Keeping Guard

When he saw Kylie’s earnest expression, Nate thought about telling her that he missed it also. But then he might have to tell her about that last rescue he’d attempted. About the failure that still haunted him and drove him to be the person he was today.

When Kylie got back to her room, her back ached, her feet hurt and her head pounded. She wasn’t used to being on her feet all day, bending over a chopping board for hours at a time, or trying to remember a list of new recipes. She worked hard on her local cooking show and for her catering business, but it was nothing like this.

She lay back in bed and kicked her feet up. What she wouldn’t do for a TV to distract her thoughts right now. Or a good book. Well, she had a good book, but she wouldn’t be reading it. Not with that reminder written in the front of it.

Instead, her mind wandered to her conversation with Bruce today. The Man in Black was getting brave, breaking into her apartment like that. He’d broken in once before to leave her a note. That hand-jotted letter had been one of the first clues that whoever followed her wasn’t merely a harmless fan. After that, the pictures began coming. The photos proved that wherever she went, this man followed her.

She pulled her arms around her chest. The man had never touched her but still she’d felt so violated. She prayed he would be caught soon. Then she could get out of this tiny apartment and away from Nate Richardson.

His image—as handsome as it might be—flashed in her head and she frowned.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Nate. She couldn’t help but feel she was in his way, that he didn’t really want her here.

She sighed. She’d done enough thinking. Thinking always got her in trouble.

She reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her cell phone. She’d laid out the pieces this morning, hoping the electronics would dry out. She snapped the battery back in and pressed the “on” button. A moment later, her screen lit up.

“Yes, it works.” She didn’t plan on leaving the phone on during her stay here, but it was nice to have, just in case she needed to get in touch with someone in an emergency.

The phone buzzed and a message popped up on the screen informing her that she had four new voice mail messages. Probably all from Nate or Bruce last night. She anticipated hearing their anxious voices, asking her where she was and why she wasn’t answering.

The first two messages, as she expected, were from Bruce and the third from Nate. She anticipated the fourth being from Bruce as well. Instead, a gravelly voice filled her ears.

“Where are you, Kylie? You think you can run from me, but you can’t. I’ll find you, wherever you go. Remember that. I’m always watching.”

Kylie scavenged the cupboards the next morning only to discover she had no food in her little kitchenette. Her stomach rumbling with hunger, she got dressed and headed downstairs. Certainly Nate wouldn’t mind if she hunted around the restaurant for something to eat.

When she found some free time, she’d buy some groceries. But if Nate worked her as hard today as he’d done yesterday, she’d never have the chance to go shopping. If what Suzy had told her was true, it was no wonder the man couldn’t keep any employees around.

As she padded downstairs, she shivered, remembering the voice mail she’d listened to last night. How far away would she have to be from her life in Kentucky before she felt safe? Would she ever feel safe?

She pushed through the doors into the kitchen, and the scent of bacon and eggs drifted out. Nate stood at the griddle wearing a white apron and what was perhaps a warm smile. Could it be?

“Morning.” He turned over an omelet and turned toward her.

Yep, that was the start of a small smile. It looked nice on him.

Kylie had to turn her approving gaze away from her temporary boss. She always found something very attractive about a man in the kitchen. Instead of dwelling on the image, she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “Smells good.”

Using tongs, he picked up a piece of bacon from the griddle and placed it on a plate with an omelet. He handed the dish to her. “I thought you might be hungry and I realized I didn’t leave you any food.”

“This more than makes up for it.” She placed the food on the counter while going to grab two ceramic mugs. “Want me to grab you a cup of coffee? You will be joining me for breakfast, won’t you?”

“I usually just share the breakfast nook with a newspaper. I suppose a change in company could be good.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She poured the hot liquid into the cups and carried them to a table at the front. As she waited for Nate, she took the opportunity to soak in the dining area. Nate had created a nice atmosphere—one that fit in with his Revolutionary theme by keeping a post-and-beam design, low ceilings, chandeliers with electric candles and simple, mission-style tables and chairs. The floors were wooden and rustic-looking, and a few antiques were scattered along the walls. Now all he needed were waitresses dressed in period attire.

