Taste of Tara Page 8

  Inspired, he’d sent her a text after he dropped her off that night and asked if she’d meet him for a sunrise surprise.

  Her affirmative reply sent him scrambling to make plans. Quickly contacting a friend, he got permission to take Tara out to a hilltop on the man’s property to see the sunrise.

  His friend laughed when Brett told him the reason behind the request. “Sunrise with a pretty girl. Can’t get much better than that,” the friend said. Brett had to agree.

  Well before daylight the following morning, he was already on his way into Atlanta. After swinging by his favorite doughnut shop, he drove back to Magnolia Rose and stopped outside the back door. Before he could get out of the truck, the door opened and Tara ran down the porch steps.

  “I feel like I’m about to play hooky from school,” she said, greeting him with a kiss to the cheek in the muted light. “I have to be back by eight, though. Pastries wait for no man, woman, or starving teen.”

  Brett chuckled and opened the passenger door, giving her a hand inside. Within ten minutes, he’d parked his truck on top of the hill so they could watch the sun climb over the city skyline. Tara sipped her coffee and savored a coconut-topped chocolate doughnut as they waited for the first fingers of golden light to infuse the morning sky.

  When it did, she set down the coffee, forgot about the box of doughnuts on her lap, and gaped out the window.

  “Oh, wow!” she whispered, as though speaking louder would disrupt the beauty of the moment.

  Rather than watch the sunrise, Brett found his gaze firmly fixed on her. If he couldn’t convince Tara to stay in Atlanta, he was going to have to figure out what he could do in Portland, because being separated from her wasn’t an option he wanted to consider.

  Brett grinned. “Well?”

  She turned her head, resting it against the passenger side of his truck seat, and smiled. The shimmer of something that looked a lot like affection glimmered in her eyes in the early morning light streaming inside the cab. What he saw, what he hoped was about to blossom into something more, smacked him square in the chest. The weight of it hit with such force, he sucked in a painful breath.

  “It’s amazing, Brett. Truly,” Tara said, reaching across the seat to squeeze his hand. “The view is incredible and these doughnuts are delicious. They’re even lighter than mine.” She tossed him a flirty grin. “The company isn’t half bad either.”

  “Is that so, sassy britches? You better behave or I’ll take back those doughnuts.” He started to reach for the box on her lap.

  She snatched it up with both hands and lifted it out of his reach. “Now that’s just mean. I didn’t take you for a tease, Brett Cutler, but giving a girl mouth-watering doughnuts, then threatening to take them away? That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

  He feigned a subdued look then lunged for her, pulling her across the seat toward him, tickling her sides. She squirmed and almost dropped the doughnuts then set them on the dash. “Brett! You are such a…” He tickled her again, cutting off whatever she planned to say.

  “A great guy? Aw, gee, thanks.” He grinned at her. “Or is it a handsome devil? I think I like that one even better.” He snatched the box off the dash and bit into a soft, maple-glazed treat.

  Tara sat up, tugging down her shirt that had twisted around to the side as he tickled her. When she glanced at him, her smile slowly melted and an unmistakable look of wanting filled her eyes as she focused on him.

  Her index finger traced across his lower lip, brushing away a stray bit of frosting. Nearly undone by her touch, Brett rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans to wipe off the sticky residue. He reached for her, drawing her into his arms.

  Every cell in his body screamed to make Tara his own, but instead he just held her. If he kissed her at that moment, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  She rested against him, leaned into his chest and took his restraint to the edge of snapping as she breathed softly against his neck.

  When he couldn’t take another minute of holding her close without doing something he shouldn’t, he kissed the top of her head and set her away from him. He cleared his throat and fastened his seatbelt. “I better get you back to Magnolia Rose. I don’t want to make you late for work.”

  A look of confusion gave way to one of hurt as she slid back across the seat and fastened her seatbelt. “I do have a lot to get done today. Tomorrow is the grand ball and I’ve still got a ton of baking to finish.”

  Brett glanced over at her as he drove down the hill and turned onto the road. “I can’t believe this month went by so fast. You just have tomorrow and then you’re leaving.”

