kitchen?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“It’s brutal. You have to be fearless. I’ve always been a good cook, but it took me years to measure up to the backbone it required to scream back or dodge flying objects hurled by the chef in charge. And apparently it wasn’t natural for me at all. I’m more of a cook than a street fighter.”
He leaned an elbow on the bar and gave her his undivided attention. “And you know this because…?”
“Because I thought I was holding my own until I landed in the emergency room due to stress.”
“You decided to resign?” he asked, stating the obvious.
She was very quiet; she sipped the Ketel One, then fished out an olive and munched on it.
“Nothing as tidy as that. I had a dear friend and mentor. I admit, we might’ve been getting too close, but he said he was separated from his wife, that a divorce was pending. Then the wife came to see me at work. Did I mention this mentor was a partner in the restaurant? Owns many restaurants? She told me her husband sent her to tell me to go away quietly. There was a scene in the kitchen—it took about five minutes for everyone to know what I’d been accused of.” She paused for another sip. “Still,” she added, “the worst of it was that when I called him to ask why the hell he’d send his wife to tell me to go away, he never responded.” She turned her large blue eyes to Lief. “I kind of hoped the wife had been full of it. You know?”
Lief put his hand over hers and gave it a brief squeeze. “On top of everything, your heart was broken.”
“I guess so,” she admitted. “I should have known better. Now—how do I tell my sister that my boyfriend wasn’t my boyfriend? That the career I’ve been killing myself for I was literally killing myself for? And that I quit without notice and will be her uninvited houseguest indefinitely?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You seem to have the story down. I’m sure she’ll be very sympathetic.”
“Probably. But also very surprised. Jillian is the flighty one. I’m the stable one.”
“You know what, kid? You walked out on a bad situation. That sounds both intelligent and stable. Now you just need a little time to get on your feet.”
“You know what they say about getting out of the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat…” she said, shaking her head dismally. “I’ve become the cliché. What are you doing here anyway? In Virgin River?”
“Me?” he asked. “Just looking for a quieter place. And I like to fish and hunt. Made to order.”
Suddenly Jack was in front of them. “How are you two doing?”
“You know what? I think we’re doing great!” Kelly said. “This was just what I needed—a stiff drink and a little conversation. Amazing how much it helps.”
“You good, then?” Jack asked.
“I’ll have one more in a couple of minutes. And bring my friend Lief a beer on me. He’s a good listener.”
“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Dinner?”
“Not for me, but I’ll have some more nuts, thanks.” When Jack had turned away, she faced Lief again. “Quieter than?”
“Los Angeles. My wife died a couple of years ago and my daughter is still having a hard time of it. She really needed a fresh start and a slower pace. Well, so did I.”
Kelly looked stricken. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. That really puts things into perspective for me. Here I am whining about my nonboyfriend and a mean chef…”
He laughed at her. “You weren’t whining—sounds like a movie set. Lots of temper tantrums, scandal and dysfunction on the set.”
“You’re an actor?”
“Nope. I built sets for years and now I do some writing,” he said. “I don’t have to spend much time on-set, but when I do it’s usually pretty nuts and I always think about how glad I am that I don’t do it all the time.”
Their new drinks arrived. “How’d you manage working in that environment, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Cotton in the