Stolen Kiss (The Turners of Copper Island #2)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jason

“ W hy are you both in my kitchen?” Jason asked, giving Archer and Erica a set of raised eyebrows. He was tasting the tomato sauce he was perfecting for his chicken curry. Not too spicey and not too mild. He’d been grinding seeds in his mortar and pestle all morning, getting the right balance, and now the sauce was bubbling away.

“I enjoy watching you work,” Erica said.

His eyes narrowed on the blatant lie. Well, he thought it was a lie only because neither of them came to the kitchens at Edward Hall while he cooked. He’d cooked in their kitchen plenty of times, but he hadn’t noticed she watched.

“Nope, not buying it,” he said, tossing the spoon into the sink of soapy water.

Archer gave Erica a universal nod that said, just tell him . She inhaled long and slow and then hoisted her arse up onto the long metal bench that ran parallel to where Jason was standing behind his bench. He leaned a hip against the metal and folded his arms, dropping his chin to wait.

“We have our first booking,” Erica said. She exaggerated her grin like she was terrified, but putting on a brave face.

“Why do you both look like long-tailed cats in a room filled with mousetraps?” Jason said, coming around the bench to stand opposite them. Archer had joined Erica sitting on the metal table. He made a mental note to wash down the table when they’d gone. He ran a clean and spotless kitchen.

“It’s a biggy. And if we pull it off, it will project this place into the stratosphere,” she said, waving her hands in a theatre style move, looking up to the ceiling. Jason was waiting for the Jazz hands to finish, but she dropped her hands into her lap and then shuffled closer to Archer.

“Please don’t tell me it’s an actor,” Jason said.

“Okay, but she is an actor,” Erica said.

“The client is the bride? That fills me with doom,” Jason said. “Can’t we start small, like a local who wants plain food and will not kick up a fuss?”

“She’s not a diva or a bridezilla, I promise,” Erica said.

“Oscars,” Jason clipped.

“What?” Archer and Erica said.

“How many Oscars?”

“Not many,” Erica said, and ploughed on. “She’s a good friend of mine and has fallen madly in love. She knows everyone and has a deal with the biggest fashion magazine in the world. Which means exclusivity and no press.”

“All that tells me is that perfection will be expected. Our first gig cannot be an Oscar-winning actress.”

“Multiple,” Archer chipped in.

“Not at all helpful, brother,” Jason said.

“Well, technically, your first gig here was an Oscar-winning actress,” Archer said, looking at his wife and holding her hand.

“Yeah, but you’re Erica, and not an unknown entity,” Jason argued.

“If we put on the best wedding, we can then the feature alone in the magazine will ensure years of bookings,” Archer said.

“It’s the, if we don’t manage the best wedding bit, I’m concerned about,” Jason replied.

“We’ll find other clients,” Archer said.

“No pressure then. To make the perfect cake, perfect wedding breakfast, the perfect every fucking thing.”

“Jason, relax. It’s going to be fine,” Erica said, using her soothing voice, and he felt soothed instantly.

“I’m used to bad tempered oil rig workers who are so hungry they’ll eat anything.”

“But you still served them gourmet meals, regardless,” Archer pointed out.

“This is too much pressure. I’ve been baking and cooking for three months solid. Every staff member’s freezers must be full by this stage. What if I fuck it up?”

“I think you need to get laid, Jason,” Archer said.

“I don’t want to have a one-night stand, especially on this island.”

“Well, maybe you could have a drink at the gig race today, casual like with old friends. Maybe that would bring down the stress levels a bit. You don’t need to keep practising. You’re a sensational chef,” Archer said.

“Complimenting me won’t gloss over what you just suggested. I’m not talking to her. She and her brother made it crystal clear I was not to come anywhere near them.”

“Don’t you want to find out why?” Erica asked, clearly wanting to know why. He wanted to know why. He’d wanted to know why for eleven fucking years.

“What’s the point? It’s eleven years. She’s probably married with kids by now.”