  “I know. I really do hate to leave, Brett, but I have a job and my family and friends waiting for me back in Portland.” Tara sighed and glanced out the window, growing silent.

  Not for the first time, he wished she’d forget about everything else beyond staying here, with him. Nonetheless, one of the many things he loved about Tara was that she might sometimes have her head in the clouds, but both feet were firmly planted on the ground.

  “You know you could stay with Mom and Dad if you aren’t ready to leave. They’d love to have you.” Brett turned the pickup down the lane that led to Magnolia Rose’s main house.

  Tara grinned. “I got that idea, loud and clear, when you took me there for dinner the other night. Your parents are both so sweet and kind, but I couldn’t impose like that.”

  “Really, Tara?” He snorted. “How could you possibly think your presence would be an imposition? With a dozen empty bedrooms to choose from, do you really think you’d be cramping their style?” He waved to a few of the staff working in the flower garden as he pulled around back. “I know for a fact Ashley and Wade would let you stay a little longer, too. After you did that whole ‘afternoon with Scarlett’ thing for Ashley, they would do anything for you.”

  At her doubtful look, he tipped his head toward the house. “They really would. And you have to know by now that I want …”

  “Tara!” one of the pastry assistants ran outside waving a charred dishtowel their direction. “Hurry! Jonas has been in the pastry kitchen and it’s bad.”

  “I will throttle that man if he so much as messed up a single muffin,” Tara threatened under her breath as she popped the seatbelt latch and opened the door. She slid out then looked back at Brett. “This was the most amazing start to a day I’ve ever had, Brett, and that includes all the years I got up to see what Santa, the Easter Bunny, and tooth fairy left for me. Thank you.”

  She blew him a quick kiss then took the porch steps two at a time, racing inside the house where smoke had started billowing out one of the kitchen windows.

  Brett drove home, wondering what it would take to get Tara to stay. Suddenly, he realized telling her how he felt might help his cause. He knew it seemed too soon for what he felt to be real, but it was. With every moment he spent around her, his certainty increased. He loved Tara Tarleton, and nothing could change that.

  He almost turned around in the middle of the road to head back to Magnolia Rose and confess what was on his mind and in his heart. Instead, he kept driving. Tara had enough to handle until the end of the grand ball tomorrow. The last thing she needed was him rushing into the kitchen declaring his undying love — even if he meant every word of it.

  Chapter Nine

  After spending the last ten hours in the kitchen preparing for tonight’s grand ball, the final event during the living history experience, Tara needed fresh air.

  She unbuttoned her chef’s coat and left it on a hook by the door then slipped outside. The day had rapidly progressed from bad to worse.

  Chef Stuart had called in a panic that morning to let them know his wife had gone into labor with their first baby. A slew of dignitaries, restaurant critics, and celebrities could have been on the guest list for the evening and Stuart would still have missed the dinner. Nothing was keeping him away from his wife that day. Nothing.

  As it was, he assured Tara she
’d do great handling everything that needed to come out of the bakeshop and Jonas would oversee the rest.

  Tara didn’t want to alarm Stuart, so she held her tongue. However, after watching the annoying little man work the last few weeks, she seriously doubted Jonas could handle anything well. He certainly wouldn’t handle it with grace, composure, or kindness. The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he started barking orders and raising the stress level in the kitchen to unnecessary heights.

  Shoulders knotted with tension and stiff from spending so long bent over her work, Tara set a brisk pace as she walked along a path toward the barn and swung her arms back and forth, trying to loosen her muscles.

  Yesterday and throughout the day today, she wondered what Brett had been about to say before they were so abruptly interrupted when he brought her back from seeing the sunrise. Tara wasn’t totally clueless when it came to men. She couldn’t help but consider what she saw in Brett’s eyes when he looked at her. Convinced what she hoped he’d been about to say had to be a result of her active imagination, surely it wasn’t a dream based in reality.

