Second Chance Spicy

Chapter 1

Lucas

 I love La Maison de la Rose des Montagnes. The beautiful old bed and breakfast has been one of my favorite places ever since I was a kid growing up here in Pine Ridge.

I stride in, smiling at the plush interior, and pause at the reception desk. Just below the desk line, I can see the top of someone's head.

"Mike!"

I smile as the head jerks forward with a thump.

"Dang." Mike stands and rubs his forehead.

"Geez, man. You okay?"

"Lucas, you still have a voice like a thunderclap. I could hear your play calls over the band, the cheerleaders, and Tom Hesster in the stands with the megaphone."

Mike, the sometimes-bellhop, sometimes-prep-chef of La Maison and the adjoining restaurant, was my best receiver when I was the quarterback for the Pine Ridge Trailblazers.

"What are you doing down there anyway?" I lean over the counter, looking at all the connections and cables for the front desk's computer system pulled out. "Yikes. Adding IT to your list of job titles?"

Mike sighs and rolls his eyes heavenward.

"While you're at it," I say. "Can you add boss-finder to the list? I'm looking for Madame Dubois."

"Who’s asking?"

A cheerful voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see Madame Dubois, resplendent in a long caftan and coming down the stairs.

"You're in for it now," Mike says before returning to his project.

"Madame Dubois, how is it possible you look younger?"

She opens her arms wide and beams at me. "Come give me a hug, stranger!"

I pick her up in a bear hug and twirl her off the stairs. She looks up at me and touches her hair.

"Remind me to get swept up in the strong arms of a fit young man more often! Now, let me look at you." She takes a step back, nodding her approval.

"You've grown into a handsome, sophisticated man, Lucas."

I grin cockily. "Oh, go on, Madame Dubois."

Growing up, she'd been a mysterious, cool older woman, and her epic property had been the go-to for every big occasion meal. Birthdays, graduations, I'd even taken my first serious girlfriend, Zara Rhodes, here on our first date.

The memory of a young Zara smiling at me over our table in the restaurant still ranks as one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I briefly find myself lost recalling her warm smile, dark skin, and curly black hair.

A thump and a muffled curse from the reception desk bring me back to the present. Madame Dubois raises her eyebrows and threads her arm through mine.

"Let's leave him alone, shall we?" She guides me toward the bar. "I hear you've been under my roof for two days now and haven't had a drink with me."

I shake my head at her. "You know I've been trying. You're just too in demand."

"It's true. Being the boss is a ... No, I cannot lie. It's the best."

I laugh and let her lead me to the bar, where she goes behind the counter and gestures at the bottles behind her.

"What'll you have? On me."

"Whatever you're drinking, if you'll join me."

She gets out two glasses and pours us each a finger of Johnny Walker Blue.         

She's as bad-ass as I remember, I think happily.

"Here's to that project I hear you've got going," she says. "May it make you a local again."

I smile and clink glasses. "Here's to you."

We both take sips and smile at each other.

"Now what in the world possessed you to buy those two creaky Victorians down in town? They're gonna take almost as much work as this place."

"I meant to compliment you on the successful remodel," I say. "This place looks great."

"Thank you. Avoiding the question?"

"Not at all! I mean, property development is kind of what I do."

"Uh-huh."

"And you know I've always thought of Pine Ridge as home." 

I told myself I was keeping an eye on property here for professional purposes, but when the listings came up, it was as if there were no decisions to be made. I had to have them. I had to at least get my foot in the door of the place I grew up. 

I still don’t know if they’re going to be the highlight of my real estate career, but who cares? I’ve made myself rich enough over the years to throw a few bucks away on a pet project, I figure. 

"So you'll be moving back?"

"I'm not ready for commitment just yet."

"We'll see about that," she says, looking over my head at something happening in the dining room. "Excuse me, dear. Looks like I need to fill some water glasses."

I pull out my phone and open my pictures of the Victorian houses that are now mine. Seeing them in person these last few days was a little sobering. They were in worse condition than I'd thought.

If I'm being honest with myself, however, I'm not as into my usual fast-turnover style for these. I know the sensible thing is to just put money into the parts of the house that are going to drive up the resale value and then sell it off to someone else at a profit. I just don’t know if I’m going to be sensible. 

I loved the buildings as a kid, and today, walking around their half-gutted interiors, I found I wanted to give them the love they deserve. I want to make them beautiful again.

When we were kids, the elderly owners would decorate them for Halloween and allow the local community center to do a fund drive by setting up a haunted house on the grounds.

Zara and I had gone every year of high school, me being brave and standing tall as she screamed and clung to me. One year, our friend Tom's dad had jumped out at me from a place I didn't anticipate. and I'd responded by giving him a black eye while throwing myself over Zara.

I felt terrible about it, but Mr. Hesster had laughed – eventually. And Zara thought it was romantic. I got a lot of love that night, so in my teenage mind, it worked out okay.

I sip my drink, smiling at the memories despite myself, and put down my phone. I let my eyes wander up to the large mirror over the bar, looking toward the various tables in the restaurant where Zara and I once sat, holding hands over the dishes.

Instead of happy memories, however, I notice a pair of angry eyes fixed on me. I look over.

There’s a familiar Black man seated two places down. Though I recognize him right away, I also notice he is glaring, his lip curled in obvious dislike. 

"Andre," I say in surprise.

I turn to look at him fully. He is still good-looking and meticulously dressed. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same question," he says.

I shrug. "Business. I'm staying here because it's always been my favorite place in Pine Ridge. Your turn."

"Family reunion," he grunts. He leans forward toward me, his voice lowering. "You stay away from Zara, understand?"

"Zara's here?"

I can't help it. I smile a huge, goofy smile of delight. I don't believe in fate, but if I did, I might say the fact that she's been on my mind was a sign she was going to be brought back into my life. A preparation of sorts.

I'm so caught up that I don't notice Andre is getting angry.

"I'm serious," he says. "She's taken, and you're the last thing she needs."

"She's married?" I feel my inner balloon start to deflate.

"Well, no."

"Dating someone, then?"

He hesitates.

The balloon expands again, and I scoff at him. "Whatever, man," I say, turning back to the bar. "I appreciate you being a good big brother. Let me buy you a drink."

"I'm leaving." He gets up and pauses behind me, leaving a confused bartender staring after him. "I'm serious, Wright. Stay away."

"Okay, tough guy," I say, swallowing the rising anger. I don't take threats well. Never have. "It was nice to see you again, too."

I pick up my phone and begin to scroll through the house pictures again. I hear him huff and stalk away toward the staircase and the rooms.

I exhale, letting the angry energy drain from my body. Then, when I'm sure he's gone, I look up in the mirror and notice Madame Dubois watching me from across the cafe. I smile and lift my glass. She beams back.

I can feel her approval from across the restaurant. She, along with anyone who knew me as a kid, knows a moment where I manage to keep my cool and be the bigger guy is a big deal for me.

Andre has always been protective of his little sister, and I admire him for that. But no amount of warning me off can stop me from being excited.

Zara is here, in this hotel.

True, it's a big enough place. And if the rest of Zara's family feels like Andre, they'll do their best to keep us apart.

Fortunately, I have Madame Dubois on my side.