Local Flavour: Bitter Harvest (Book 4)

Chapter 1

Six months earlier.

Lucy was late. It was typical of her, but Quinn didn't mind. It gave him more time to explore the Musée du quai Branly before dinner.

"On my way, see you soon," she texted with her signature xx. He smiled, put his phone away in his jacket pocket and headed towards the exhibit on North Africa he'd been wanting to explore. There were larger and more famous museums in Paris, but this gem was one of his favourites — complete with two exceptional restaurants: one in the centre of a lush garden and one on the roof terrace with a panoramic view of the city. There was still a half hour to go before their reservations at Les Ombres; on such a clear evening they'd have a full view of the city lights and the Eiffel Tower. It was going to be a good night.

The surprise trip to Paris was one of Quinn's better ideas. He hadn't seen Lucy this relaxed in a long time. Building a business from scratch wasn't easy, even for someone as talented as she was. Her star was on the rise and her business was winning awards and had a growing and prestigious client list, but it was taking a toll. She worked around the clock with client demands coming in night and day — as they were drifting to sleep, before breakfast, out for a walk with the dog, or cuddled up late at night in front of the fire. She took every call, text and email, knowing well that in the first years of starting a business, your time is not your own.

He understood completely, rising from the ranks of restaurant dishwasher to Michelin-starred chef and TV mogul. He was used to spending 200 days of the year at least travelling while managing a production company, hosting a variety of Restaurant Network shows and jumping on the line at one of his three famous restaurants before he sold up. He lived that way for years, not making any meaningful connections, living out of a suitcase with only occasional visits to his sparsely furnished condo in London that didn't even have a TV. He'd given all that up for a semi-retirement in Nova Scotia with Lucy, and didn't miss any part of his old life.

Who was he kidding? There was no life before Lucy.

Now each day began and ended with her and Bish, their ill-behaved chocolate lab. He was happily married and in love, co-running a gastropub and brewery in rural Nova Scotia with his newfound good friends in a community that had become his home. He felt both alive and more settled than any other time in his life, exactly where and with whom he was meant to be.

She arrived then as if conjured by his thoughts, striding towards him in her scarlet Laboutin heels. How she could walk in those things he would never understand but she did, with confidence. As she came towards him heads turned, and she noted their subtle stares with a sly, sexy smile. She was wearing a black dress, low cut and sexy, the silk skirt swirling around her long, shapely legs.

Over the past year she'd lost a significant amount of weight, something she didn't mention often. It was a consequence of some changes she'd made to improve her mental health through running and eating well. After the trauma she suffered when her father died and she was nearly kidnapped a year later, she focused more energy on herself than she ever had. As a result, she was glowing; 'the best version of myself,' she would say.

Lucy was always beautiful, and he loved her deeply at any size, but now she was finally happy. When they first met, she was a bundle of nerves and insecurities. He was relieved the therapy was working, and she was learning to be a bit kinder to herself and less self-critical. She liked to say that she 'changed weight' instead of 'lost weight,' and he liked that. It was simply a change, one that didn't define her. She was still the same Lucy he fell in love with, only now she seemed to love herself a bit more.

The dress hugged her curves and now-tiny waist and she smiled broadly as she approached, her dark eyes warm and mischievous on his. He gave silent thanks once again for this woman who smashed into his life through the swinging door of a dirty kitchen and changed everything.

"You're late," he reminded her with a smile as she leaned on tiptoe to kiss him. Even with her sky-high heels, he still towered over her. "You're sexy," she whispered, giving his earlobe a nibble that sent shivers straight to his groin. "You're absolved," he said, kissing her full on the mouth as his hand grazed her breast. Now it was her turn to suppress a shudder of lust and he resisted the urge to skip dinner and take her straight back to the hotel.

She was flushed and giggling when she took his hand and started walking. "What have you been doing this afternoon?" she asked, steering him towards a display of textiles. "Isn't that beautiful?" Her gaze fell on an embroidered North African dress nearly 1,000 years old.

"Not much. Browsing bookstores, people watching at the café on the corner. I've been wandering around here for the better part of an hour." He kissed her hand.

"What did you get?" She gestured to the small plastic bag in his hand.

"Just an exhibition catalogue. I want to go over the collections in more detail."

"Of course you do," she said, wandering to a display of ancient jewellery. "Wow, look at that necklace. Gold and rubies, it's breathtaking. Did you ever consider being a university professor? You are brilliant, you know."

"It's a fertility goddess charm," he said, reading the small card. "And I don't know about brilliant," he said, standing beside her. "I love English and history, but I can't see myself going back to school for a PhD. Besides, I'm a chef, remember?"

"I know. But you've conquered that arena." She turned to put her arms around his neck. "You can do anything, you know. Absolutely anything."

He was touched by her confidence in him and struck once again by her ability to read his innermost thoughts. As much as he loved cooking, he had to admit that deep down he was getting bored with it as a career. Working in the gastropub was fun because he was running it with friends Marnie and Leon, but he didn't see himself working there long-term. He enjoyed writing and had two books on the best-seller list, but it wasn't exactly where he wanted to put his focus either.

Everything in his life was perfect, there was just something gnawing at him deep down — a feeling like there was a goal he hadn't achieved yet, but he had no idea what that was. He had more money than he could spend in several lifetimes, so that eliminated the push for the grind he had as a younger man. Maybe he was just getting older and spoiled by a generous life.

Lucy frowned and put a hand on his cheek. "No need to figure it all out right now. It's our last night in Paris. Forget about it for now and let's have dinner at this rooftop restaurant you've been raving so much about."

He covered her hand with his own larger one. "Then straight back to the hotel for dessert I hope?"

"Well, I am exhausted from an afternoon of shopping," she said, pressing herself into him. "But there's always time for dessert."