Taste of Tara Read online

  Tara shook her head. “Worthless is not a word I’d use to describe you. You befriend homeless vets and rescue stupid girls. Are you sure you don’t have a superhero cape hidden beneath your shirt?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t. Those things are too bulky and you never know when they’ll get tangled up in something.” He smirked and tapped his chest with his index finger. “Instead, I rely on my invisible super suit.”

  She laughed. “Honestly, I owe you big time for helping me out back there, especially since I’m a complete stranger.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about complete stranger, but it’s nice to finally meet you, Tara Tarleton. Welcome to Atlanta.” Brett pushed a plate of golden fried hushpuppies he’d ordered her direction. “You’ve seen some of the worst the city has to offer. How about I give you a taste of some of the best?”

  “I’d like that.” Tara smiled and lifted one of the hushpuppies, taking a bite. As she did, a little puff of steam escaped, floating into the air. “Oh, my gosh! That is so good. Now this is the Atlanta I’ve been dreaming about — great food, great atmosphere, and great company.”

  “Why, thank you, ma’am,” Brett tipped his head as he affected a thick southern accent, making her laugh again.

  Authentic southern food and dining with a handsome stranger were two items she could now check off her life experience list.

  Chapter Four

  Brett Cutler had glanced up from talking with Gerald and thought perhaps he was seeing things. The new pastry chef from Magnolia Rose ran toward him with two big scary-looking men right behind her.

  The panicked look on her face drew out a primitive, cavedweller response in him to pummel the thugs while keeping her safe and protected.

  Instinctively, he reached out to her and experienced a sense of relief when she took his hand.

  The men gave him a disgruntled look then turned around and left. Brett would like to think his broad shoulders and height gave him an intimidating presence, but he had an idea it was more likely the pistol Gerald carried that sent them on their way.

  Regardless, he was glad the pretty girl was unharmed, even if she did seem a bit rattled.

  The first day he’d seen her walking outside at the plantation, he’d stopped to study her. Rich, black hair swished and swayed in a ponytail at the back of her head. Smooth, pale skin and a lively spark in her eyes put him in mind of a woman who might have wandered around the plantation back when it was newly built. However, he was sure none of the women who lived there in generations past had shared this girl’s height. She stood as tall as many men.

  Through his years of working with Wade and Ashley Fontaine during their living history events, he’d made it a strict rule not to fraternize with the hired help. But seeing the dark-haired chef made him consider revising his personal decree. Something about her sparked with life and fun, and an aura of naivety that he found both endearing and enthralling.

  When he’d realized it was her racing toward him, he was glad he’d stayed longer with Gerald than he planned. He’d taken the old fellow to church and had tried to convince the man to go out for lunch, but Gerald decided he wanted to go home. Brett stayed long enough to take out the trash, wash the sink full of dishes, and then fix a broken shelf in the bathroom. All the while, Gerald complained that he didn’t want Brett doing his work for him. In spite of his gruff words, Brett knew his friend was relieved when he did things around the house. It seemed like each time he visited, it got harder and harder for Gerald to get around, especially since arthritis had settled in his hands.

  At any rate, he sent up a prayer of thanks he’d been in the right place at the right time to help Tara today. As he sat across from her at a table in one of his favorite restaurants, he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

  Each time she blushed, it looked like delicate flowers blossomed on her cheeks and he fought down the urge to brush his thumbs over her creamy skin. A smattering of freckles across her nose gave her an almost impish quality, especially when she smiled. That incredible smile drew his gaze to a pair of lips that practically begged to be kissed.

  Fascinated with her, he studied her dark hair, pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. His gaze moved down to dark eyebrows arched above expressive eyes that embodied all he loved most about spring in their lush, bright green depths.

  Dark eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks when she looked down at her plate then fanned back up when she glanced at him. Utterly mesmerized, he wondered if she had any idea how hypnotic he found such a simple, innocent move.

  He took in the long, graceful lines of her neck, her slender shoulders, and decided he might not make it through the meal if he continued categorizing her features one by one.

  Tara Tarleton. Even her name spiked his interest. It sounded southern and sweet, and a little seductive.

  Hastily pulling his thoughts back together, he watched as she took a bite of fried okra and appeared to settle into a state of bliss.

  “Where are you from, Miss Tarleton?” he asked. A change of subject, at least from the topics banging around in his head, needed to happen immediately before he embarrassed himself by leaning across the table and kissing her.

  She wiped her mouth with her napkin and smiled at him. “Please, call me Tara. I was born and raised in the Portland, Oregon area. My best friend and I are so bold and adventurous…” she offered him a self-deprecating look “…the summer after we graduated from high school we moved into an apartment three miles from the house where I grew up and five miles from where Ellen’s parents live.”

  An easy smile lifted the corners of his mouth upward. “Don’t feel bad. I grew up here and came back after I experienced a little more of the world than I wanted. I live half a mile from my folks.”

  One of those dark eyebrows cocked upward. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.” She smiled and took another bite of okra. “Have you known Wade and Ashley long?”

  He nodded. “Since they bought the place a dozen or so years ago.” Brett took a bite of his pulled pork sandwich then pointed at a cup of Brunswick stew. “Want a taste?”