  Brett and his family lived in a world Tara didn’t fully understand and wouldn’t ever fit in. They were old money, old southern traditions, and everything she’d always imagined she’d wanted when she’d fantasized about stepping into the pages of her favorite novel.

  The hunky horse handler was just being nice to her because they both knew she’d be leaving soon. He could spend time with her as a little diversion without any worry of her wanting something more lasting or permanent.

  As for Tara, she’d spent the last month falling in love. In love with the South, the beautiful plantations, and verdant countryside alive with spring. She’d fallen for authentic southern dishes and the scent of magnolias in the air. Most definitely, she’d fallen in love with Brett Cutler.

  Despite her brain telling her it was a horrible, terrible idea, her heart cheered her on, loudly proclaiming he was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  Much to her dismay, she had to agree with her heart. Brett made her happy in ways she never dared dream. He made her think and wish. Just being with him made her feel beautiful, smart, witty, and amazing.

  Yet, tomorrow she’d be on a plane headed back to what now seemed like her boring, predictable, somewhat unsatisfactory life in Portland.

  By this point in her career, she expected to be the sous chef in a fabulous restaurant. Instead, she worked in a bakery for a kind old man who really should sell his business or retire. Tara spent as much time balancing his books as she did baking, and that was absolutely not what she wanted to do.

  The few restaurants she’d worked in had been so disappointing. Men like Jonas always seemed to weasel their way up to a place of prominence by stepping on those who weren’t willing to advance their careers through lies or treachery.

  Tara had been thoroughly annoyed with Jonas yesterday morning. He’d insisted on taking over baking the tarts for the ball tonight and had burned the first batch to the point they were blackened lumps. That was when Tara had arrived. By sheer force of will, she’d managed to refrain from screaming at him to get out of her pastry kitchen. Instead, he told her she should have been there earlier instead of off “gallivanting with the help” then stalked off.

  Throughout the day, he’d made blunder after blunder, wasting more food than Tara had thrown out in her entire career. After Stuart’s call, Jonas had gone from slightly frazzled to completely frantic.

  Tara had risen at four that morning to get started on all the baking for the day. To make the event as fun and authentic as possible, Ashley and Wade extended an invitation throughout their social circles for friends to gather for the annual Magnolia Ball. According to Ashley’s last count, they planned to have around four hundred guests, including those who had paid to be a part of the living history experience all month.

  Tara had baked cornbread and buttermilk biscuits, and would make pans of popovers right before the meal was served. She’d also baked enough airy dinner rolls to feed a small army.

  In addition, she’d baked cakes, pies, and created dozens of her special Magnolia Bliss dessert, at Ashley’s request.

  Despite the turmoil Jonas created, Tara felt prepared for the evening ahead. That was the reason she indulged in a few minutes of fresh air before returning to her work.

  She strolled past a pit that had been dug to roast pigs. The scent of the meat filled the air with a mouth-watering aroma.

  “Smells delicious, guys,” she said to the two men overseeing the pit.

  “It sure does, Miss Tara,” one of them replied, tipping his head to her as she made her way back to the house.

  Before she even stepped into the kitchen, she could hear raised voices then the sound of loud clanging, like a pan dropping to the floor.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as she pushed open the door and stepped into pandemonium. Food covered the floor. Not just a spilled pan, or two, but it appeared much of what the staff had spent the day preparing.

  In the midst of the mess, Jonas grabbed a bowl filled with salad, ready to upend it. The man held a knife in one hand, waving it menacingly in the air, to keep everyone away from him.

  “Stop!” Tara shouted running toward him with her hand held palm out, as if she was about to direct traffic. Her shoes hit a spot of spilled cream sauce and she skidded across the floor like a ballerina engaged in hockey game.

  Jonas glared at her with a glazed expression, holding the bowl in front of him, as though he hadn’t yet decided if he’d follow her orders.

  “Put the bowl down, Jonas,” Tara said. She grabbed the edge of the nearby counter to gain her balance then stepped in front of the man. “It’s okay. Just put the bowl down, Jonas. Everything is just fine.”

