Just a Little Married
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Reese Ryan
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16.1K
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27
One
“Good to see you again, Chef Travis.” The valet greeted Travis Holloway with a wide grin and held up a copy of Travis’s latest cookbook. “Would you mind signing this for my girlfriend? She loves your competitive cooking show.”
Travis was tired and groggy after a long night at his restaurant in Atlanta and a nearly four-hour drive to Asheville that morning. But he would always be gracious. He greeted the younger man warmly, signed the cookbook and suggested they take a selfie that would impress the man’s girlfriend. Then he handed off the keys to his black Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat Widebody.
Once the valet drove away, Travis turned toward the building in front of him.
Moonlight Ridge.
Whenever he returned to the luxury resort, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, he couldn’t help thinking of when he’d first seen it. He was seven. A social worker escorted him here, telling him how lucky he was that this estate would be his new home. And that his new “father” and “brothers” eagerly awaited his arrival.
His stomach tightened in a knot at seeing his brothers again now, just as it had that day twenty-six years ago.
After a long absence, Travis had first returned to Moonlight Ridge a few months earlier, because his adoptive father, Jameson Holloway, the owner of Moonlight Ridge, had suffered a brain episode. He and his adoptive brothers had been forced to come together, despite years of estrangement following a car accident that had changed all of their lives—his especially.
They’d committed to working together to oversee their father’s at-home care and to help restore Moonlight Ridge, which had fallen into disrepair over the past decade. Over the past few months, his brothers, Mack and Grey, had taken the lead on overseeing the updates to the resort. They’d made vast improvements, but a lot still needed to be done.
The resort’s food services needed an overhaul, and that was his area of expertise.
Travis climbed the stairs and entered the rotunda. Then he made his way up the grand staircase in the lobby. The elegant space still had many of its original architectural features and decor from when it was built in the 1930s. Travis glided his hand along the banister he and his brothers slid down as boys. He grinned, recalling that winter Mack had gotten the bright idea to sled down the stairwell.
It hadn’t ended well.
Travis continued to the third floor, where the offices were located. He stood in front of his father’s office, the door partially ajar, and sighed.
Travis, Mack and Grey, all former foster kids, had all been a handful. Each of them was dealing with their own brand of family-induced trauma. It’d taken time, but the three of them had become brothers in every sense of the word. It was the Holloway brothers against the world.
Until it wasn’t.
The night of the car accident that had changed everything would forever be burned into Travis’s brain. It was the night his entire life went to shit. The night he’d lost his family and, for a time, the use of his legs. It was the night he’d lost his football scholarship, his dreams of playing in the NFL and the girl he’d believed he’d loved more than anything in the world.
It was the night he’d been reminded that there were few people he could trust implicitly. But his adoptive father, Jameson Holloway, sat atop that short list. He’d nursed him back to health, never allowing him to give up or feel sorry for himself. Always believing he would walk again, regardless of the grim initial diagnosis.
Like always, the old man was right. But it had taken him two grueling years to get there.
And though his body was whole again, he’d emerged from the entire ordeal irrevocably broken. He’d pushed his brothers away. Bitter over the loss of his dreams. Resentful that they’d come out of the accident unscathed, moving on with the lives they’d planned for themselves. Devastated over the girl whose betrayal had triggered everything that happened that horrible night. Angry with the world in general.
Through therapy, he’d worked out a lot of that anger. Since their father’s illness, Travis had been forced to spend time with Mack and Grey in person and via phone and videoconferences. He’d been reestablishing a tentative relationship with his brothers. Partly out of a sense of obligation to their father. Partly out of his own guilt over how he’d handled the fallout from the accident.
He’d been wrong to blame his brothers, but he couldn’t turn back time. Things would never be the same between them, so spending time with Mack and Grey in person still caused a knot in his gut. It was why he’d bailed immediately after Mack’s wedding.
An emergency with the show had arisen, and Travis had taken the opportunity to delay his return. But now he was ready to get started. The sooner they got Moonlight Ridge running smoothly again, the sooner he could return to his life.
Travis entered the room and slipped into the seat beside Grey. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Thought you’d changed your mind.” Mack, who sat behind the desk, raised a brow. “I called. You didn’t answer.”
“I was on a call with a potential investor for the proposed New York restaurant.” Travis imitated Mack’s stern tone and cadence, causing Grey to chuckle. “But I’m here now.”
Mack didn’t find Travis’s spot-on imitation amusing. His frown deepened. “Then let’s get started. My wife is waiting.”
“How is Molly?” Travis nodded toward the door between this adjoining office and hers.
He’d always liked Molly Haskell. Her father had worked at the resort, and Molly and Mack had been an item as teenagers. The relationship ended when Mack left, not long after the accident.