A moment later, Nate joined her with two steaming plates of food. A moment of awkward silence followed as they both began eating. What exactly did they have to talk about? It seemed all they had in common were her brother and cooking, the latter of which Nate apparently couldn’t stand.

“Good omelet,” she finally said. She told the truth. The eggs were delicious and cooked perfectly.

“Thanks. Breakfast is my meal of choice any day of the week.” He took another bite and eyed her a moment. After swallowing he said, “So tell me more about your show and your catering business. You seem to enjoy cooking.”

She wiped her mouth and nodded. “I do enjoy cooking. Always have. I like taking everyday, ordinary foods and making them…extraordinary. All it usually takes is some fresh herbs or an unexpected ingredient and—voilà!—the whole dish can come alive.”

“Maybe you’ll show me one of those dishes sometime.”

She nodded again, contemplating whether or not she should offer her ideas about his restaurant. No, she decided, she wouldn’t overstep her boundaries. “I’ve always loved food, ever since I was little. I always wanted to help my mom in the kitchen or make meals for my friends. I did go to culinary school, but only for a year. At that point, my friend and I began getting offered catering jobs—first for our friends’ weddings or church functions. But business really began picking up, and we started doing a lot for some high-end clients and companies.”

“How did you get your own cooking show?”

“One of my clients opened a kitchen shop—you know, one of those stores that sell every imaginable tool for the kitchen? She started asking me to come in and do demonstrations. I did, and I discovered I loved it. While I was doing a demonstration, a producer from a local network saw me. He asked me to come in and do a screen test. I really fumbled the first few times in front of the camera, but for some reason, the producer saw potential in me.”

Kylie paused to take a sip of coffee.

“I tried to do both the catering business and the show for a while, but it finally got to be too much. I’m still a partner in the catering business, but I ended up going full-time with the show, which is now syndicated on a few different stations in Kentucky. I’m by no means famous, but it does feel good to have your hard work recognized.” She put down her coffee, relishing the feeling of accomplishment, followed by the disappointment caused by this derailment in her plans. “And now, here I am. What more is there to say?”

Nate nodded and wiped his mouth. “I’m sure this guy will be caught soon and you’ll be able to resume your life.”

If only Kylie could be that certain. She licked her lips and leaned back in her chair. “So, you’ve heard all about me. Tell me about this place. Your father opened it, correct?”

“Twenty years ago. This was his big dream that he saved his entire life for. Finally, he quit his job at the motor plant where he worked on the assembly line and opened this place. Spent every cent of his savings and retirement here.”

“Wow. That’s a great story. I always like hearing about people pursuing their dreams. Was the restaurant everything he’d hoped it would be?”

“My dad loved it. It was more than a restaurant for him. This place was like a big old kitchen table where people would come and gather around. It didn’t matter if he knew you or not. As soon as you walked through the doors, you were his guest.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She shifted in her seat. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to your father?”

The smile disappeared from Nate’s face, a grim expression replacing it. “Three years ago, he had a heart attack. The doctor diagnosed him with coronary heart disease. In five months, he deteriorated quickly. Then the second heart attack hit a year after the first one. That one killed him on the spot.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“At least I still have this place. It makes me feel close to Dad, like his spirit is still here overseeing everything.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“She died when I was a kid. Cancer.”

Cancer. Every time Kylie heard the word, she felt a pang of sadness and grief and understanding. “You must have been an only child.”

“The doctors told my parents they’d never have kids. But to their surprise, when my mom turned thirty-nine, she found out she was pregnant.”

Kylie took the last bite of her omelet. “I’m sure it was the best surprise she could have ever gotten.”

Nate smiled. “That’s what she always said.”

Silence fell again and Kylie wiped her mouth. She stood, her chair shrieking against the floor. “That was delicious, but I guess I should get busy in the kitchen.”