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Personal chef Beau St. Clair, recently divorced from his cheating husband, returns to the small Ohio River town where he grew up to lick his wounds.<br><br>Jack Rogers lives with his mother, Maisie, in that same small town, angry at and frightened by the world. Jack has a gap in his memory that hides something he dares not face, and he’s probably suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.<br><br>Maisie, seeking relief from her housebound and often surly son, hires Beau to cook for Jack, hoping the change might help bring Jack, once a handsome and vibrant attorney, back to his former self. But can a new face and comfort food compensate for the terror lurking in Jack’s past?<br><br>Slowly the two men begin a dance of revelation and healing. Food and compassion build a bridge between Beau and Jack, a bridge that might lead to love. But will Jack’s demons allow it? His history could just as easily tear them apart as bring them together.
A Missed Connection and a Memory
December 20, 2008
This memory rose up out of nowhere, so clear and vivid that I can’t help but think it must mean something…
* * * *
I stand at the corner of Pike and Miner, staring into his eyes. Odd how so much communication can pass between two people without even one word being spoken. Right now my eyes are saying to Jackson, this dreamboat I just met, “I love how blue and pale your eyes are. They remind me of ice, yet there’s a paradox there, because they exude such warmth. I love that your eyes are just slightly different in shape and size and the way one eyebrow cocks upward when you stare at me, as though you’re asking a question, issuing an invitation.
“I love that we just managed to have dinner together—a first date at an Italian restaurant, Soldano’s, just down the street—and the whole time we talked to each other like old friends instead of the usual first date chatter. My first dates have always felt like job interviews, but with you, it was different. We opened our minds. We opened our hearts.
“There was some flirting, sure, but the one thing I loved about you, Jack, was that you didn’t try to make this about getting me into bed. That’s the usual modus operandi for the series of first dates I’ve had over the course of 2008. Not that there’s anything wrong with hopping into bed! But when a guy makes you feel like he’s eyeing you as the next course, then you feel like an object, a piece of meat, like a cock connected to a body, a mind, a heart, a soul. And who needs that? You made me feel like you were interested in all of me.
“And for that, I’m grateful. For that, I can’t wait for a second date.”
As though he’s read my mind, Jackson leans forward, touches my cheek, and asks, “When can I see you again?”
I laugh and feel heat rise to my face. “Are you a mind reader?” I tease. “That was uncanny, because that’s pretty much exactly what I was thinking.” I smile up at him, suddenly noticing the first few snowflakes falling. It’s a distraction, because we don’t get much snow here in the Pacific Northwest, and it seems like a sign. I look at the dark sky, at the snow almost dancing as it falls gently on Capitol Hill. “Wow,” I whisper, almost reverent, “would you look at that? Snow.”
He cocks his head to one side, and his lips turn up in an almost unbearably sexy grin. “Are you trying to change the subject?”
“What? Oh no, no! Not at all.”
“Then how about tomorrow night? I have tickets for the men’s chorus and no one to go with.”
“I find thathard to believe.” As much as I would love to make tomorrow night our second date, I can’t. My flight to visit family for the holiday leaves bright and early out of Sea-Tac. “I wish I could, but family obligations beckon.” I give him a smile that I hope conveys my regret. “But I’m back on New Year’s Day.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long.” Jackson grins. “I just met you, and already I feel like I’d be lost without you.”
“Sweet talker! I bet you say that to all the boys.”
He just shakes his head. “No. Seriously, Beau. I had an amazing time with you tonight.”
“Me too. I never thought exchanging a couple messages online would lead to this.”
“And just what is this?” Jackson asks.
I pause to consider. “Maybe the start of something?”
“I think there’s very little maybe in it.” He sighs. He sticks out his tongue to catch a snowflake. “I guess I’m gonna have to wait.” He gives a little sniffle. “Shoot. I won’t see you now until next year!” he cries and stomps his foot, which makes me laugh.
There’s so much we don’t know about each other. For example, where we both live never came up in conversation. “The time will fly by,” I assure him. At least I hope it will. “Hey, where are you in town, anyway? Because if you wanna share a cab—”
“Is this your sly way of asking me to come home with you?”
Actually, it wasn’t. But now that he mentions it…Before I can respond, though, he says, “Don’t answer that. I live just down the hill a ways. In Belltown.” He leans in and takes me completely by surprise by pulling me toward him and kissing me. The kiss isn’t openmouthed, but it’s warm, and my knees go liquid.