Travis was glad his brother and Molly had found their way back to each other. They belonged together. Not that he believed in soul mates or the sunshine-and-rainbows bullshit about love. Personal experience had taught him better than to believe that.
What he did believe in was mutually beneficial alliances. That was the best anyone could hope for in a relationship. And the relationship between Mack and Molly was equally beneficial. Or maybe sixty/forty was more accurate. After all, Mack “Know It All” Holloway could be a lot for anyone to deal with.
“She’s doing well.” A soft grin curved Mack’s mouth.
For all of his alpha male posturing, Mack was a soft, gooey-in-the-center romantic. His brother had fallen in deep. If he didn’t look so damn giddy—by Mack Holloway standards—Travis would feel sorry for him.
“She’s meeting with our department heads. She’ll stop by and give us an update, if we’re ever done here,” Mack groused. “I know you’re living the bachelor life and you’ve got nothing but time, but our significant others have planned a double date for us, so...”
Travis felt a twinge of envy. Mack was newly married. Grey was deeply involved with Moonlight Ridge’s wedding coordinator, Autumn Kincaid. When he’d seen his brothers at Mack and Molly’s wedding two weeks earlier, both men seemed settled and happy.
But before the uneasy feeling could take hold, he reminded himself the bachelor life he was living was a pretty damn good one. One most men would be envious of.
He enjoyed glamorous events, luxury accommodations, extravagant vacations and designer gear—most of it on someone else’s dime. And there was no shortage of beautiful women clamoring to be on his arm when he walked the red carpet at the opening of one of his restaurants or some social event. He had no reason to be envious of Mack or Grey.
His life was just fine the way it was.
“Then let’s get down to business.” Travis opened the document Mack had handed him and scanned the index page. Then he tossed it onto the desk. “I’ll read that later while you two are...more pleasantly occupied.” Travis smirked. “Let’s just hit the highlights and lowlights. Have you discovered who our embezzler is?”
Since their father’s illness, they’d discovered that someone on the staff had been stealing from the resort for several years. Uncovering the thief’s identity was their top priority.
Mack frowned and folded his hands on the desk. “We’re still working on that.”
“But our forensic accountant discovered that most of the irregularities can be traced to food and beverage—the area where we need your help most,” Grey added.
“So you expect me to revive the menu while working with a subpar chef who might also be the elusive embezzler neither of you nor your expensive forensic accountant could nail down? Well, that’s just fucking great.”
Travis walked over to the windows behind Mack that overlooked the property and provided a stunning view of the lake. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Maybe if his brothers hadn’t spent all their time pursuing romantic relationships, they would’ve found the thief by now.
“Let’s begin with the obvious. We’ll get rid of the mediocre chef and bring on someone with some real talent. Then if the current chef is the thief, we’ve solved both issues—the fast-food-grade menu and the embezzlement.”
“We considered it,” Grey acknowledged. “But Dad won’t hear of it. You know how loyal he is. Hallie Gregson was Chef Fern’s sous chef for years. When Fern up and left, Pops insisted on giving Hallie a shot as the executive chef. He believes she can become a world-class cook. Says she just needs a bit of—”
“Tutoring,” Mack offered. “Which is what you do on those cooking shows, right?”
Mack had obviously never watched one of his shows.
“No, it isn’t,” Travis said impatiently. “I’m not a fairy godmother, Mack. I can’t sprinkle pixie dust on this woman and make her a real chef. What I do is give self-taught chefs with actual talent the tools to achieve their destiny.”
“Sounds like it came right out of the brochure.” Grey chuckled.
Travis gave him the evil eye, then folded his arms. “Look, I want to help Pops and the resort, of course. But you’re tying my hands and strapping a lead weight to my feet here.”
“I thought you enjoyed a challenge.”
Travis turned toward the sunny voice behind him and grinned.
“Molly. Good to see you.” He hugged his sister-in-law. “And I do enjoy a good challenge, but I’m a chef and a mentor—not a miracle worker.”
“Yes, you are,” Molly countered confidently. “I’ve seen every episode of your shows. You’ve transformed self-taught chefs with raw talent and a complete lack of discipline into culinary superstars.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Mol.” Travis realized that his sister-in-law was stroking his ego, but it was nice to hear anyway.
The chefs he’d mentored were talented but had a lot to learn, as he once had. He’d had a natural gift in the kitchen and had been cooking since he was a kid, after his biological father died and his mother went off the rails. Then at fourteen, he’d decided he could do better than Jameson’s suspect cooking. So he’d honed his skills under the tutelage of Moonlight Ridge’s former executive chef, French ex-pat Henri Bernard.
Each week, Chef Henri had shown him how to prepare a new meal. Cooking relaxed him. And as he became more confident, he’d enjoyed adding his own flair and turning a basic meal into something spectacular.
