind me as I walked. What did he think was going to happen here?

I’d been so happy with William the night we’d gotten back together and I really thought everything was going to be perfect between us. And things had been going pretty well, but now we were right back to what broke us up in the first place. Except now I loved William—at least I thought I did. But I was starting to think maybe love wasn’t enough to forgive all the secrecy and the way he had closed himself off to me. I needed more. I deserved more. I knew that, but I still felt totally miserable at the thought of breaking up with William again. I didn’t want to. At all. But then there was the Anya Pierce situation to contend with, though even I had to admit that I was grasping at straws there.

Just then, my cell buzzed, and I paused in front of a boutique and pulled it out of my bag. A dozen steps behind me, Darius paused too. I guess the cell service wasn’t so great because it had gone straight to voicemail. As soon as I heard my dad’s voice, my stomach tightened into knots.

“Hey! How’s my favorite girl? Just checking in. Call me, Cat.”

I pocketed the phone and took a deep breath. Darius was watching me, so I made a point of wandering a bit more, feeling a weird sense of nostalgia and unease. It was strange to be back in Northern California again. It felt so familiar, but with Darius never far from sight, I felt like I was hiding out in the witness protection program or something. My parents had no idea I was here. I wondered what my dad would make of William and all of his bullshit. He would definitely be hurt to know I was in Napa and hadn’t come to see him. There was a thought. Maybe I should steal the keys to the SUV from Darius or find a rental car agency and drive to Santa Cruz and play it off like an impromptu visit. I could say I was homesick or something.

I was caught up in my fantasy escape planning when my phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Beckett.

Sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. Super busy. Trying out new recipes. You?

I stopped walking again and Darius stopped too, so I could answer.

Sulking. William is AWOL. Again.

Tough hanging out at the mansion by yourself.

I knew I didn’t make a very pity-worthy subject, but I didn’t care about mansions and vineyards. I just wanted William.

More like a gilded cage
and I ditched it. Now I’m shopping,
I answered.

Boo hoo you, but that sucks. Maybe you should just come home.

Maybe I should.

Hutch Morrison is waiting.

I’d totally forgotten about that voicemail.
So who is he? Big shot chef?

Biggest of the big. He’s so hot right now. Seriously hot. And Morrison Hotel is the most sought after ticket in town. Literally. You have to buy a ticket to get in.

A ticket?

Check it out.

A moment later a link came through. I clicked on it, and it took me to the Morrison Hotel restaurant website. It looked like a high-concept restaurant with really elevated cuisine. From what I gathered, the entire menu and concept changed on the chef’s whim, and Hutch Morrison’s whims leaned toward rock albums. It was global news when he announced his next theme:
Sticky Fingers
was coming next. Interesting…

A few moments later, another text came through.
Here’s the man himself.

An image of a tattooed guy appeared on my phone. A seriously hot tattooed guy.

This is Hutch?

Oh, yeah. He’s a Southern boy, lots of charm but with a hard rock-and-roll edge. He used to be in a band, so the rocker thing is legit. Ticket to the restaurant is worth it just to ogle him.

There was no doubt Hutch Morrison was a sexy bad boy type. He had the bedroom eyes, the slow, sexy smile, and the hard body—a nice canvas for the tattoos. I was intrigued at the thought of meeting him. I bet he was just as hot in person; guys like him always were.

I’ll give him a call tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Don’t forget. Big chance for you, don’t miss it.

Right. See you soon.

I put my phone in my purse, then pulled it out again and stared at the picture of Hutch Morrison. I’d call his publicist tomorrow or later in the week. It might be interesting to do some shots of this guy’s food. Or of the man himself.

My mind was going around and around in circles and I was too. After I passed the same wine bar three times, I decided to take a break. Coffee and work sounded perfect.

With Darius right on my heels, I went in a café called the Bean and Brew, dropped my bag on a couch, and went to the counter. I studied my choices and ordered my old standard—café latte. The coffee shop wasn’t busy, and my drink was ready quickly. I carried it back to the couch where I’d left my laptop as the door to the café opened.

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the man who walked in. I heard someone—probably me—emit a small cry and then I felt hot liquid splash on my feet. The mug I’d been holding smashed on the floor. Jace was standing in front of me.

