One More Taste (14 page)

She afforded his offered hand only the slightest glance before turning away from him. “Likewise,” she tossed over her shoulder in an exaggerated Texas drawl as she strutted down the hall into the recesses of the spa.

“Your mom doesn't like me. Any idea why?” Knox said, curious about Haylie's take on the situation.

“Of course, she likes you. You're family. It's just that when she gets a couple martinis in her early, she's not herself.” If her mom's before-noon martini swilling bothered Haylie, she did an ace job of hiding it. “Now, come on. I have so much more to show you on the tour. Next up, my favorite secret place to eat lunch. Our amphitheater.”

As opposed to the spa or the catering kitchen, the shady, inviting amphitheater that was nestled against the southwest corner of the main resort building was humming with activity in preparation for a one-hundred-guest wedding that night, according to the resort's in-house wedding planner, whom they found on the amphitheater stage. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties and clearly knew how to command an amphitheater full of resort workers and wedding vendors. Knox approved of her immediately.

“Remedy Lane,” she said, extending her hand.

“It's great to meet you, Remedy,” Knox said, shaking her hand. “You've got yourself quite an operation here.”

Remedy stood tall, pride and competence shining in her eyes. “We get the job done.”

“I'll say. I'm discovering that weddings around here are a very big deal,” Knox said.

Haylie leaned in towards him. “They're our cash cow.”

Knox's analysis of the company's books had proven that to be true. The weddings at Briscoe Ranch had been the only thing keeping the place afloat. “How far out are you booking?”

Remedy nodded her agreement. “We're on target to break the resort record for number of weddings held here this year. Next year, as well.”

“You already have projections for next year? That's good,” Knox said.

“We're already booked solid for next year,” came Remedy's reply.

God, the untapped potential of this place. If he could retain the charm, he could quadruple the profits in half the time proposed to the private equity investors. “What do you think it is about Briscoe Ranch that makes it such a popular destination?”

Remedy's attention was momentarily snagged by two workers who were stringing white lights across the top of the theater. She called out a directive to them.

“Magic,” Haylie said to Knox, grinning broadly.

Remedy tore her focus from the workers. “Haylie's right. There's something magical about this place that makes people fall in love and stay in love forever. Especially if they get married at the resort during December.”

How could there be magic in a place so full of dark family history? He looked from Haylie to Remedy. “You're both serious?”

“I know what that sounds like. Crazy, huh?” Remedy said. “I was a skeptic at first, but now I'm the biggest believer in the magic of Briscoe Ranch. I'm getting married here in December.”

“To Dulcet's most eligible bachelor, if I do say so myself,” Haylie added. “Just like my Wendell was before we fell in love. And my sister met Decker here. And my parents met here, and my grandparents. Well, our grandparents, I guess. It's been a family tradition since Granny June and Tyson's wedding almost sixty years ago. Did your parents meet here?”

Knox searched his memory but drew a blank. “I don't think I know the answer to that. They got married here, though. But in November, not December like the family tradition.” Which was just as well. There was nothing particularly magical about his parents' utilitarian marriage, and neither of them had ever pretended there was, so it wasn't as though they sat around basking in their romantic days of yore.

They loved each other in their own ways, and even though they'd bickered a fair amount, his dad had always waved it off by telling Knox and his siblings that they were just two very different people trying to make it work, just like all people who married. Neither had liked to talk about their wedding, and the only memento of the occasion they'd kept was a framed photograph tucked on a bookshelf in the family room. In the photo, the two of them were standing together after the ceremony at the altar, dressed in their Sunday best and looking as solemn as dust bowl farmers.

After Remedy Lane had excused herself to get back to the wedding prep, Haylie turned to Knox. “I was thinking we'd swing through housekeeping headquarters so you could meet the Martinez ladies, Yessica and her daughter Skye. Their family has been working for the resort for more than thirty years, so they're practically family. And then I thought we'd head to the golf course to say hi to Wendell.”