Travis had derived immense satisfaction from watching his father and brothers devour the meals he’d made with such great care. But he’d never considered that being a chef was what he was meant to do with his life.
“I’m good,” Travis said. “But I can’t turn water into wine.”
“I realize this may be your greatest challenge yet,” Molly said, undeterred. “But our current staff, including the executive chef, are well aware things need to change if Moonlight Ridge is going to survive. They’re all big fans and eager to work with you.”
That bit of information made Travis feel the slightest bit hopeful. A self-aware chef who recognized the need for improvement was the kind of clay he could work with. Still...
“If you could turn things around here, it’d be quite the accomplishment,” Molly added. “It’d make for a great book. And I’d bet one of those producer friends of yours would jump at the chance to document the process for a limited-run show. It’d mean more revenue for you and for Moonlight Ridge.”
“Interesting idea, honey.” Mack rubbed his chin. Translation: he hated the idea. “But should we really advertise that our current fare is...substandard?”
“We’d also need to invest in a serious upgrade of our kitchen and dining areas,” Grey griped. “Moonlight Ridge can barely afford the renovations of the main building we’re doing now. Let alone the cottages around the lake.”
A mutually beneficial alliance that could make Moonlight Ridge better than ever and expand his restaurant brand, Traverser. That was a proposal worth considering.
Travis already had eateries in Atlanta—where he lived—and in LA—where they filmed the cooking network shows. Then there was the gastropub in London. His sights were set on opening signature restaurants in New York and perhaps Rome. Molly’s idea could garner investors for his restaurant group and for Moonlight Ridge, which would ease the financial burden on the three of them.
“Brilliant idea, Molly,” Travis said.
Molly looked pleased. Mack and Grey didn’t.
“Didn’t you hear anything I just said?” Mack asked.
“Sure. You said, Bad publicity, wah, wah, wah. Then Grey said, We don’t have the money, wah, wah, wah.” Travis imitated the trombone-created voice of the adults talking in the Charlie Brown cartoons they’d watched as kids. “But to address your concern—by the time the show airs, the property will be fully renovated. As for the money, I’ll run this by a couple of producer friends of mine. If they green-light the idea, I know I’ll be able to raise the capital.”
“You’re talking about bringing in investors?” Mack stood, and Grey looked alarmed.
“Yeah, why?” Travis shrugged.
“You know how the old man feels about this place.” Mack paced the floor. “If Pops isn’t willing to make changes in staff, do you really think he’ll relinquish control to investors?”
“He’d maintain a controlling interest in the place. The short-term investments would give us the money for renovations and the show would give us much-needed publicity. It’s a win all the way around.”
Travis sank onto his chair again and crossed one ankle over his knee.
“Good luck selling Pops on the idea.” Grey chuckled.
“Now, that’s a challenge I’ll happily accept.” Travis pointed at Grey, then sighed. “As for Hallie the Food Killer... I promise to do my best with her. If I succeed, I should be nominated for the culinary equivalent of knighthood.”
Even Mack couldn’t help laughing at that.
“I can’t help you there,” he said. “But you’ll have Pops’s undying gratitude and ours. Moonlight Ridge means everything to him, Travis. So I know you understand why saving this place means so much to all of us.”
“Of course I do. The place means a lot to me, too.” Travis’s gaze drifted to the mahogany wood paneling and brass wall sconces original to the house. “I’ll do everything I can to help save this place. I promise. In fact, I already have plans to meet with Chef Henri. Hopefully, he can help shorten the learning curve on some of the best local food suppliers and what diners in the area are looking for right now.”
“Brilliant idea.” Mack nodded.
Molly sat in on the remaining half hour of their meeting. The three of them brought him up to date on everything he needed to know to begin his monumental task of whipping the kitchen staff and catering operations into shape.
Autumn Kincaid knocked on the door as they were ending the meeting. She greeted Travis then asked if he’d be joining them for dinner.
“Wouldn’t want to intrude on your double date. Besides, I need to head down to the kitchen and size up the staff. Then I’m spending the evening with Pops,” Travis said.
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Autumn assured him. “I made the reservation for the five of us. I assumed you’d be tagging along.”
Tagging along? No thanks.
“Maybe some other time.” Travis smiled.
Travis said his goodbyes, then watched as his brothers and their love interests walked toward the elevator hand in hand. He turned and headed back down the stairs.
Nope. Not even a little bit envious.
Sure, they all looked happy enough now. But relationships were constant work, and the payoff was usually disappointment, at best; betrayal, at worst.
Those weren’t odds he was willing to play.
Unlike his lovestruck brothers, Travis would happily stick to his “bachelor life,” get Moonlight Ridge’s kitchen and catering services in shape, find the elusive embezzler then get back to his busy life in Atlanta and LA.
It was the least he could do for Jameson Holloway, who’d done so much for him.