Seeing Jace’s face again, seeing him live and in the flesh, sucked the air right out of me. I gripped the back of a chair for support and struggled to gasp in a breath. My whole body shook, and my knees felt like they were about to give out. I had to lean heavily on the chair to stay upright.

Of course, I knew it wasn’t Jace. He was dead. I’d seen his lifeless body on the table at the morgue in Hawaii and then I’d buried him outside of Atherton. This wasn’t my husband. Of course it wasn’t. And there was only one other person who looked this much like Jace: his brother.

“Jeremy,” I stuttered.

He looked as shocked to see me as I was to see him. “Cat?”

I nodded, blown away by how much his voice sounded like Jace’s. I heard that voice in my dream this morning—or a version of it—but it had been so long since I’d heard it for real. So long since I’d seen Jeremy, not since…I didn’t want to remember that.

I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to hug him and another part just wanted to run. Jace and Jeremy weren’t twins. Jeremy was almost a year younger than Jace, the same age as me, but the resemblance was striking. I remembered remarking on it the first time I met him. I tried to focus on the little differences between the two brothers now. Jeremy’s hair had always been darker than Jace’s and his eyes were a little closer set. He didn’t have the surfer tan Jace always sported, and though he and Jace shared many of the same expressions, the one on his face now wasn’t one of Jace’s. I thought of it as Jeremy’s smug look.

“What are you doing here, Cat?” Jeremy asked, stepping closer. Clearly, he could see I was shocked, but he wasn’t going to give me any room.

“I…”

“God, it’s good to see you, babe.” Jeremy pulled me into his chest in a warm embrace. I had two options: I could push out of his arms and make an excuse to go, or I could let it happen. I could go with it and take a step back into the world I once knew.

Yesterday I probably would have made a beeline to the exit, run right back to Casa di Rosabela, and told William everything. But William wasn’t there waiting for me and I didn’t know where the hell he was. I was confused and in desperate need of a friend. Right now, Jeremy felt like home.

“Do you want to sit outside and have a cup of coffee?” I asked.

“Sure.” He nodded to the one I’d dropped on the floor. “Let me get you another. Latte, right?”

“Right.”

He moved to the counter, and with a mumbled apology to the barista cleaning up my mess, I moved outside and sat at a table in the sun. I shouldn’t be with Jeremy right now. If Beckett knew, he’d tell me to get the hell out of here.

And he’d be right.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way William was behaving. He’d completely ditched me for basically three days in a row, and I didn’t understand why. I’d felt closer to him these past few days and, sexually, we couldn’t get any hotter. Whatever distance was between us now was all his doing, for reasons he refused to tell me. And it hurt. It wasn’t as though he could throw stones. He was probably sipping coffee with Anya Pierce right now.

I hadn’t wanted to come back to Northern California—for good reason—but I’d done it because William asked me to, because he said he needed me. But ever since we stepped foot off his plane on Sunday night, he hadn’t seemed to need me at all. And now I was in the exact situation I most feared, without any backup.

I looked through the glass of the coffee house window and saw Jeremy heading my way, cups of coffee in both hands.
I can handle this
, I told myself. My relationship with Jeremy might be weighted down by a ton of baggage—by things I wasn’t proud of—but if I steered us clear of difficult topics, we could both get through this. Maybe it would even be pleasant.

“Latte,” Jeremy said, handing me a cup and taking the chair opposite mine. “So what are you doing back here? I thought you moved to Chicago.”

I sipped the latte, giving myself time to think of an answer. “I did. I’ve only been here a few days. I came with a friend who was unexpectedly called away on business. I’m still living in Chicago.” My gaze strayed across the street to where Darius was stationed. He was making no secret of the fact he was watching me. As I stared at him, he lifted his cell and spoke into it. So he wasn’t only a babysitter, but an informant too.

I wondered what Darius was saying—and to whom. That I was having coffee with an attractive man? William probably wouldn’t be happy to hear that. Good. Maybe he’d wonder what I was up to for a change.

