A Sweet Mess - Jayci Lee Page 0,38

of the hill, but Aria had apparently highjacked his room. Lucien, of course, couldn’t refuse Aria anything, even if it meant throwing Landon to the wolves.

When Aubrey cocked her head at him, he forced a smile. “We’ve been friends for years. Lucien owns Le Ciel vineyard and a winery in San Miguel. He recently had this villa built to use as a luxury bed-and-breakfast and an additional tasting room in Bosque Verde. When I mentioned you needed a place to stay with a full kitchen, he insisted you stay here.”

“I wish I had friends who could lend me their fancy villas at the drop of a hat. I only get free beer.” She snorted at her own joke.

“Free craft beer of the highest caliber. You have nothing to complain about.”

“You’re right. Tara spoils me.” She sighed happily.

He chopped chives, whisked up eggs, and flipped omelets like he’d been unchained. The joy. The freedom. It all flowed back to him. After a few minutes, he noticed the quiet stillness in the kitchen. Aubrey hadn’t stirred or spoken while he cooked.

“Is that why you haven’t followed your dream and opened your own restaurant?” she murmured as though she was thinking out loud, her gaze far away.

“Is what why?” Landon wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Her lashes fluttered, and she focused her brown eyes on him.

“You didn’t want to turn something you love so much into the dreaded four-letter word—work.”

Landon’s hands stilled at her words. Something you love so much. She saw so much of him in something as inconsequential as tossing together an omelet. He couldn’t decide whether he felt seen or exposed.

“People say when something you enjoy becomes your full-time job, the joy gets sucked out of it.”

“You may be onto something,” he said, avoiding her question.

“Well, those people don’t know diddly-squat. Nothing could take away your love for cooking as long as you don’t lose sight of what’s important. Every time you cook, you have to remember you’re nourishing people. Making them happy.” She scrunched her nose as though searching for the right words. “If you cook for your customers with that in mind, then your love for cooking won’t be stifled. Work only becomes a vile word when your goals change to money or fame or whatever else the world entices you with.”

Even family.

He’d had to give up his dream—he’d had no other choice. Money and fame were never part of his goals, but life had stifled his love of cooking. He flinched as flickers of resentment against his family wove through his thoughts. No. His mother and Seth were not to blame for his choices. It was his decision, and he refused to regret it.

“I’m completely humbled, Ms. Choi. You truly are full of wise, grown-up advice.” Hurt flashed in her eyes at his cynicism before she blinked it away. Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?

Aubrey winked with forced humor. “You’re learning, Grasshopper.”

Her gentle teasing chastised him more effectively than a long lecture. Aubrey really was the grown-up between them. He opened his mouth to apologize for being a dick, but she wasn’t done with him.

“Why did you stop cooking, Landon?” Her wide, calm eyes bored into his soul.

“We, my family, immigrated to the States when I was three. My father wanted more for his family.” He swallowed, trying to hold his words back, but he couldn’t stop the truth from spilling over. “A few years later, my parents bought a small house with a backyard. It had a big, sturdy tree to one side where my dad hung a swing. I spent all day in that backyard, becoming permanently muddy and scruffy. Then my little brother came along, and my life was perfect.”

“You had a beautiful childhood.” Aubrey waited for him to continue, wearing a wistful smile. She didn’t seem to mind that his response didn’t answer her question, and she realized he had more to say.

Landon brought out a bottle of chilled chardonnay and raised it in question. Aubrey shook her head and pointed at her sparkling water. He poured himself a glass while he gathered his thoughts.

“We had everything we needed, but my dad still wanted more. He dreamed up one scheme after another. ‘To hit it big,’ he’d say. Whatever he did, right or wrong, I hero-worshipped him. He was this strong, handsome man with faraway eyes and a booming voice filled with promises. I thought he made the world go around. My world, at least.” Landon twirled his wineglass