A Sweet Mess Read online

  Aubrey walked into her suite and shut the door behind her, allowing her panic to rush through her. Landon’s cool, detached demeanor left her baffled and oddly disappointed. Maybe she’d imagined his burst of temper. More than anything, her yearning for the man scared the bejesus out of her. Blood rushed to her head, and her heart beat out an ominous march. She couldn’t stay here.

  Would he notice if I sneaked out right now? She could steal his Alfa Romeo and make a run for it. Brilliant. Then, she could spend the night in the slammer with some interesting cellmates. They would probably turn out to be nice, ordinary people. Grr.

  She was stuck. Stuck in a beautiful villa in a ridiculously romantic vineyard with a steaming hunk of man-beef. Her stomach growled loudly, and Aubrey rolled her eyes. I didn’t mean literal beef, you brainless organ. But another, much more insistent brainless organ told her there was no way in hell she was going to keep her hands to herself. The most disturbing part was she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to.

  Aubrey pushed herself off the door and walked farther into the room. She ran her fingertips over the Egyptian cotton bedding and thought of the four-post canopy bed she’d had as a little girl. She grew up surrounded by gratuitous opulence. Living in her cramped two-bedroom rental showed her how much she’d taken for granted. She sometimes missed the luxuries she’d left behind, but freedom was too high a price to pay for marble floors and crystal chandeliers.

  When her paternal grandmother was alive, her father ran the family’s upscale Korean markets from the corporate office. She had lovely memories of her early childhood. Her hal-muh-nee lived with them, and they were a close-knit family. Her parents were affectionate and always full of laughter. Aubrey was their only child, and she was adored by her parents and grandma.

  It was when her grandmother passed away that things began to change. Her father worked longer and longer hours, and she sometimes wouldn’t see him for days. But whatever he was doing, he was successful at it because they soon moved into what felt like a fairy-tale mansion. Aubrey loved the princess dresses and the elaborate parties she attended with her parents.

  But gradually, her parents’ angry, raised voices invaded her room night after night, and the laughter faded from their home. As she grew older, she stopped going to the parties. The dresses felt more like uniforms, and the parties were performances she didn’t feel prepared for. Her father didn’t seem to care whether she went or not. He grew aloof and distant, and her mom faded away. In the fog of their unhappiness, Aubrey grew invisible and was forgotten.

  But that was all in her past. Aubrey left home to pursue her own life and never looked back. And she planned to do everything in her power to keep her dream alive.

  She washed her hands and face in the bathroom, which was bigger than her bedroom in Weldon, and used a soft, thick towel to dry off. After hesitating for a second, she grabbed her lip gloss from her purse and quickly dabbed some on before going downstairs. When she walked into the spacious gourmet kitchen, she was surprised to find Lucien gone and Landon busy at the stove. Her heart fluttered.

  It was just the two of them.

  * * *

  “Lucien’s cellar has better wine than most restaurants, but the man thinks eggs and cheese are the only relevant food components.” Landon beckoned Aubrey to take a seat when she hesitated at the entrance. “We could go to the market tomorrow, if you’d like. But for tonight, I hope you’re okay with a cheese omelet.”

  “As long as you’re cooking. Eggs are so obedient when I’m baking, but they turn on me when I try to cook them any other way.” She hopped onto a stool by the island. “Besides, we wouldn’t want your CIA degree to go to waste.”

  “God forbid.” He chuckled under his breath.

  “So are you and Lucien close?”

  “We were.” Landon huffed through his nose.

  He chopped the shallots with more force than necessary. He and Aubrey weren’t roommates by accident. It stank of Aria’s signature meddling. Her pretty excuse about kitchen-sharing was bullshit. He could’ve made them a simple time chart, for fuck’s sake.

  Landon regretted telling Aria about his night in Weldon. He wanted to explain why he couldn’t have any further personal interaction with Aubrey. Perhaps Aria decided to ignore his logic because his voice betrayed his longing whenever he spoke about Aubrey. Whatever the case, she hadn’t wasted any time initiating her matchmaking scheme.