“Good time to visit,” Jeremy said. “I bet the weather in Chicago sucks right now.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cold. It’s taken some getting used to.” I was surprised Jeremy didn’t try to press me for more details, though I wouldn’t have offered any if he had. I wasn’t ready to make my relationship with William—whatever the state of it was—public knowledge, especially not to Jeremy. He didn’t need to know what I was doing here. Hell, right now I didn’t even know what I was doing here.

“How are you?” I asked.

Jeremy’s whole face brightened. “I’m great! I graduated from law school last summer, and I’m engaged.”

“Really? That’s terrific. Congratulations. Anyone I know?”

“Nah.” He shook his head and sipped his espresso. “Her name is Amy, and we met at Stanford. She’s a lawyer too, but she works for the state in child advocacy.”

I nodded, a little surprised by his enthusiasm. I might not want to share the details of my life, but Jeremy was happy to tell me everything.

“The wedding is at the end of June,” Jeremy revealed. “We thought we might do it at the beach, but we haven’t decided yet. Amy is kind of freaking out because she says it’s getting late. Guess you gotta book wedding stuff way far in advance.”

I didn’t want to talk about weddings with the guy who had been one of the only witnesses to mine. “So where are you working?”

“With Dad’s firm in San Francisco. Corporate law, which pays well, but the work weeks are brutal. I’m only out of the office today because I’m up here meeting a client. I’m talking ninety-hour weeks, and…”

I realized I was just watching Jeremy talk and not listening to his words at all. It was hard not to stare at this man who looked so much like the man I’d married, so much like the man I’d thought I would share my life with. I remembered Jace so clearly. My heart clenched when Jeremy twisted his mouth in just the way Jace used to.

But Jeremy wasn’t Jace and I tried to focus on his eyes and his hair. Those were different, weren’t they? Maybe I was I just manufacturing differences to keep my heart from breaking at seeing Jace’s look-alike. After three years, I wasn’t sure how well I really remembered the details of Jace’s face. A picture was one thing, but in the flesh, he and Jeremy had been so alike.

Their voices might have been eerily similar, but Jeremy was rattling on about mergers and liquidation of assets and Jace never would have talked about something like that. He would have rolled his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Not very mature, but—

“Hey, Cat, I want to apologize for my mom.”

My eyes snapped to Jeremy’s, and I stiffened. I did
not
want to talk about Jace’s parents. “Jeremy—”

He held up a hand. “She was awful to you. I know that and she knows that now. She tried to reach out to you.”

I pressed my lips together.

“Obviously, she didn’t succeed,” Jeremy said, reading my expression.

Hell, no, she didn’t succeed. I would never forget how she’d stood over my hospital bed in Hawaii, pointing her bony finger at me and screaming, “You killed my son. You killed my Jace.”

Mr. Ryder had to drag his distraught wife out of the room. That was just the first episode of her awfulness after the car accident that had killed Jace. There had been others, several of them in fact, and the Ryders were one of the reasons I didn’t want to come back to California, with or without William. I didn’t want to face them or the ghosts of my past and then wallow in all the grief and misery again. I’d been there, done that, and I’d escaped.

I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw that Darius was off his phone and facing me, arms across his broad chest. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but everything about his stance indicated he was not happy. I felt as though I was a teenager again, doing something I shouldn’t. But I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I was tired of being shut out. I wanted out of here. I wanted to go back to Chicago, where I was Catherine Kelly, where I’d made a new life for myself.

“So I just wanted to apologize for everything, Cat. I know it wasn’t right,” Jeremy continued. “My mother is sorry too. Hey, I have to head back to the city, but it was good catching up with you.” He rose.

“Wait.”

He paused, looking down at me, and I heard myself say, “I know this is asking a lot, but since you’re heading back to the city, do you think you could drop me at SFO?”

“Now?” His brow wrinkled.

“Yeah. Um…” I had to think fast. This wasn’t something I’d planned, but as soon as I said it, I couldn’t wait to leave. “I’m booked on a flight tonight, but I thought if you drove me, we’d have more time to talk, to catch up. I was going to take a cab, but…”

“Sure. No problem, but what about your luggage?”

“I…have it right here.” I gestured to my purse, computer, and camera bags. Those were all I cared about anyway. I could leave the rest.

“In that case, let’s go.”