  Jonas cackled and shook his head. “Fine? Oh, no. It’s not fine at all. The chef wanted me to create a masterpiece for tonight and this is slop. Slop fit for pigs. I’ll create something better. Something everyone will remember. They’ll remember me!”

  “They certainly will,” a line chef said, slowly moving over to flank Tara.

  “Did someone call security?” she asked in a tone low enough Jonas couldn’t hear.

  “We did. They should be here any second,” the young man said. “One minute everything was fine, the next thing we know, he’s dumping out food and raving like a lunatic. If it wasn’t for that knife in his hand, Boyd would have tackled him.”

  “It’s okay, Joe. Why don’t you go to the outer kitchen door and wait for security?” Tara suggested, keeping her focus on Jonas’ every move. She had no desire to get close enough for him to knife her, yet she couldn’t allow him to continue dumping out the food they needed to feed the hordes of people who would descend on Magnolia Rose in a matter of hours.

  She edged closer to him, holding up both hands to show she meant no harm. “Look, Jonas, if you set down the bowl and your knife, I’ll help you with the menu. Okay? We can start from scratch. Do you think we should serve bisque this evening?”

  “A bisque?” Jonas spat her direction. “Gumbo, woman! Our guests need gumbo, and bread with cracklings, and grits. I shall cook them all grits!” He set down the bowl but only so he could take the knife with both hands and turn toward Tara. “You’re in cahoots with the chef. Plotting against me, laughing at me. I won’t stand for it. I won’t!”

  Jonas lunged toward Tara, slicing the knife across her palm before a body slammed into him, taking him down to the floor.

  Tara stared wide-eyed as the two security guards zip-tied Jonas’ hands behind his back and pulled him to his feet.

  By now, the unbalanced little man was sobbing. “My gumbo. My beautiful gumbo.”

  Sirens sounded the arrival of the police just before Ashley and Wade charged into the kitchen. Ashley had obviously been dressing for the ball because half her hair was rolled up on big foam rollers while the other half dangled in damp strands around her flushed face. She had on a cotton robe that barely clo
sed over the top of her hoop skirt, and she was barefooted.

  “Oh, my heavens!” the woman said in a distressed tone as she rushed into the room. “Oh, no!”

  Wade’s face bore a lather of shaving cream on one side and he wore a pair of hastily fastened breeches with no shirt.

  At least they didn’t let vanity stand in the way of speeding to the kitchen to see what transpired.

  Tara grabbed a clean dishtowel and wrapped around her hand to staunch the bleeding as Joe led the police into the kitchen where Jonas blubbered like a baby. After the police hauled him outside and took statements from the witnesses, those left in the kitchen silently surveyed the disaster area left in Jonas’ wake.

  “What are we going to do?” Ashley asked. She stared from her husband to the food dumped on the kitchen floor. “Oh, Wade! This is a disaster!”

  “Yes, it is, sweetheart, but surely all can’t be lost.” He glanced around the kitchen. “The meat outside is still roasting, isn’t it?”

  “I just checked on it and it will be done right on time,” Tara said, stepping forward when everyone else remained silent. “It doesn’t appear Jonas made it into the pastry area, so all the breads and desserts should be intact.”

  “If he’d ruined the Magnolia Bliss…” Ashley leaned against her husband, getting a blob of shaving cream on one of her curlers.

  “The dessert is fine, but I’m afraid with Stuart called away, we are without a head chef.” Tara glanced at Boyd and Joe, wondering if one of them would step up and say they would take charge.

  “Do whatever you need to, Tara. If you need more supplies, send some of the outside staff to town. If you need more help in the kitchen, we’ll have the housekeepers come in to assist. What do you need?” Wade asked, taking a step forward as his wife clung to his side.

  “A big garbage can, some extra hands for prep work, and maybe a bandage.” Tara held up her bleeding hand.

  Ashley groaned and fainted against Wade. He swept her into his arms in a move Tara might have admired as quite gallant. At least she would have if she hadn’t been preoccupied with setting the kitchen to rights and coming up with an elaborate southern meal for four hundred people in less than three hours.