  She lifted the spoon next to her plate and sampled his stew. “That is delicious.”

  When she licked off her spoon, Brett absently wondered when the atmosphere in the restaurant had turned tropical. The sudden swell in temperature made him want to pour his glass of ice water over his head to cool the unexplained heat searing through his veins.

  Unaware of his discomfort, Tara tasted her cheesy grits, nodding in approval. “Gosh, you can’t get stuff like that back home. Most of the people I know have no idea about grits.” She took another bite then picked up the thread of their conversation. “Wade and Ashley seem so young to have done so much with the place. It’s very admirable.”

  “It is,” Brett agreed. “Wade comes from old money and Ashley made a small fortune with a blog she writes about fashion and décor, so they had the time and finances to invest in a complete restoration. I’m really glad they did. That place was destined for the rubble pile until they came along and purchased it. Now, it’s one of the prettiest places in the state.”

  Tara listened as she cut into a piece of barbecued chicken and took a bite. “And you’ve worked for them all these years?”

  Brett shook his head. “No. I’ve only done the living history events with them. I sometimes help with their Christmas gathering, and that’s only been for the last five years or so.”

  Tara gave him a curious look. “What do you do the rest of the year?”

  “This and that,” he said, not quite ready to reveal everything to her. Not yet.

  “This and that, hmm? That’s a perfectly vague response,” she teased. “Do this or that have names?”

  Brett smirked. “Maybe. If you’d like to join me next Sunday afternoon, I might introduce you.”

  She laughed. “I’d love to. I’ve not yet met a This or That, and could hardly pass up the opportunity to do so.”

  T
hey ate a few bites then Brett tossed her a puzzled look. “How does a girl from Portland end up with such a southern sounding name?”

  Tara giggled and leaned forward, as though she prepared to share a big secret. “My mother is a Gone With the Wind fanatic.”

  At his surprised appearance, she dipped one eyebrow and took on a serious expression. “Honest, it’s true. I would not kid you about such a serious topic. My grandmother started it. She named all three of her girls after characters in the book. My mother is Melanie. Then there’s Aunt India and Aunt Honey. It’s a good thing my father’s name is John Tarleton, both names from the story, or Mom might not have married him. She named me Tara Scarlett, and my brother is John Peter, but I call him Pete.”

  A deep laugh rolled out of him. “And what about you? Are you a Gone With the Wind fan, too?”

  “Absolutely. In fact, I was shocked the first time I visited Magnolia Rose by how much it resembles Tara in the movies. Ashley is so sweet. She put me in the Tara room. It looks just like Scarlett’s bedroom. I can lie in bed and stare up at the lacy canopy and pretend there is a bevy of boys just waiting for me to come outside and grace them with my charming self.”

  Brett laughed again. “You are something else, Miss Tara Tarleton. With that beautiful smile and those green eyes, perhaps you are more of a Scarlett than a Tara.”

  At her contented look, he continued. “What brought you all the way to the South, though? Why Magnolia Rose and Atlanta? I’ve tasted some of the pastries and desserts you’ve made. They are incredible. Those cookies with the berries and nuts you made yesterday were so good. What drew you here instead of somewhere, say, like New York or Paris?”

  Tara toyed with her chicken then turned her verdant gaze to his. “I know it’s silly, but I’ve always, always wanted to visit the South. When I saw Ashley’s ad looking for a pastry chef to spend a month on a plantation I knew I had to apply for the job. This…” Tara waved a hand in the air that encompassed not just the restaurant but the whole experience “…is a dream come true.”

  Brett nodded his head. “Dreams are important things,” he said, wondering if it was possible to fall in love five minutes after meeting a person. He’d never been one given to such ludicrous thoughts, but he could picture himself fifty years from now sitting in a restaurant with a white-haired Tara, still finding her absolutely captivating despite the changes age would surely bring. Right then, he began dreaming of what it would be like to settle down, to marry a sweet girl who made him smile just by the joy she found in eating simple, good food.

  It was crazy, wasn’t it, to consider his whole future entwined with a girl he’d only just met? If he mentioned it to his mother, she’d haul out the scrapbook of wedding ideas she’d started when she was pregnant with him, convinced he’d be a girl, and start planning an event the likes of which no one would want to see. Despite her keen disappointment that he’d been a boy and no other children joined their family, she was a wonderful mother — one he loved very much. Just not enough to tell her he thought he may have met the girl. Not any girl, but the one who made him feel, made him want, made him wish.

  Just for a moment, Brett let his thoughts wander back to his younger days. He couldn’t wait to leave Atlanta and venture out to experience life. As soon as he graduated from high school, he moved to New York, not certain what he wanted to do with his life. All he knew is that he wanted to do it somewhere other than Atlanta. He’d met Suellen the first day of classes and thought he’d fallen in love. For two long years, he dated the girl, convinced he’d met his soul mate. He eventually realized Suellen was a very good actress who only wanted access to his wealth and didn’t care a whit about his heart.

  He’d left New York, finished his degree in Atlanta, and resolved himself to spending his life alone because he refused to allow any female past the wall he’d built around his heart.