Everywhere Knox went inside the resort and out on the grounds, he ran into members of the Briscoe tribe, as he was starting to think of the collection of Briscoes and people who'd worked at the resort for decades and were now more honorary family than employees. The property was starting to feel like a family commune as much as a tourist destination. “Everywhere we turn, we see someone you know. Is it always like this at Briscoe Ranch?”

Haylie beamed at him. “You bet. That was the fun of growing up here. It's like one big happy family.” Her face fell. “No offense, I mean.”

There it was again, the acrid taste of resentment creeping into his mouth. Briscoe Ranch Resort—one big happy family, except for the black sheep and his brood who would have starved in the streets, for all the rest of the Briscoe family cared. He fought against a scowl. “It's not your fault.”

The opening notes of a horn honking
La Cucaracha
echoed through the amphitheater, followed by the hollered words, “Blessed serendipity!” in a now-familiar voice. Of its own volition, a smile spread on Knox's face at the sight of Granny June, sitting on her motorized scooter at the top of the amphitheater as though she was a queen and it was her throne.

“Hey, there, Granny June!” Haylie called back. She and Knox started up the amphitheater stairs in her direction.

“Didn't expect to see you two out of the office,” Granny said. “I was just comin' to see if Remedy needed any decorating advice.”

She said it as a jest, but Knox had to wonder if there weren't a grain of truth in it. Poor Remedy.

“We're on a tour,” Haylie said. “I'm showing him all the good spots. But you've got great timing because we have a question. Did Knox's parents meet at the resort? He can't remember.”

As Haylie finished asking the question, Granny June had pulled her smartphone from her pocket and started scrolling. She didn't look up or acknowledge Haylie's question, so Haylie touched her shoulder and repeated it louder, as though Granny June were hard of hearing. Which Knox was fairly certain she wasn't.

Granny swallowed hard. She tore her attention from the phone, but wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. For the woman who'd spent an evening availing Knox of story after story of Briscoe family history, she sure seemed uncomfortable. “They did. Yes. Your mama used to come around the resort to see my boys. Lots of local girls did.”

His mom's oft-spoken refrain echoed through his mind,
Those Briscoe boys are charmers, always were.

Haylie clapped, seemingly oblivious to Granny June's discomfort with the line of questioning. “Then the Briscoe magic continues! Tell us everything about Clint and Linda's romance. I'm sure Knox wants to know, too.” She gently pushed Granny June's phone down and presented her with a well-practiced pout. “Don't make him wait and ask his mom.”

“There's not much else to say. Linda was a grade lower than Clint. They went steady for more than a year before getting married in October of her senior year.”

Haylie's eyes went wide. “When she was still in high school?”

Granny June stuck her nose in her phone again and scrolled through Facebook like her life depended on it. “It was a different era.”

Knox was against causing Granny June any more anguish by questioning her further, but the need for the truth compelled him onward. “I thought they got married in November.”

For a split second, Granny June seemed genuinely confused and panicked about it. After a series of rapid eye blinks, she seemed to regain her senses. “That must be it. Did I ever tell you that my memory's going? Maybe I did tell ya, and I can't remember. See what I mean?” She chuckled at her own joke and tapped her temple.

Knox gave her an indulgent smile. “I think that's enough of a walk down Memory Lane. Would you like to join us on the rest of our tour?”

Granny June sat back down in her motorized scooter and held the handles like she was getting ready to rev the engine, motorcycle style. “I'd be delighted. In fact, some folks around here consider me the ultimate tour guide. Did you know we've got the largest stable of horses south of Forth Worth?”

*   *   *

Emily was four hours into a whirlwind of a morning in her kitchen at the resort. New ideas for menus and meals for Knox were popping into her head so fast, she hardly had time to make note of them. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so inspired. The more she learned about Knox, the deeper into his mind she delved, the more brilliant her creativity became. And the bonus was that the busier in the kitchen she kept, the less she thought about him or the bevy of inappropriate feelings he'd reawakened in her.

