Chapter 6

SIX

“CASSIE.” DONOVAN’S VOICE was calm. Too calm. She braced herself for whatever was coming next. “Why didn’t you confront him? Why didn’t you tell anyone? If this guy’s unstable, you’re putting yourself and the entire kitchen staff at risk. Maybe even your guests.”

“I have reasons. Good ones.”

“Care to share?”

She couldn’t tell him. It was too embarrassing. And they didn’t have time to discuss it now anyway. “It isn’t relevant.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you.”

“It’s a free country.” Great. Now she was spouting junior-high-quality insults. No. She’d been more articulate in junior high. She fought the panic creeping through her at the memories the events of this morning had pulled front and center.

She stopped those thoughts and focused on what Donovan wanted to know. “There have been ... other incidents. Things messed up in the kitchen. Small nuisances. I didn’t think they were anything more than petty annoyances. But now?”

“Could Amos have been responsible for all of it?”

“No. Sometimes it happened before Amos arrived. Once it was when he was gone. And once he was the one who found the mess. Amos doesn’t like messes. At all.”

Donovan tapped his pen. “Would you please tell me exactly what’s happened?”

“It’s small stuff. So very small.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.” She counted on her fingers. “First, one of my paring knives disappeared.”

Cassie could see by the look on Donovan’s face that he understood. They’d talked about it before. A chef’s knives were sacrosanct. No one touched the chef’s knives without permission.

“When was this?”

“My second week on the job.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?”

“No. I was trying to keep my head above water. New kitchen, new staff, new menu. I didn’t have the energy for causing drama over a paring knife, especially when I couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been taken by accident.”

Donovan’s face told her that he found her reasoning weak, but he didn’t push it. “What happened next?”

“A few days later I planned to use the ice cream maker to make a special dessert. It’s mine. I brought it from home.”

“I’m guessing this is a very expensive ice cream maker.”

“Yes. I got it for my birthday.”

Donovan didn’t ask who’d given it to her.

“Right before we got ready to start making the ice cream, we realized the power cord was missing. And of course it has a specific adapter that isn’t common. We didn’t have anything like it in the kitchen. Had to completely change our plans.”

Cassie hadn’t realized before now that it was possible to convey emotion by breathing, but Donovan was managing it. His expression was calm and his hands were steady, but the way he inhaled through his nose was ... aggressive. There was no other way to put it.

He blew out that breath, also aggressively, and asked, “What else?”

Cassie tried to keep her tone even. “Well, a few nights after that there was a mean message in the bathroom on the mirror, and then—”

“What did it say?”

Cassie swallowed. “It suggested that I should leave. Using multiple expletives.”

Donovan’s lips flattened. “Go on.”

“And, uh, one of my jackets was cut up.”

Donovan dropped his head and took several slow breaths. “Anything else?”

“Well, really just one other thing. I had a flat tire on Monday. I mean, it could happen anywhere. I didn’t think anything of it. I took it to Mr. Monroe’s shop the next day to get a new one. I left the old one with him. But then he called yesterday and said he wanted me to know that when he looked at it more closely, he realized it had several small punctures. He didn’t think it was from road debris.”

Donovan pressed his palms to his temples and didn’t speak for a full ninety seconds. She knew because she was watching the second hand spin around on the clock over his head.

“Cassie.” He stopped. Shook his head. Started again. “Please tell me that you’ve told someone about this before now.”

She stared at the table. “When I said it all out loud just now, it seems so obvious that I should have. But when each incident occurred, I...” She groaned. “No one else knows. Except Amos. He knows about the missing knife. And he knows about the sliced-up jacket.”

She reached for her water and took a sip. “You probably won’t believe me, but when I found out about my tire, I knew it was serious. I was going to tell Gray today, but then I found out he was going to be with Meredith all day. I didn’t think one more day would matter.”

Cassie couldn’t sit still any longer. She shoved the chair back and stalked to the window. When had she turned into the stupid chick in a horror movie who didn’t have enough sense to stay alive?

But she knew. She knew the date, the time of day, what the weather had been like outside, the way the kitchen had smelled of garlic and onion and celery, and the way the screams echoed around the stainless steel the second before the gunshot that ended a life. She pressed her head to the glass.

“Cassie, this paints everything in a new light.”

“I know.”

“I’m trying to understand. I really am. You are loved by so many. What would make you think that you have to handle this on your own?”

“Because—” The words refused to come. “I’m sorry. I ... I can’t get through the day if I have to dredge all that up. I’m riding a very thin edge at the moment. I can’t ... not right now.”

