Chapter 1.
Anabel Cason was the toast of all the bachelors in Ashford Bay. Every man who laid eyes on her wanted a chance, a moment, an opportunity to claim her as his own. She was the kind of woman who left a trail of admiration in her wake, voluptuous, radiant, very friendly, and effortlessly captivating.
Her presence commanded attention. When she entered a room, conversations faltered, eyes lingered, and hearts quickened. Men saw her as a vision of perfection, an enchantress wrapped in beauty and confidence. Yet, beneath the admiration lay something more, a quiet yearning, a desire not just to possess her, but to be worthy of her. But Anabel was not easily won. She knew the difference between infatuation and love, between lustful glances and genuine devotion. Many had tried, and many had failed, for she was not a woman who gave in to mere flattery. She demanded something real, something lasting, something more than just fleeting admiration, A relationship that would be stronger than and larger than life.
She was twenty-four, tall, beautiful, and curvaceous. Women envied her figure, while men pursued her relentlessly, eager for a chance to claim her. Some spoke of love, but she knew better, most only craved the thrill of possession. Among them, two had tried the hardest, charming, persistent, and arrogant in their belief that no woman could resist them. They showered her with extravagant gifts, whispered sweet lies, and made grand promises of devotion. Yet beneath their polished words lurked a familiar hunger, one that saw her as a conquest rather than a partner. But Anabel was no ordinary prize, she was a woman of worth, and she would never settle for less.
But they had failed.
Her body was a masterpiece, sculpted with generous curves that only added to her allure, a cinched waist, full hips, and a walk that made men stop mid-sentence. Her golden skin glowed under the sun, and her thick, cascading curls framed a face that was both delicate and striking. But it was her eyes that held the real power, dark pools of mystery that made men wonder, made them dream, made them want.
She was used to the attention. It followed her like a shadow, lingering in stolen glances, whispered desires, and bold attempts to claim what no man had yet possessed. But Anabel was no fool. She had seen what men wanted, knew the hunger that flickered behind their polished smiles.
Two had come dangerously close. Handsome, charming, and persistent, they had spoken sweet words and made grand promises, all in the hope of one thing, to get her into bed. They masked their desires with declarations of love, acting as if their passion meant something deeper. But Anabel had learned to see through the pretense. They didn't want her heart. They wanted to conquer, to boast, to say they had been with the woman every man wanted.
But she had made a vow.
No man would have her unless he was willing to wait. She would not be another fleeting indulgence, another name whispered in taverns and social circles. Love, to her, was sacred, something meant to last beyond the heat of the moment.
And then came Johnny.
From the start, he was different. He watched her with the same admiration as the others, but there was something more, something deeper. He didn't try to charm his way into her life with rehearsed words or empty flattery. He was patient. Steady.
One evening, as they stood beneath the moonlit sky, she had given him her truth.
"If you want me," she had said, her voice unwavering, "then you'll have to wait until marriage."
She had expected hesitation, perhaps even an attempt to change her mind.
But Johnny had only smiled.
"Then I'll wait."
Three simple words.
For the first time, Anabel allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she had found something real.
Yet life had taught her that love was never the only thing that defined a person. Duty, responsibility, these mattered too.
Her mother had taught her that.
Martha Cason had been more than just a mother, she had been a legend in Ashford Bay, a master chef whose hands created meals that drew people from far and wide. Her eatery, Cason's Kitchen, was more than just a place to eat; it was a sanctuary, a gathering place where laughter mingled with the scent of simmering spices, where the air was always thick with the promise of something delicious.
Everyone had loved Martha, her warmth, her skill, and her way of making even strangers feel like family. She had been the soul of Ashford Bay, her laughter as rich as her cooking. Her hands crafted meals that brought people together, turning ordinary moments into cherished memories. When she passed, the heart of Ashford Bay dimmed, the air thick with sorrow. The scent of her famous dishes lingered in the walls of Cason's Kitchen, a bittersweet reminder of what was lost. Though life moved on, an undeniable void remained, one that only love, tradition, and remembrance could ever hope to fill.
But Anabel refused to let it fade entirely.
Now, the kitchen belonged to her.
Every morning, she rose before the sun, tying her mother's apron around her waist, feeling the weight of the legacy she carried. The sizzle of frying onions, the rich aroma of slow-cooked meats, the bubbling laughter of customers, it was all hers now. The responsibility, the reputation, the expectation to be just as great as the woman before her.
And she would be.
As the doors of Cason's Kitchen swung open for another bustling evening, Anabel wiped her hands on her apron and cast one last glance at her mother's old portrait hanging by the counter. A silent promise passed through her heart.
She would honor her mother's name.
She would make sure Ashford Bay never forgot the magic of Martha Cason's food.
And she would carve out her own legacy, one that would endure, just like the vow she had made.