The trouble was, every time she slowed down or closed her eyes, she saw him watching her from across the boat with dark, heated eyes. She felt his hand on her hip, holding her close. She felt the erratic beat of his heart beneath her palm. Compounding that, she genuinely liked being around him, which was perhaps the most dangerously sexy thing about him of all.

But instead of wasting her brain space obsessing over what could never be with someone as off-limits as her boss, she would have to train herself to admire his many attributes in the same way one might crush on a celebrity or a cute delivery guy—from a distance and in small doses. Until she'd retrained herself, the logical solution was to not slow down or close her eyes. Easy as pie.

Or, better yet, maybe she needed to do all of that plus start dating again. It'd been more than two years since a string of dates from hell had helped her decide once and for all that there were no men in Texas worth the time away from her career, her friends, and her peace of mind. She'd not only sworn off men, but makeup, expensive haircuts, pedicures, and shaving her legs more than once every couple of weeks. She was still on the pill, but only because it kept her periods short, pain-free, and predictable. The choice to do away with all the frivolity of dating had been a liberating decision, to say the least. Or, at least, it had felt empowering right up until her new boss arrived, with the hard-bodied, polished virility of an NFL quarterback, to remind her that, at her core, she was still a woman with needs.

But maybe if she kept the ground rules simple—nothing serious; just someone she was only mildly attracted to, someone she wouldn't be tempted to invest her heart in—it wouldn't take up too much of her time or energy. All she needed was a casual hook-up. Or two or three. She could get the physical connection she needed without the emotional or professional baggage. Between that and her work, she wouldn't have time to sleep, much less slow down enough to think inappropriate, lusty thoughts about her boss.

Her embarrassing
entice you
comment to Knox that morning while serving breakfast had only made her more restless to get started on the solution to her dilemma. And what better way to start than consulting her best friend? Both of their dating skills were pretty rusty, but perhaps Carina was in the know about what the latest, greatest dating website or app was. Humming gaily, and with an admittedly almost manic skip in her step, she set off over the resort grounds.

She found Carina in the third place she looked, sitting in the bottom row of bleachers adjacent to the equestrian arena, watching Decker exercise a large horse the color of milk chocolate mousse.

When Carina saw her, her face lit up with a broad smile and she strummed her fingers absentmindedly on her massive belly. “Hey, you got my text.”

Er, nope.
“I don't even know where my phone is, actually. Haven't seen it today. You know how I get when I'm in the zone.”

“I do. What I'd texted you about was that I'm getting the worst craving for your cheddar grits, but this time combined with that pickled shrimp and okra you made for the summer solstice cocktail reception last year. But this time, could you bread them and deep-fry them? Like, tempura style?”

Nasty. Then again, there was no accounting for a pregnant woman's taste and pickled shrimp had been a regular feature in Carina's cravings so far. “Sure. I can do that. Hey, listen. I decided something. I need to start dating again.”

Carina blinked at her. “Say that again?”

“I need to start dating. It's been way too long.”

Carina made cumbersome work of scooting her body around to face Emily head-on. “Let me get this straight. You're in the middle of the most important month of your life, trying to convince Knox to give you the restaurant, and you want to start dating—for the first time in years?”

“That's correct. The sooner, the better. Tonight after I'm done with Knox's dinner, if possible.”

“Are you familiar with the term
self-sabotage
?”

When Carina put it that way, the idea did seem self-sabotaging—but, then again, Carina hadn't been privy to the X-rated nature of Emily's imagination all week. Goddamn, she couldn't even think the word
X-rated
without her mind crowding with improper images. Knox rolling up his shirtsleeves. Knox pulling off his tie. Knox's muscles working while he rowed her across the lake in the moonlight. “Yeah, I need to get laid.”