  Yet, as he sat across from Tara, he could almost feel that wall crumbling into a pile of rubble while a myriad of emotions suddenly raged through him. Pleased his heart hadn’t turned to stone, he rubbed his chest, mindful of a slight ache there as he thought about Tara leaving.

  She said she was only in Atlanta for a month, just long enough to see the Fontaine’s guests through the living history event. Then she’d return home to Portland. Brett wasn’t sure his life or his heart would ever be the same.

  When he managed to pull his thoughts back to the moment, Tara was eying his untouched stew. He slid the cup toward her. “Help yourself.”

  She picked up her spoon and dipped it back into the bowl. “I definitely need to get this recipe. It’s wonderful. Do they ever share their recipes? Those hushpuppies were fantastic, too.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying your lunch.” Brett took the last bite of his sandwich then leaned back in his chair. “Have you had much opportunity to explore since you’ve been here? Other than getting lost in a neighborhood I wouldn’t recommend visiting again.”

  She shook her head and wiped her lips with a napkin. “No. Today is the first day I’ve been to town since I arrived. I didn’t rent a car, knowing I’d spend most of my time at Magnolia Rose.” She shrugged. “As for getting lost, I went to a beautiful park, one that had oodles of walking paths and loads of fragrant flowers.”

  “I know the one you mean. It has a lot of benches for people watching.”

  “Yes, that’s the one.” Tara leaned forward slightly. “I guess I was a little disoriented and left the park on a different side than where I entered. I just assumed I could walk around the block and be back where I started, but I was so turned around, I’m not sure what happened. I found myself walking down that dark, dank street and you know the rest of the story.”

  He reached out and captured the hand she’d left on the table with his. In spite of the warmth and humidity of the day, her hand felt cool against his skin. Cool and light — and so inexplicably right. A jolt raced up his arm at the contact. By the shocked look on Tara’s face, he couldn’t help but hope she experienced something similar.

  “I’m really glad I was at Uncle Gerald’s place today,” he said, giving her hand a little squeeze before releasing it. If he continued to hold it in his, the next thing he knew, he’d be pulling her forward so he could take a taste of Tara and those sweet lips of hers.

  “I’m glad you were there, too. Thank you so much for helping me, Brett. I appreciate you more than you can know.” Tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I won’t be stupid enough to explore on my own like that again, or get lost somewhere I shouldn’t be. You can count on that.”

  “Good. I’m not sure I could handle the horses and worry about you coming to harm in town all at the same time,” he teased.

  When they finished their meal, Brett asked if she wanted dessert, but she shook her head. “I’m stuffed, but thank you for the offer.”

  The server brought their bill and Tara grabbed it before Brett had a chance.

  “Hand that over here.” He waggled his hand at her, expecting her to comply.

  “I won’t do any such thing. You saved my bacon, so the least I can do is pay for your pulled pork.” She grinned and fished around in her purse for her wallet.

  Brett might be many things, but a modern, new age man wasn’t it. Old-fashioned right down to the very core of his being, there was no way he’d let a woman pay for his meal. Even if she looked adorable as she bit her lip while she searched through her cavernous shoulder bag.

  “I’ve got this, Tara. It’s my pleasure to buy lunch for a pretty girl. It doesn’t happen often, so let me enjoy the opportunity.”

  She stopped digging and gave him an incredulous glare. “You are joking with me.”

  He shook his head. “I never joke about buying lunch, especially for pretty girls.” Before she could locate her wallet, he handed the server his credit card.

  Tara sank back against her chair and stared at him. “If you want to convince me you don’t have girls swarming after you all the time, you�
�re going to have to work harder at it.”

  He glanced to each side of their table and behind him. “No swarms here,” he said then winked at her. “I’m just an ol’ farm boy that these city girls could care less about.”

  “I don’t buy that for a minute, Brett Cutler. Not a single one. A man with your looks and charisma probably has a different girl lined up for every day of the week and at least two to see on Sunday.” Tara glanced at her watch. “In fact, I probably caught you between dates, so I better get going.”

  Brett chuckled. “You are a nut, Miss Tara Tarleton, and I’ll admit I kind of like it. To respond to your entirely false and rather outlandish claims, I do not have a different girl I see every day of the week or two on Sunday. I’m too busy with work for that kind of foolishness even if I was that kind of boy, which I assure you I’m not. If you don’t believe me you can ask my mother next Sunday when you meet This and That.”

  “I certainly will get her opinion on the matter,” she said, gathering her things as Brett signed the receipt and slipped his credit card inside his wallet.

  “Would you like a ride back to the plantation?” he asked as they stepped outside into the warm spring sunshine. The air smelled of barbecued meat blended with fragrant blossoms from the magnolia trees lining the street. As he kept step with Tara, a scent of something fresh, like ocean breezes with a hint of something citrusy, drifted to his nose, enticing his senses.

  He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her back or meshing their fingers together as they walked toward his pickup.

  “I don’t want to be a bother,” Tara said, taking in the sights around. “It will be time to meet the others back at the car in another hour or so, anyway.”