A wall of heat behind her was her only warning that he’d approached her. She must really be messed up if she hadn’t heard him move. “I’m going to give you a hug, Cassie.”

He waited, and she realized that he was giving her time to tell him no. She should tell him no. Having him hold her would be a mistake. So why wasn’t she saying anything?

His hands closed over her upper arms and he pulled her back against his chest. His chin rested on her head and his arms wrapped around her. The hold was familiar. He was a big guy, and she relaxed into the safety of his embrace.

She wished she knew why he’d ended things between them. When he’d told her they would be better off as friends, he’d been so calm, so gentle, but so firm in his decision that she hadn’t been able to argue with him. At first she was completely stunned. Then the hurt and humiliation seeped through her so fast that she could barely breathe through the pain of it.

He didn’t know, of course, but when he said he wanted to talk to her that night, she’d been expecting a very different conversation. She wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal, but she thought the conversation would be about exclusivity and commitment.

Instead, he told her he was so happy to have gotten to know her and that he knew this was ultimately best for both of them. And she ... sat there. On the inside, she was confronting him and demanding an explanation. Had he been lying when he’d held her and told her she was the most beautiful thing in his universe? It hadn’t felt like a lie. She almost found the strength to call him on his behavior.

But then her mind flashed to the last time she’d confronted someone and everything that followed, and she froze. She said something stupid to Donovan like, “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

She was so terrified of confrontation that she thanked him for breaking up with her! How messed up was that?

By the time she got her head on straight, he was gone. The opportunity had passed. Their relationship was over and it had been too late for her to get the answers she needed.

Although right now, it strangely didn’t feel like anything was over or too late.

“Donovan?”

“Yeah.”

She blinked the sudden moisture from her eyes. No. She wouldn’t cry. She was tired of being afraid. Tired of tiptoeing around everyone and everything. Tired of being pushed around by her own feelings.

His arms tightened as he waited for her to speak.

But the words weren’t there. How could she tell him that she had pulled on her big-girl panties and called someone out for their behavior? And her bravery led to her being so traumatized that she’d turned into a sniveling coward who would rather put up with being mistreated and disrespected than risk being hurt that way again?

How was she supposed to say that to a man who had never been a coward a single day in his life?

“You wouldn’t understand.”

There was a weighty pause before he said, “I wish you’d give me the opportunity to try.”

She didn’t owe him an explanation. Or a conversation. Or ... anything.

But maybe if she told him what happened, she could somehow bring the conversation around to them and why he’d decided they should be friends. Because despite her attempts to get over him, their current position made it clear that she was nowhere close to being over Donovan Bledsoe.

And if she didn’t get some answers, she might never be.

“Tonight then. Right now, I have to figure out how to prepare a meal that will blow our guests away without the use of the kitchen.”

“I’m going to hold you to it.” He squeezed her tight and then released her. “Let’s get back over to Hideaway.”

She stayed facing the window until she heard him gathering his things at the table. Then she turned and joined him. They didn’t speak until they were outside and headed back to the restaurant.

“Is there any chance of us finding out who did this?” she asked.

“There’s always a chance.”

She cut her eyes at him. “Like if this guy confesses?”

“That would help.” He finally cracked a smile, albeit a teeny, tiny one. “Confession is good for the soul.”

“Subtle.”

He winked.

They didn’t talk anymore, and when they returned to Hideaway, it was to find several more cars than had been there before.

“I see the Quinn cavalry is here.” Donovan shook his head.

She opened the door to the back entrance, and what she saw brought tears to the surface. She retreated, closed the door, and leaned against the exterior wall.

Donovan immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from view. “What is it?”

“My family is awesome.” She sniffled and blinked and ran a finger under her eyes. “They always come to the rescue. Whether I’m in Atlanta or a traitor on Pierce land.”

A door opened, and she felt Donovan’s body shift and his low “Give us a second.”

The door closed.

“You aren’t a traitor.”

She laughed and sniffed. “It was a joke. But did you ever expect to see so many Quinns at The Haven?”

“I don’t know.” Donovan’s voice was low and soothing. “Things are changing. Cal lived here for a few months before his and Landry’s house was ready. And Meredith and Bronwyn are together a lot.”

“The Pierces don’t like it.”

“I don’t know that they have much choice.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not everyone is happy about me being here. They’ll be super thrilled”—she layered every word with sarcasm—“when they find out my parents, grandparents, cousins, a few aunts and uncles, and who knows who else decided to save the day.”