  The whole point was to fix his mistake, not add to it, and this setup was not helping. His plan had been to stay at Lucien’s place on the other side of the hill, but Aria had apparently highjacked his room. Lucien, of course, couldn’t refuse Aria anything, even if it meant throwing Landon to the wolves.

  When Aubrey cocked her head at him, he forced a smile. “We’ve been friends for years. Lucien owns Le Ciel vineyard and a winery in San Miguel. He recently had this villa built to use as a luxury bed-and-breakfast and an additional tasting room in Bosque Verde. When I mentioned you needed a place to stay with a full kitchen, he insisted you stay here.”

  “I wish I had friends who could lend me their fancy villas at the drop of a hat. I only get free beer.” She snorted at her own joke.

  “Free craft beer of the highest caliber. You have nothing to complain about.”

  “You’re right. Tara spoils me.” She sighed happily.

  He chopped chives, whisked up eggs, and flipped omelets like he’d been unchained. The joy. The freedom. It all flowed back to him. After a few minutes, he noticed the quiet stillness in the kitchen. Aubrey hadn’t stirred or spoken while he cooked.

  “Is that why you haven’t followed your dream and opened your own restaurant?” she murmured as though she was thinking out loud, her gaze far away.

  “Is what why?” Landon wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Her lashes fluttered, and she focused her brown eyes on him.

  “You didn’t want to turn something you love so much into the dreaded four-letter word—work.”

  Landon’s hands stilled at her words. Something you love so much. She saw so much of him in something as inconsequential as tossing together an omelet. He couldn’t decide whether he felt seen or exposed.

  “People say when something you enjoy becomes your full-time job, the joy gets sucked out of it.”

  “You may be onto something,” he said, avoiding her question.

  “Well, those people don’t know diddly-squat. Nothing could take away your love for cooking as long as you don’t lose sight of what’s important. Every time you cook, you have to remember you’re nourishing people. Making them happy.” She scrunched her nose as though searching for the right words. “If you cook for your customers with that in mind, then your love for cooking won’t be stifled. Work only becomes a vile word when your goals change to money or fame or whatever else the world entices you with.”

  Even family.

  He’d had to give up his dream—he’d had no other choice. Money and fame were never part of his goals, but life had stifled his love of cooking. He flinched as flickers of resentment against his family wove through his thoughts. No. His mother and Seth were not to blame for his choices. It was his decision, and he refused to regret it.

  “I’m completely humbled, Ms. Choi. You truly are full of wise, grown-up advice.” Hurt flashed in her eyes at his cynicism before she blinked it away. Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Aubrey winked with forced humor. “You’re learning, Grasshopper.”

  Her gentle teasing chastised him more effectively than a long lecture. Aubrey really was the grown-up between them. He opened his mouth to apologize for being a dick, but she wasn’t done with him.

  “Why did you stop cooking, Landon?” Her wide, calm eyes bored into his soul.

  “We, my family, immigrated to the States when I was three. My father wanted more for his family.” He swallowed, trying to hold his words back, but he couldn’t stop the truth from spilling over. “A few years later, my parents bought a small house with a backy
ard. It had a big, sturdy tree to one side where my dad hung a swing. I spent all day in that backyard, becoming permanently muddy and scruffy. Then my little brother came along, and my life was perfect.”

  “You had a beautiful childhood.” Aubrey waited for him to continue, wearing a wistful smile. She didn’t seem to mind that his response didn’t answer her question, and she realized he had more to say.

  Landon brought out a bottle of chilled chardonnay and raised it in question. Aubrey shook her head and pointed at her sparkling water. He poured himself a glass while he gathered his thoughts.

  “We had everything we needed, but my dad still wanted more. He dreamed up one scheme after another. ‘To hit it big,’ he’d say. Whatever he did, right or wrong, I hero-worshipped him. He was this strong, handsome man with faraway eyes and a booming voice filled with promises. I thought he made the world go around. My world, at least.” Landon twirled his wineglass and watched the pale, gold liquid spin into a micro tornado. “Of course, his plans never panned out. They just got more expensive and outrageous after each failed attempt. Still, I believed that he would set everything right.”

