Chapter 7

SEVEN

CASSIE’S WORDS SPUN in Donovan’s head. Her parents were in there? Great. They weren’t his biggest fans. And he didn’t blame them.

He looked down at the top of Cassie’s head. He’d pulled some idiotic stunts in his day, but telling her they could only be friends? That he thought she was awesome, but he couldn’t imagine their life together? That had, without any doubt, been his dumbest move. Ever.

It had been a lie. He could imagine their life together. He could see getting down on one knee, proposing, and living in Gossamer Falls with her forever.

He would be ecstatic to wake up with her every single day for the rest of his life.

But Cassie? She would wither. And eventually, she would resent him. Cassie was a shooting star, destined for amazing things. Her genius was with the food she prepared, and she needed people who could eat her creations. More people than could be found on the streets of Gossamer Falls. And until today, Donovan hadn’t been able to imagine a scenario where she could possibly be fulfilled if she stayed here.

He’d experienced the bitterness that came when people who claimed to love you stifled your dreams. And he’d seen a life cut short because the pain of trying to please others had been too much. He couldn’t do that to her. He had to let her go so she could achieve everything she wanted. She was young, beautiful, fun, and talented, and she would find someone who could live in a place like Charlotte or Atlanta, or even New York or LA.

He wasn’t that person. He’d nearly died trying to be that person, and he knew he couldn’t go back. He certainly couldn’t ask Cassie to do what he wasn’t able to.

So he’d made a decision.

He’d let her go.

He hadn’t prayed about it. Hadn’t sought any kind of counsel. Hadn’t explained himself to Cassie. And when she didn’t fight for him? When she didn’t make any effort to hang on to what they had? He’d held on to the idea that no matter how much it gutted him, it was the right decision.

But now she was here. Her body inches from his own. She’d let him hold her earlier, but she undoubtedly assumed it was a friend offering comfort and nothing more.

She couldn’t know how much he wanted to pull her into his arms, claim her lips, tell her he was sorry, and beg her to be his.

He was sorry about her kitchen. Sorry about this Amos Cartwright character who was giving her a hard time. Sorry that she’d been traumatized.

He couldn’t do it now, but they were going to talk. And when they did, he would come clean. Worst-case scenario, she’d hate him. He’d deserve it if she did. He’d nearly lost his mind when he heard about her date last week, but he knew from his sources around town that it had been a bust. So maybe it wasn’t too late.

Cassie took in a few more shuddering breaths and wiped her hands on her pants. Donovan held his position, with his hands braced on the wall above Cassie’s head while she pulled herself together. He had to focus. Her comments about the Quinns and Pierces had sent warning bells chiming in his mind. Could some of the grumpier Pierces be behind this?

She looked up at him. “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She sniffed once and shook her shoulders. “Let’s try this again.”

He moved aside and held the door for her as she walked into the restaurant. She’d barely made it three steps before she was engulfed by family. The cacophony of voices reached a peak before a shrill whistle brought them all to silence.

Donovan almost dropped his notepad when he realized the sound had come from Rhonda Quinn, Cassie’s grandmother.

“She doesn’t need you to hover over her. She needs you to get to work. So get back to it.” The crowd dematerialized and Rhonda strode toward him. This could be ... uncomfortable. “Young man, I understand that you are in charge of the investigation.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I expect you to protect my granddaughter. She’s been through enough.”

“Nana.” The word held a touch of outrage and a healthy dose of exasperation as Cassie put a hand on her grandmother’s arm.

“Hush, child.” The words were brusque, but the hand that patted Cassie’s was gentle. “Let me talk.”

Cassie threw him an apologetic look but said no more.

“I’m sure you’re an excellent officer. But if you need anything at all, you let us know. We protect our own. And Cassie is precious.”

“Nana.” This time the word was full of tenderness.

Donovan placed a hand over his heart. “I won’t let anything slip through the cracks, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, Cassandra?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You need to go somewhere where you can figure out tonight’s menu. You can’t do that in here.”

“Mom.” Cassie’s dad had joined the fray, and the look he gave Donovan was so flat it sent an unpleasant sensation crawling over Donovan’s skin. Very few people scared him. But this man did. Not because he expected John Quinn III to behave in anything other than a calm manner. But because that look told Donovan that Cassie’s father had classified Donovan as a man who could not be trusted with his daughter. “Cassie’s an adult. She can figure this out.”

“Of course she can, John. I never said she couldn’t. I said she needed some space and that we will handle the cleanup.”

