Page 3 of Buck (Diver Downeast #2)

Bobbie relished these kinds of busy days, even when things went wrong… Like with her second van breaking down. Luckily, the clients had back-up, and were sending it over.

Crisis averted .

At one point in time, sailing had been Bobbie’s only happy place, but she’d come to enjoy being a chef in charge of her own staff and catering business, which oddly, was thanks to her two brothers.

Previous to this gig, she’d been phoning it in for a long time, cooking for various restaurants in the area, bored out of her mind.

When Drew and Jeff suggested she go out on her own, and had actually helped her monetarily?

Well… Hell, yes . It had been a no-brainer.

She’d started Roberto’s , a play on her full name, Roberta, with her brothers supporting her new business as needed during its first years.

Their backing was an anomaly, for sure, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

And her sibs had put their money on a winning horse. They were now getting their initial investment back in spades. Roberto’s was so successful, they’d not only recouped their outlay, they were gleefully reaping their agreed upon twenty-percent of her profits.

Considering her success, and their part in it, Bobbie didn’t regret having to pay a single penny of it.

Since then, her brothers had started a business of their own; one that complimented hers, perfectly.

They brewed their own beer. It had been well received in the area, especially once she started offering it on her menus.

She’d tried it, and hadn’t cared for the overly hoppy flavor, but each to their own.

Her brothers didn’t work hard at their venture, but when had they ever? They only made enough to supply her with a dozen cases per month.

Bobbie, on the other hand, ran her feet off from Thursday to Sunday; planning, buying and cooking for events.

Then came Mondays.

Ahhh .

That was Bobbie’s favorite day of the week.

Lucky her.

She had a rich client in New Brunswick—procured by her brothers early last year—who paid her generously to feed him and whatever guests he was entertaining, on Tuesdays.

She made the very relaxing eight to ten-hour sail north every Monday, weather permitting, spent the following day in the man’s state of the art kitchen creating over-the-top masterpieces, fed his party that night, then took the identical voyage home on Wednesday.

Those two days of sailing—even broken up by one day of hard work—were her solace. Her much-needed decompression time.

And because of her affinity for the ocean, she loved her schedule.

Right now, however, she had to stop daydreaming about Monday and focus on the work at hand.

“Manny. Watch that sauce,” she cautioned one of her cooks. “It looks like it’s about to boil, and we don’t want it to curdle.” She spun in place. “Ruthanne, no, not the green and white plates, the clients picked the cream ones with the blue trim.”

“Sorry, boss.” Ruthanne turned around and went back, her arms full, to the storage area to swap things out.

Sometimes, Bobbie felt like she needed to have eyes in the back of her head so nothing could get by her, but—knock on wood—so far in the five years she’d been in business, she’d had no major catastrophes.

She was a little nervous for this gig, however, and understandably so.

This weekend she’d be working for the Sothards.

She hadn’t had anything to do with the Sothard family for over fifteen years.

And the last interaction had been…contentious, to say the least. Still, they’d called her, so they must have felt it was time to see if Bobbie would put old grudges to rest, and…

Yes . Bobbie decided she was more than willing.

She’d always adored Ellen Sothard, after all, and was very aware that the woman normally did all her own parties.

That’s why Bobbie felt honored that Ellen had asked her to take care of not only the rehearsal dinner tonight, but the wedding feast tomorrow evening, and Sunday’s nearly all-day brunch.

Bobbie would make them all perfect.

Her only trepidation was that she might see him .

Correction. She probably would see him. There was no way, even as an active Coast Guardsman, that he’d miss his brother’s wedding.

Buck …

Back in the day, at the Vo Tech they’d both attended, she’d had the biggest crush on Buck Sothard, and she thought it had been reciprocated.

They’d shared a few classes, and had both been part of the sailing club.

They’d danced around each other and flirted on and off for much of their senior year until…

Nope . There was no need to go there. That chapter was over-and-done. Put to bed.

She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned about what kind of guy he was.

Her brothers—older than her by eight and ten years respectively—had cautioned her to stay away from Buck; that he was trouble.

But she hadn’t listened because, literally, her brothers had, at the time, scared her away from any number of would-be boyfriends, and she’d thought herself smarter than them where Buck was concerned.

How wrong she’d been.

And since then…

She hadn’t had much time to date, but every now and then she got an itch to test the waters.

It seemed, however, that each time she became remotely interested in a man she’d met at one of the parties she catered, Drew or Jeff would dig up dirt on the would-be suiter and scare either him or Bobbie away.

That pattern of behavior was getting old.

Not every guy could be up to no good.

Bobbie had suspected for a long time that her brothers were sabotaging her love life on purpose. But to what end? As hard as she pondered things, she couldn’t figure out what it would get them to keep her single.

When she’d lived in the family homestead after their parents had divorced then unexpectedly left town, she’d cooked and cleaned for her lazy sibs, and could understand those motives for wanting her around.

But just this year she’d finally put her foot down at mothering them any longer, and had moved into her own little apartment six months ago.

Yet, they still kept a heavy thumb on her romantic leanings.

Which sucked. She hadn’t had sex in over two years, and not only was her libido suffering, her biological clock was ticking. At thirty-three, she always thought she’d be married with a couple of kids by now. Instead, all her efforts went into cooking and sailing.

Not a bad life, but Bobbie yearned for more; someone close. Someone with whom she could dream. A person who really valued and listened to her as an individual, not as a boss or a meal ticket

Bobbie sighed. Pickings were slim in town, where everyone had, for all intents and purposes, grown up together and knew too much about each other.

Her only hopes were out-of-town guests at a function, but then the logistics of how and when to see each other would eventually rear its ugly head.

