Falling Sweetly (Starling Falls #2) (2 page)

I let out a small gasp, “What’s wrong with Shadow?”

“No. Seriously. First, it was the wannabe drug dealer with the face tattoos, and then it was the taxidermist with all the stuffed, dead animals in his house, who looked like he wouldn’t have minded adding a stuffed, dead Niki to his collection,” Liya said bluntly.

I let out an even bigger gasp, “Oh no, poor baby. I can’t believe he’s been sick for that long. I hope he doesn’t throw up all over you. I’m going to come home now and take him to the vet.”

Liya chuckled, “That’s some Oscar worthy acting. Be careful when you drive home, make sure that winner you’re on a date with doesn’t follow you. See you soon, little bug.”

I hung up and glanced over at the man whose name I couldn’t remember. “I’m so sorry… Todd?”

“Tad,” he said, looking put out.

“Right. Tad. Sorry. I have to go. My cat is ill. Thanks for an… interesting dinner,” I said as I threw down some money to cover my meal.

He frowned at me again. “We should finish up this date properly sometime. Let me get your address.”

“Oh. No. That’s okay. Thanks anyway,” I blurted as I turned so quickly, I almost knocked over a waiter carrying a large tray of food.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly to the annoyed waiter, before power-walking over to the coat check and thrusting my ticket at the attendant.

The pretty brunette smiled widely. “Did you have a pleasant meal here at Cannata’s?” she asked, as she handed me my coat.

Not really. The chicken was dry, the miserly portion of salad didn’t have enough dressing on it and what little dressing it did have, wasn’t seasoned at all. The tomatoes were unripe and I’m pretty sure they forgot to put the avocado and cucumber on my plate, unless my chicken thief of a date ate that too.

“Sure,” I lied, as I pulled on my coat hurriedly, “Everything was great.”

“Perfect,” the attendant said as her grinned widened further, “We hope to see you here again!”

Don’t hold your breath, lady. That won’t be happening anytime soon.

“Sure. Bye.” I rushed out the door, looking back to see my date eyeing up a waitress, as he finished the rest of my salad. I snorted in amusement.

At least he’s not wasteful.

I found my keys and hurried over to the new small green car I’d bought a couple of months ago eager to get home. At times it was hard to believe how much my life had changed in the last year.

If someone had told me a year and a half ago that I would be running my own bakery and living in a different country, I would have told that person that drugs are very, very bad, and that they should probably stop taking whatever they were on before it permanently altered their mental state.

My sister and I were born in London to two loving, parents who were both brilliant doctors.

Our lives were pretty much idyllic, until our mother passed away in a car crash and we lost our father a week later from a stroke.

I had been fourteen at the time, and my sister, Maliya, had been eighteen. She dropped out of college, got a job and applied for custody of me.

As a child, I had always had a close relationship with my sister, a fact that had never changed over the years.

So when I had made the slightly impetuous decision to quit my job and move country to run our estranged grandaunt’s bakery, she had decided to come with me.

Our grandaunt, Aunt Trudy, was a bad-tempered, coarse, cranky, straight-talking old lady and I had loved her dearly. It had been four months since she had passed away but I still missed her every day.

Prior to moving to Starling Falls, I had only met her once ten years ago when she had come to England for our parent’s funerals, and we had kept in touch a couple of times a year through brief phone calls.

Early last year she had broken a hip and after managing the bakery for over fifty years she had made the heart-breaking decision to sell it, as she simply couldn’t manage running the business anymore.

During one of our phone calls, I could tell from her tone of voice how upset she was at having to sell her pride and joy.

Baking had always been a passion of mine. After finishing secondary school, I had enrolled in Pastry School, and managed to get a highly sought after job in a stylish, trendy bakery in Chelsea, working under the tutelage of an amazing pastry chef named Paulette St. Pierre.

It had been a job I had loved, but the unchanging role had grown stale (no baking pun intended) over the years, and I found my passion for baking had begun to waver.

My offer to run the bakery had been instantaneous; it had slipped out of my mouth before I had even thought about it. Liya had thought I’d gone mad when I told her, but it was one of the best decisions I’d ever made.

Thus, two lonely girls from London had wound up in the small, quirky little town of Starling Falls. It was a gorgeous town, surrounded by dense, lush woodlands and a small mountain range. The town had actually been named after one of the beautiful waterfalls found in the mountains.

In coming to Starling Falls I had rediscovered my love of baking and my sister had found the love of her life.

Liya had been even more reluctant than I had been with letting people in, so the fact that she was now in a relationship was beyond surprising.

Liya and Caleb had met in a rather unusual way on the day the bakery reopened. Their journey was not a straightforward one by any means. My sister had some emotional hang-ups about getting close to people.

However, after Aunt Trudy’s funeral, Liya had been given a letter, written by our grandaunt, which had finally made her see sense.

Apparently, life-changing letters were Aunt Trudy’s forte.

Four months later and Liya and Caleb had moved in together, were blissfully engaged, and I couldn’t have been happier for them, but seeing them so in love had made me realise that I wanted that for myself too.

Aunt Trudy’s letter had hit the nail on the head. I had always been a shy child, but had become even more introverted with age, especially after my parent’s death. Due to this shyness, the few dates I had been on while living in London had never led anywhere.

