Page 23 of Perfect Pairing
“Nothing…” I trailed off, mentally concocting an excuse to quickly get me out of this interrogation.
Naturally, I was too slow. In truth, I’d never been good at lying anyway.
“It’s cute that you still haven’t figured out how to lie,” Amara said, stepping closer to me, her golden eyes narrowed. “We all heard you and that hot chef make plans to cook together today.”
“He’s not hot,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Amara barked out a laugh. “Please, sissy. You’ve been drooling over the man since you laid eyes on him yesterday. Now, you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
Damn my sisters and their persistence and stubbornness. Short of attempting to make a break for the door, there was no getting out of this.
Plus, she was faster than me.
Dragging my feet, I followed her into the kitchen and toward the not-so-little breakfast nook tucked into the bay window overlooking the water off the point of Old Mission.
Up until this past summer, Mom and Dad had lived much closer to the winery, in the home we affectionately referred to as the Villa. My sisters and I had spent a lot of time in that house growing up, especially the summers, when we’d close up the house in Traverse City to spend our time on the peninsula, running around and wreaking havoc. Now, my parents lived in this monstrosity—honestly, what did two near-retirees with five children who no longer lived at home need so much space for? But it worked well when all of us were here, when there was a guest room for each of us, a massive dining room where we had holiday meals, and a living room with soaring ceilings currently decorated within an inch of its life, the tree the sort of thing you’d find at Campus Martius in Detroit.
While I was still getting used to the change of scenery, I couldn’t deny the view was breathtaking. I’d never tire of living on the water, and I loved this slice of paradise so much, it really was a no-brainer for me to come home once my apprenticeship was done.
By the time Amara set a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of me, the rest of our sisters had padded into the room and joined me at the table.
“Why do you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios?” Delia asked me.
“I was on my way out, but Mar forced me into this little family bonding moment.”
Each of my sisters scoffed. “Please, little one,” Chloe said, tapping my nose. “You love us.”
I sighed heavily. I hated being called ‘little one’ about as much as I hated being called ‘Baker Brie.’ Those were childhood nicknames, and I was a grown woman now.
“What I love,” I said sharply, giving myself over to the temper that rarely plagued me but could be destructive nonetheless, “is being treated like an adult.” I narrowed my gaze on Amara. “And that means leaving the house without having to sit down and spill my guts all over the table. I don’t owe any of you an explanation.”
I rose quickly, stalking out of the room and out of the house, not stopping until I reached my car. The late-December air cooled the fire licking at my veins, and by the time I pulled out of the driveway onto the main road to the winery, I’d calmed significantly.
Had I overreacted? Absolutely.
But…my god. I was twenty-two. I wasn’t a child, and I hated when my sisters ganged up on me like that, acting like I was some helpless little girl who couldn’t live without their guidance.
I rarely allowed my temper to get the better of me, but things had been shifting for me lately. First was finishing my culinary arts programs. Graduating college was a rite of passage for a lot of people, and it was certainly a crowning achievement of mine to that point. Then, being selected to apprentice with Bryce was a major eye-opening moment for me. It was proof Icoulddo things on my own, that I was fully capable of living my own life and being my own person without my family looking over my shoulder, directing my every move.
I wanted to return to Apple Blossom Bay when my time in Chicago ended, but not if my family couldn’t treat me like the woman I was instead of the little girl I’d been.
Though my temper had mostly fizzled out, I was worked up for a whole new reason by the time I pulled into the lot of the Chateau and turned off my car. A midsize SUV I had to assume belonged to Ezra was the only other vehicle in the lot. We hadn’t set a specific time, and I’d been hoping to beat him here, if only to have the upper hand. With that out the window, I took a fortifying breath and shuffled inside.
Snow was beginning to fall, dusting the ground under my feet with a layer of delicate flakes. They caught on my hair and my eyelashes, and I paused for a moment to tip my head to the sky, sticking my tongue out to catch a few like I did when I was a child.
When I unlocked the lobby door and pushed into the foyer, music greeted my ears.
Def Leppard blasted as loud as the sound system would go, and I couldn’t help grinning. With “Rock of Ages” practically rattling the mortar that set the bricks of the foundation, Ezra didn’t hear me approach, so I took a moment to stand in the doorway and study him. His long sleeve thermal shirt was rolled up to his elbows, showing off sinewy forearms. A towel was slung over his shoulder, and he occasionally wiped his hands as he moved between the island and the stove. The scent of tomatoes wafted through the air, and a deeper inhale had me identifying other ingredients. Basil and freshly baked bread were the strongest, but something else I couldn’t quite name lingered as well.
Moving deeper into the room, I grabbed the remote that controlled the speakers and lowered the volume.
Ezra whirled on me, hand to his chest.
“My god, Brie,” he said, breathing heavily. “You can’t sneak up on an old man like that.”
I raised a brow. “Old man? You can’t be more than thirty.”
He dropped his hand and grinned. “You’re good.”