Not that she’d even been given a chance to get too far with any guy. Her brothers made sure of that.

One of her workers shuffled aside a bag of clams that had come out of the walk-in a few minutes earlier.

“Melo, can you make sure those are all still alive, please?” Bobbie asked. “They got delivered last night, and I didn’t have time to check them. Give them each a poke and throw out any that look suspect.”

“You got it, chef.”

Melo was her second in command at functions, as well as her friend and confidant.

Bobbie couldn’t ask for a better right-hand woman.

Melo went above and beyond to help make sure everything ran smoothly both in the kitchen and on the floor, and lent an ear to Bobbie when Bobbie needed to vent.

She worked hard, while also raising her three young children with her husband, Bill.

Such a nice family, and the way they handled co-parenting allowed them both to pursue their careers.

Melo worked Thursday during the day, then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at functions, while Bill, employed as a finish carpenter for a big shop in town, put in a solid Monday through Wednesday, then juggled the rest of his schedule with his wife’s.

They had very little free time together, but their wee ones always had a loving parent at hand.

Bobbie felt blessed to have Mel as her employee. She actually felt great about all her employees.

She currently had fourteen part time staff on her payroll; three in the back of the house, like her, and eleven up front. In general, things ran like clockwork.

Tonight’s menu would be steak, lobster, and mashed potatoes, with huge colorful bowls of corn on the cob and steamed clams gracing every table.

Salads, along with cheese and crackers, would be first nibbles.

And dessert? Lasts would be parfaits that each guest would special order from a vintage looking, collapsible ice-cream stand that Bill had constructed just for her. It was always a huge hit.

“Thirty minutes until we need to be on the road, people,” Bobbie announced, wiping her hands on her apron. She’d just finished cutting up the fruit garnishes that would grace each plate.

The prep was complete, and once they got to the Sothard homestead, Bobbie would set up her grills and seafood steamers where she’d fresh-cook the key items for the feast. The weather was cooperating, but a couple of her crew would still erect a tent over the cooking stations, just in case mother nature had a change of heart.

“Have we seen that volunteer van yet?” Bobbie asked one of her servers who was edging past her, juggling several plastic containers. Devid was a ball-buster, but a master at Jenga-fitting everything they needed into their vehicles.

“It just pulled up. I’ll make sure it’s clean before we start putting stuff in it.”

“Thanks, Devid. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Pull your hair out? Swear even more than you do? Load all the food in upside-down?” he quipped, still moving.

“Hire someone who isn’t such a smart-ass?” she countered with a laugh.

When Devid waved a friendly middle finger in her direction, her grin wouldn’t quit. Damn. She loved her crew.

She was still chuckling when a tall figure appeared in the doorway through which Devid had just left. He was backlit by the sun that sat low in the sky, but it had to be the van driver. Bobbie walked a few steps forward. “You must be the white knight?—?”

Bobbie blinked. She stumbled to a halt. Her gorge rose in her throat and she suddenly felt like throwing up. It couldn’t be.

Buck.

His mouth dropped open.

“Bobbie. Shit. I didn’t know. I…”

Buck seemed as shocked as she felt; a blast from the past clearly blindsiding both of them.

“It’s fine.” Bobbie swallowed bile and pinned her professional mask into place, her tone becoming clipped as she squared her shoulders. “Thanks for coming to the rescue. My crew should have things loaded up within the next ten minutes if you want to wait outside in your vehicle.”

Hint, hint .

Bobbie did not want Buck Sothard around while she dotted her I’s and crossed her T’s for the weekend’s events. Hell, she didn’t want him around at all. He was a goddamned snake. Or at least he had been. And as far as she was concerned, once a snake, always a snake.

“Listen,” he began. “Now might not be the time, but?—”

“You’re right. It’s not,” Bobbie cut him off sharply. “And it never will be. We have nothing to say to each other, and I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

There . She’d said it professionally, with only the slightest bit of vitriol in her tone that… Seriously? It couldn’t be helped.

Buck scowled, however, not slinking away as she’d hoped.

“I actually have quite a lot to say to you,” he countered.

“But you are correct. Now isn’t the time.

I promise I won’t get in your way tonight or this weekend while you’re doing your job, but Bobbie, once your business with my family is complete, I will be finding you for a talk.

We need to have a conversation that’s long overdue. ”

Bobbie wasn’t going to say aye or nay to that.

Let him stew in his “wanting forgiveness”, which is what she assumed he was after.

He’d never get that from her, and if he came looking for her on Monday?

Oh well . She’d already be long gone. Out to sea in her beautiful pea-green boat.

Then hopefully, by the time she got in on Wednesday night, he’d be back on his Coast Guard cutter, far, far away.

Bye, bye.

Bobbie turned on her heel, going back to giving orders and sorting problems. She purposely ignored Buck until he finally got the hint and stomped outside.

Only then did she draw a full breath into her lungs.

Total suckage .

Why, oh why had the damned man aged so well?

The gangly, cute boy she’d once known had turned into a sinfully handsome muscled power-house.

Dark, military cut hair, piercing mahogany eyes, broad across the shoulders and trim of waist. It was all sigh-worthy.

But the rest of him? Whew. Bobbie might hate the man, but she wasn’t dead.

His brawny thighs filled out his jeans in an eye-popping way, and that fine, Sothard ass that all his brothers sported, looked especially good as he’d turned to go.

And why was she noticing? Bobbie berated herself. The last thing she should be checking out were his attributes, but…

Her lady-parts, long dormant, were twitching; sitting up and taking notice.

Oh, hell no.

Down girl. Down.

There was no way she was going to let herself be attracted to that asshole again.