Page 1 of Call It Unexpected

Chapter 1

Emalee

I was seriously goingto die.

“I…have…to stop.”

If this is what it took to lose the extra calories I’d gained lately, I’d rather quit eating.

My calves burned, and my chest compressed so hard I thought for sure I’d throw up my pounding heart. I dragged to a halt, collapsed, and sprawled dramatically on the ground.

The last thing I needed was to drop dead in such an undignified manner on the prestigious campus of Edonton University, where my cousin attended. I already looked out of place wearing a pair of loose athletic shorts that were part of my high school gym class gear and a faded strawberry festival shirt. The other girls who were out exercising wore tight, colorful leggings and matching sports bras, showing their toned stomachs.

“I said…I wanted…to get in better shape, not practice… for a marathon.”

Bristol turned around and laughed as she continued to jog in place. “We’ve barely done two miles. We’ve got three more to go.”

Was she serious?

“You,” I gasped, pointing a finger at my cousin before my arm flopped back to the ground, “are a monster. What have I ever done to you?”

Her hands leaped to her hips. “You’ve caused me to gain five pounds since you moved in, that’s what.”

Ignoring the sweat dripping into my eyes, I glared back at her. “Then stop eating my homework!”

“I can’t help it.”

“Not my fault.”

“Brat.”

“Whiner.”

We both burst into giggles, which did nothing to ease the stitch in my side. Bristol gave up her movement and plopped to the ground, stretching out her lithe frame beside mine, crossing her hands behind her head. She nudged my ankle with her toes. “You don’t have to cook for us every night, you know.”

I knew. But cooking meals for Bristol and her dad seemed like an easy way to pay them back for giving me free room and board, especially when Uncle Brock insisted on paying for the food.

I’d worked right out of high school and saved almost all my money to go to culinary school, but even with my savings and a scholarship, my mom had to scrimp to pay the rest of the tuition. But she supported my dream of learning to be a chef, skills I would bring back to our family’s bed-and-breakfast.

Bristol and her family were my distant relatives; our great grandfathers had been brothers and had been descendants of one of the founding families in Sterling Mill, Tennessee. Rather than getting caught up in how many times removed or figuring out the number of generations separating us, we simply considered ourselves cousins. However, in reality, she and her older twin siblings were more like the brother and sister I’d never had.

Bristol’s side of the family had grown and retained property and businesses over the generations, whereas somewhere my family had fallen on harder times, and no matter how hard we tried, we could never get very far ahead. I was hoping to change that. I had ideas I couldn’t wait to try if only I could talk my mom into them. In the meantime, I used Bristol and Uncle Brock as my tasting guinea pigs.

“I enjoy it, plus it gives me good practice.”

“You’ll be a hit when you return to The Dogtrot. Everyone is going to want to eat there, not just guests.”

“That would be nice.”

At least, Ithoughtso. My mom and I ran The Dogtrot, our family’s bed-and-breakfast in downtown Sterling Mill. Generations ago, it had started as a family home when my ancestors settled in The Smokey Mountains, but they converted it when the family fell on hard times.

I loved the mountains and the quaint but friendly town where I’d been born. I adored our quirky traditions and how families knew and looked out for each other. I didn’t know any different, having lived there my whole life. Other than school field trips or our one family vacation before my father died, I hadn’t seen much beyond my mountain home.

Being here in Charlotte, away from home for the first time, I began to wonder what else I could do other than take over the bed-and-breakfast someday. I wanted cooking experiences outside of the inn’s kitchen.

“You don’t sound so sure.” I should have known my cousin would catch the doubt in my voice.

“Sometimes…” I had a hard time giving a voice to my thoughts. It felt like a betrayal of everything I’d come from.

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