Cassie’s dad turned his full focus on Donovan. “Is there any reason Cassie needs to be here?”

“No, sir.” Donovan kept his tone professional and respectful. “She needs to be nearby in case we have questions, and under no circumstances should she be alone.”

Cassie’s eyes flashed, and she hissed out a low “Traitor.”

“Oh, she won’t be.” John Quinn pulled Cassie against his side.

Cassie had told him she was a daddy’s girl. But while he’d spent some time with her grandparents, and even her great-grandparents, he hadn’t had much opportunity to see her interacting with her immediate family while they’d been dating. Her parents had been away for ten weeks visiting with missionaries who were supported by their church. When they returned home, he’d already known he had to end his relationship with Cassie, so he’d managed to avoid the handful of invitations to attend family gatherings.

John Quinn gave him a nod and pulled Cassie away, toward the opposite side of the restaurant, in a not-at-all subtle move to remove her from Donovan’s space. If he did manage to get Cassie back, restoring himself to the good graces of the extended Quinn family would require a deft hand. And patience.

He spent another hour in the kitchen and dining areas of Hideaway. He talked to cleaning staff. He talked to servers, and he talked to cooks.

And then Amos Cartwright walked in the door.

“What on earth is going on?” Amos wasn’t tall, but he was a solid guy, and the thought of him waving a knife anywhere near Cassie’s skin made Donovan wish he could arrest him on the basis of being an overbearing jerk and nothing more. But the man, for all his size and volume, stood frozen in the space—and unless he had an acting background no one was aware of, simply could not make his mind process what had happened.

“Mr. Cartwright?” Donovan approached him. “Could we speak over here?” He pointed toward the dining area. He’d appropriated a few tables where he could interview the staff.

Amos gave Donovan a once-over. His gaze lingered briefly on the gun, and the badge. Then he met Donovan’s gaze. “Where’s Cassie? She should be here.”

Donovan couldn’t tell if he meant that in a hostile way, or if he was concerned for her.

“She’s been here. She’s currently in the breakfast kitchen trying to figure out how she’s going to make dinner work tonight.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“You can talk to her after you talk to me.” Donovan sunk all his authority into those words.

“What happened?” Amos asked.

“We’re still not sure.”

Amos took a few steps toward the dining area, then caught sight of the refrigerator. “Why would anyone do this?”

“We don’t know.” Donovan pointed to the doors again. “Come on. Let’s talk.”

The big man deflated with each step, and by the time he reached the table, he sank into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. “We don’t need this. Not this weekend. There’s so much to do. I need to talk to Cassie.”

Donovan didn’t want to take this guy off his suspect list. But Amos was sure making a compelling case for Cassie’s assertion that he would never do anything to harm the kitchen.

“Let’s talk about Cassie for a minute.”

Amos’s face was infused with what looked a lot like shame. “I bet she named me as her prime suspect.”

“Actually, she said she didn’t think it was you.”

Amos lowered his hands and his voice. “But you do, don’t you?”

“I’m undecided. Why would Cassie assume it was you?”

“Because I’m a jerk. And I’ve made every day difficult for her. And I’ve done it on purpose.”

Donovan had a lot of questions, but if this guy was willing to talk, he decided to go with the simplest one. “Why?”

“Why?” Amos waved a hand around the room. “This is practically my home. I’ve worked here for years. Sous-chef to Chef Louis. We’ve collaborated on menus and he’s let me experiment with dishes. He’s my mentor. And this place ... I don’t have children. Or a spouse. I have Hideaway.”

That didn’t sound depressing at all.

“When Louis had his heart attack, I assumed I would step in. I know everyone thinks I do, but I don’t want the job full-time. I have ... issues. I don’t need the pressure of being the head chef. But I could have managed it while he recovers.”

He ran a shaky hand over his chin. “But instead there’s this little girl. She’s barely out of culinary school.”

Donovan didn’t point out that she’d been out of school for over five years and had an impressive list of restaurants on her résumé.

“She’s cute and perky and the polar opposite of Chef Louis. Have you met him?”

“Briefly. Once.”

“Well, he’s a grump. He has a heart of gold, but he’s a little salty. And he runs the kitchen a certain way.”

“And Cassie runs it a different way?”

“So different! Some days I can barely stand it!”

Donovan made a note to ask Cassie and Bronwyn how often Hideaway staff were drug tested. He didn’t think Amos was high. But there was something going on with him.