  “Oh, Landon.” She covered his hand with her own. Her sympathy washed over him like warm, tropical rain, improbably melting away layers of loss and guilt.

  “By the time I was in high school, I worked odd jobs at restaurants to help out. My mom was working herself to an early grave to provide for our family while my father spent every cent she managed to save.” The usual burn of betrayal and disappointed tore through him, but he felt stronger against it. Almost as though he could drown it out someday. “But I was lucky. I ended up falling in love with cooking. I worked as a line cook and moved up quickly, and then I created a food blog, writing about the chaos of a restaurant kitchen and the beautiful dishes born from its depth. I did well enough to give my mom a few hundred dollars a month and support myself through the CIA.”

  “Balancing all that must’ve been draining.” Her hand tightened around his.

  “It was worth it.” After everything, it had truly been worth it. The memory brought a fond smile to his face. “By the time I finished my degree, the stars lined up for me. My blog was doing well, and I was offered a sous chef position at David Ferrand’s restaurant in Oregon. It was a dream come true.”

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “My old man. He piled up debt as high as Kilimanjaro. Our house was mortgaged out, and with his latest bust, we were about to lose it. I couldn’t bear to watch the house being taken away from my mother. She loved that house. She talked about growing old in it and having me and my brother visit with our own families someday.” Landon found and held Aubrey’s gaze, letting her anchor him. “I searched for ways to keep the house, but I found out my dad had dug himself into a hole too deep to crawl out of. He knew it, too, so he took off and left us to clean up his mess.”

  “Your hero should never let you down so thoroughly. You must’ve been devastated. I’m so sorry, Landon.”

  “I couldn’t afford to feel sorry for myself. Mom and Seth needed me, so I did what had to be done. I refused Ferrand’s offer and sold my blog to the highest bidder. I made enough money to pay off my father’s debts and buy the house outright for my mom. That’s how I traded in my kitchen knife for a mighty pen.” His old wound seeped blood, and his voice came out a hoarse whisper. “I haven’t cooked since then. For anyone.”

  Except you. His unspoken confession rang out between them, but his emotions were too raw and muddled to face why.

  “Well, you have to make up for lost time.” Aubrey said with a tremulous smile. “My dinner, please, Chef.”

  “Coming right up,” he said as a boulder slid off his chest.

  Relief coursed through him, and a stupid grin took over his face. He didn’t understand his feelings, but at least he knew how to feed her. Because that’s what chefs do.

  9

  Since Landon walked into Weldon Brewery, Aubrey’s nights had been filled with vivid dreams of him, which left her spent. She’d all but forgotten what a good night’s sleep felt like. Well, it feels fan-freaking-tastic. She remembered her head touching the down pillow last night, and when she opened her eyes, it was morning. She’d gotten eight hours of dreamless sleep.

  “I just saw the most beautiful doe right outside my patio.” Aubrey strode into the kitchen and found Landon slouched over a steaming mug in the kitchen. He grunted and waved in the direction of a coffeepot. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  He glanced at her with bleary eyes and gulped down his coffee like it was tequila after a hard day. Aubrey shrugged and maneuvered toward the coffee, giving him a wide berth. Humming under her breath, she searched the cupboards for a nice, big mug. She was filled to the brim with optimism, and she was ready to tackle anything that came her way—including a grumpy Landon.

  “Do you really have time to chauffeur me around today?” Aubrey studied his hunched form. “More importantly, are you even capable of it? You can’t seem to hold a civilized conversation, much less drive a motorized vehicle.”

  “For the love of God, woman. It’s not even eight,” he grumbled. His eyes dropped back to his mug as though his outburst had taken too much out of him.

  Not a morning person, eh? In her giddy mood, she almost joked she’d made a narrow escape that night by sneaking out on him before he woke up. She stopped short, horrified at her own callousness. She hid her troubled expression under the awning of her lashes and silently chastised herself.