I would withdraw into myself as soon as I met someone. Because of this, no one apart from Liya had ever really known the real me.

Liya used to tell me that I had issues with self-esteem. I said I just had issues, full stop.

After reading Aunt Trudy’s letter, I knew I needed to make a change if I wanted to find love. So I had signed up to an online dating website, though with each man I met, it seemed like an increasingly horrible idea.

I was still cautiously optimistic that the perfect guy was out there. However, after the last couple of dates, I was beginning to think crazy cat and fish lady was the only future I had left in store.

CHAPTER 2

Jacob

“I swear those contests are rigged,” my sous-chef and right-hand woman, Tisha Perez complained furiously as she carefully rolled her chefs knives away.

I looked down at her. “Well, we knew it was going to be a long shot anyway,” I said calmly, trying to avoid getting her riled up further.

The last time she had gotten angry pots and plates had been thrown, and I wasn’t in the mood to play ‘dodge the flying frying pan’ again.

She looked at me surprised. “Why are you so calm all of a sudden? The last time we placed third at a competition you basically worked twenty days straight to create a new menu.”

Too drained to care, I shrugged and ran a hand through my short blond hair. “You win some you lose some. Placing fifth nationwide is not bad, Tisha. It’s the best we’ve ever done in this competition.”

We had been in New York for a week for the annual National Culinary Association’s Fine-Dining Competition. My staff had been attending the contest every year without fail, hoping for first or second place, but so far had not come close.

In addition to a cash prize, which would have been useful considering how badly the restaurant had been doing financially lately, the publicity from winning an award at the competition would have also generated some much needed publicity for the restaurant.

Tisha undid her hair tie and allowed her shoulder length, dark brown hair loose. She looked at me with annoyed amber eyes. “At least those assholes from Cannata’s didn’t turn up this year.”

I nodded in agreement.
Why the hell didn’t they?

The question left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Monty Cannata, the owner of ‘Cannata’s,’ a restaurant in the neighbouring town of Smithsville, was a miserable, competitive bastard and all around awful human being. For decades he had thought of Marco, the owner of the restaurant I worked at, as a rival.

“Why didn’t they turn up?” Tisha asked, echoing the question running through my mind.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is I’m more than ready to go home,” I said with a shrug as I packed the remaining pieces of black truffle carefully.

“Let’s hope that jackass hasn’t managed to burn the place to the ground while we’ve been gone,” Tisha grumbled referring to the other sous-chef at Marco’s, Dillon Morant, whom I had put in charge for the week while we were away.

“He may be a dick, but he’s talented, Tish. That’s why we put up with him. Even though I would like to boil his head in all that goose fat he seems to love using on every fucking thing,” I said with a sigh.

I nodded to some familiar faces as we left the competition area with our bags and equipment to get a taxi to the airport.

Tisha was still in a snit next to me, so I made the wise decision to stay silent and not ask her about any potential changes to the recipes we had made for the competition.

Keep your mouth shut and do not anger the beast by talking on the drive to the airport. She is tiny but freakishly strong. You’re in a small confined space. She throws something at you, you may not survive it.

Yawning loudly, my attempt to stretch my long legs was hampered by cramped space in the back of the cab, and I shifted uncomfortably. I rolled my neck and closed my eyes as I rested my head against the headrest to try and get some sleep before the flight.

Between the hectic past couple of days of the competition and the strain I’d been feeling at the restaurant, I was mentally and physically exhausted.

In the past couple of months, I’d started working sixteen hour days, six days a week, and the extra hours were beginning to take a toll. I constantly felt worn out and drained.

The message alert on my phone sounded and I groaned, took out my phone from my pocket and reluctantly opened my eyes to read the message.

I smiled when I saw that it was a text from my twin, Josh.

JOSH:
You put any herb things on the pizza? It smells kinda funky.

I snorted at his message before replying.

ME:
Pizza’s over a week old, man. You’re smelling mould.

JOSH:
So… don’t eat it?

My brother is an idiot.

ME:
You want a repeat of what happened when you ate all that leftover Thanksgiving turkey in 2010? Definitely do NOT eat.

JOSH:
Dude. I’m starving. When you coming back? Nate can’t cook for shit and Caleb is always off somewhere, too busy sucking face with Liya to see to my nutritional needs. I’m wasting away to practically nothing here.

I rolled my eyes at how pathetic his message was.

ME:
Go to Aunt Deb’s.

JOSH:
I tried. She and Uncle Jeremy were making out in the kitchen. I fled in horror to protect my innocence.

I shook my head at the thought of my brother being anything even close to innocent but decided to take pity on him.

ME:
Frozen lasagne. Top shelf of the freezer. Heat up at 400°F for 50mins to an hour. Make sure it’s hot all the way through. Don’t eat half frozen food again.

JOSH:
Sweet. Safe flight, bro.

I switched off my phone and put it back in my pocket as I stared out the window, thinking about all the shit I needed to get done when I got back to town.

Please don’t let taking Josh to the hospital for food poisoning, again, be one of those things.

I came from a big family of six children. Nate was the oldest, followed by Caleb, me, Josh and then twins Alex and our sister, Addie.