Jason knew she wasn’t. He knew she was single and had been for a year. This was his perfect opportunity for a reunion, heart- to-heart, to see what the hell went wrong back when they were mad for each other.

“You can’t not go to the gig racing even Cynthia goes,” Archer said.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he said, then desperate to change the subject, said, “can I make you both breakfast?”

“Yes,” they both said and drew their chairs up to the bench Jason was working on.

“What’ll it be?” he asked and sighed.

Archer and Erica rattled off their orders, and he set to work. When he cooked he didn’t think of anything else, especially Heidi Shaw.

A few hours later and he was on the quayside, hipflask in his inside pocket of his leather jacket and his hands stuffed into his jeans front pockets. He felt the scowl drawing his eyebrows together as he squinted into the sun. Archer was explaining the ins and outs of gig racing while Jason scanned the crowd. He barely recognised anyone. He’d like to pretend he was looking for familiar faces. A few came up to him and he shook their hands and exchanged how are you .

Really, he was looking for her. The sun was out and blue skies were overhead, but the wind whipping around the quay gave a stiff cool breeze. He pulled the jacket edges together and pulled the zip up to his chin. He half thought he was donning battle gear as he saw his best friend approach.

The best friend who cut all ties eleven years ago.

“You’ve gone soft if you think this is cold,” Keith said.

“I’ve been working in the North Sea for over a decade. You don’t know cold until you’ve experienced a winter in the middle of nowhere,” Jason replied, not looking at him.

“Fair point.”

Keith wasn’t looking at him either. They were both looking out to the boats in the harbour.

“You should come to the shack. Archer knows where it is. We can go for a surf. Still have your board?” Keith asked.

“Yep.”

“Good, see you soon.”

“Yep.”

Keith walked away without a backward glance. One down, one to go, Jason thought. He spotted Freya in the crowd to his left. Where Freya was, Heidi was not far behind. They came as a pair. It was a good job he liked Freya, otherwise he would have lost Heidi at the first hurdle.

“Incoming,” Archer said, stepping back, taking Erica with him.

Jason dropped his head back to look at the sky and then to his left. Attached to Freya’s hand was Heidi. He lost his breath for a second. Her sun kissed hair was all over the place in the wind and she’d never looked better. Ten years had matured her from pretty to beautiful and he felt his heart break all over again. Freya locked eyes with him first, and she gave him a wink.

“I’ll be back in a second, I see…” Freya looked away when she said the name, if she said it at all.

It left Jason with no choice but to look at Heidi.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his chin to look at her. She was a tall woman, but still six inches shorter than him.

“Hi, I heard you were back,” she said, barely meeting his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You here to watch the gig race?”

“My brother insisted.”

“So he should. Every resident who can walk should be here,” she said.

Her feelings hadn’t changed since the last time they huddled with the masses of Copper Island to cheer on the island’s team.

“We can’t get a good vantage point. We’ve been pushing our way through. I swear Freya nearly pushed a toddler into the water.”

A grin split his face. Heidi was talking to him like they’d never stopped dating, but then he remembered.

“It’s been a while,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, it has. I heard you’ve given up the rigs, all of you.”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t know how to answer that. His dad died and then their lives turned to shit when they closed the oil rig. Then their aunt gave them a business, knowing it wasn’t up and running. Now he had to prepare a banquet for top-notch Hollywood and all he wanted to do was get out onto the water with his surfboard.

“You want a lift up?” he asked.

The words were out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying.

Heidi nodded, wide eyed.

Jason stalked the three feet between them and she backed up and until she hit the wall. He took his time to curl his hands around her waist and then grabbed on tight as he lifted her high. Heidi’s mouth was millimetres away from his just for a second, and then he placed her on the wall. Jason looked up at her and it transported back to years ago when they did this, before he left, and she never spoke to him again. Breaking eye contact, he turned around and leant against the wall. Jason took one leg and circled his fingers around her slim ankle and then the other, pulling them over his shoulder to rest there. He held on tight because the other side of the slim wall Heidi Shaw was sitting on was a hundred feet drop into the dry dock.

Jason wasn’t about to let her go.