I hefted my bags onto my shoulder and followed Jeremy to a blue Prius parked in front of the coffee shop. I was in and Jeremy had the car started before Darius made it across the street. I watched in the side mirror as he pulled his phone out of his jacket and angrily punched the screen with a finger. Then I leaned back, rested my head on the seat, and smiled. It had been easier than I thought to ditch him.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Jeremy asked.

Shit. It was a 90-minute drive to San Francisco. I didn’t want to talk about the accident, and I didn’t want to talk about William Lambourne. I needed to keep it light.

“You know what I was thinking about?” I said, forcing a smile. “You mentioned Stanford. Remember the first time I met you?”

“When you and Jace came up for the Stanford-Cal game?”

“Yeah. Jace and I had only been together for a few weeks,” I said as we passed the last of St. Helena’s buildings. It was a small town, quickly left behind, and then we were on our way to San Francisco. I’d really done it. I’d really just left William. I thought I’d feel relieved, but instead I felt incredibly sad.

“I remember thinking he had it bad. Every time he looked at you, he got this look in his eyes.”

“Really?” I’d heard this story so many times and I knew Jeremy had too, but we were both looking for things to talk about to fill the time and Jace was our common denominator.

I didn’t remember any look, but Jace and I had started dating my freshman year at UC Santa Cruz. He was a sophomore and, with his blond hair and big smile, he was irresistible.

“You weren’t his usual type at all. You were this sweet, beautiful hippie girl. Really mellow.”

“Sweet? Hardly. Remember the parties after the game?”

He laughed. “Well, you did match my frat brothers shot for shot of tequila.”

“See? Not so sweet. I think I passed out in your dorm room. You were lucky I didn’t puke.” We both laughed at that.

I stared out the window at the rolling fields and hills of Napa, but in my mind I saw Jace and all the fun we’d had together that year. Jeremy and I reminisced about a few other parties and friends we’d both lost touch with, and then the conversation turned to when Jace dropped out of college at the end of his junior year.

“My parents were so pissed,” Jeremy said. “I don’t think they’ve ever gotten over it. But hey, not every surfer is offered a spot on the ASP World Tour. What was he supposed to do, say no?”

“It was his dream,” I agreed. Jeremy had always supported Jace. I remembered that now. He’d been Jace’s biggest advocate with his parents, and I had to give him credit for that. He’d been a good brother.

“And my dad never said it, but I know he was proud of him. For standing up to them, for doing what he wanted.”

I nodded. “I think Jace knew that too.” Neither of us mentioned Mrs. Ryder. Both of Jace’s parents were pieces of work. Mr. Ryder had been, and still was, a successful corporate lawyer. The kind of guy who went after the jugular. She was icy cool. She’d been born into the upper echelons of San Francisco society and never let anyone forget it. She sat on charity boards and hosted events, and beneath her gracious demeanor, she was a complete and total bitch. When Jace dropped out, she threw a fit. No son of hers was going to be a college drop-out. She had plans for her eldest, and they didn’t include the pro-surfing circuit or a hippy, artsy girlfriend.

She’d hated me, and our relationship didn’t improve even when Jace and I got married. I was his wife, but she still thought I was just a phase Jace was going through.

I remembered when the Ryders came to San Diego for Jace’s first tour outing at Trestles. I’d just been his girlfriend then, so it was pretty easy for them to be civil but basically ignore me—not that Carolyn Ryder ever treated me civilly, and she always did her best to ignore me, even after I was her daughter-in-law.

“Oh my God, remember when your dad gave Jace that shark tooth necklace at Trestles?” I hadn’t thought about that necklace until just now. Jace had been so nervous and he really wanted to make his parents proud. They ignored me, but Jeremy hung out with me. We’d both been there when Mr. Ryder gave Jace the hokey necklace.

“Jace loved that necklace,” Jeremy said.

“Yeah, I know. He wore it in just about every competition. He thought it brought him luck.” And maybe it had. But it was too bad Jace’s parents couldn’t have given him more than a cheap necklace. They’d left that day before his first ride to catch a flight back to San Francisco. They didn’t even say goodbye. Their departure had hurt him, but I remembered Jace fingering that jagged little piece of bone dangling from its black leather cord, his dad’s small gift easing some of their rejection. They never came to another of his pro events.