  “Damn it.” Landon raked his fingers through his hair. By the remorse on his face, he’d misread her expression and thought he’d hurt her feelings. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I promise to be better behaved once I finish my coffee.”

  “You’re fine.” She waved aside his apology, pouring herself a steaming mug of coffee and topping his off as well. “It’s gorgeous outside. Let’s drink our coffee on the porch.”

  Without further protests, Landon followed her outside and settled his six-foot-three-ish frame into a yellow-and-white chaise. Sinking into its twin, Aubrey sighed and soaked in the vast otherworldly hills spread out before them.

  Compared to the dense green mountains surrounding Weldon, these hills appeared stark and desolate. They sizzled under the unforgiving sun by day and shivered against the coastal winds by night. The resilient way the stringy trees and the waving fields of grass persevered commanded respect as much as the grapes they cultivated within their depths.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll bake some sweet buns for breakfast.” Eyes sliding shut, she inhaled the steam rising from her mug and then took a sip. “This coffee deserves some company.”

  “Does that mean you’ll wake up even earlier?”

  Ooh, a complete sentence.

  The caffeine seemed to be kicking in. He even managed a crooked smile.

  “Ha ha. I’ll do most of the prep work tonight so I can just pop them in the oven tomorrow morning. Wait and see. Even Oscar the Grouch would turn into Mr. Sunshine after some of my sweet buns.”

  “Are you always this humble?”

  Aubrey stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m proud of my family legacy. It’s my grandma’s recipe.”

  “Your grandma?” Landon’s gaze strayed to her lips as though waiting for another glimpse of her tongue.

  Without conscious thought, she wet her suddenly dry lips and watched his pupils swallow the brown of his eyes. Gah.

  “Mm-hmm.” She cleared her throat, unnerved by the charge in the air. “My grandma taught me everything I know about baking.”

  “Comfort Zone’s an amazing place. She must be proud of you.”

  His voice was a husky caress. Nervous energy fluttered through her, heat blossoming on her cheeks. Landon abruptly shifted his eyes to the horizon.

  “She would’ve been, I think. I couldn’t have opened Comfort Zone if it weren’t for her.”

  “How so?”

  “I used to travel a lot, too. Not as fancy as yours, bu
t I’d visit a country and live there for a few months working odd jobs until I saved up enough money to move on to a different place. It was wonderful, but exhausting. It got old after a few years, but I didn’t know how to come home.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said softly.

  A flutter of happiness tipped the corners of her mouth. Don’t ask why I’m happy about that. He mirrored her smile, and she forgot to breathe.

  “Well, I finally came back because my grandma got sick,” she continued, slightly out of breath. “In a lot of ways, I was closer to her than to my mom. I wanted to be by her side to send her off. When she passed away a few months later, she left me some money with a message.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “Oh, something very short, but profound. ‘Time to get baking, girlie!’”

  “Sounds like you had the world’s coolest grandmother.”

  “No doubt about it.”

  “Are you going to use the sweet bun recipe for the show?”

  “Hold your tongue, devil. Didn’t you hear me? It’s our family legacy. That one’s staying in my mind vault.” And no smooth-talking, executive producer was going to extract the sweet bun recipe from her. “I already have some other ideas for my new desserts. That’s why I wanted us to go wine tasting today. Mostly, ports and dessert wines. I have to make sure I can find the wines I imagined for the recipes.”

  She had a lot of work to do if she didn’t want to embarrass herself on national television. Aubrey pinched her bottom lip and squished it between her fingers. A nervous habit.

  “While the early bird may get the worms, there are no such advantages for humans when it comes to wine.” Landon gently drew her hand away from her mouth and gave it a squeeze. Some of her panic subsided at his quiet reassurance. “Most tasting rooms don’t open until 10:00 A.M. Let’s go get some breakfast. You’re going to need some food in your stomach to absorb all the alcohol you’ll be consuming today.”