Chapter 9 #2
“Exactly my thinking. There’s a gap in the market for approachable fine dining.” She pulled out her keys, then seemed to reconsider whatever she’d been about to say. “Do you have time now? To look at the space?”
The question sent unexpected heat through my chest. “Absolutely.”
She led me back to the front entrance, fumbling slightly with the sticky lock before pushing the door open. The interior was dim, afternoon light filtering through dusty windows to reveal a space that was actually in far better condition than the exterior had suggested.
“This was Micah’s original bakery,” Talia explained, flipping on the overhead lights. “Before he expanded into the bigger location last year. He’s been renting it out for storage, but most of the commercial kitchen equipment is still here.”
I moved deeper into the space, my assessment shifting rapidly as I took in the details.
The front area was modest but well-proportioned, with original hardwood floors that needed refinishing but were structurally sound.
Through an archway, I could see into the commercial kitchen, where stainless steel work surfaces and what looked like professional-grade appliances sat waiting under a layer of dust.
“This is much better than I expected,” I said, running my hand along one of the prep counters. The equipment was dated but maintained, the kind of setup that would cost tens of thousands to install from scratch. “The exterior made it look like the place was falling apart.”
“The building owner hasn’t kept up with maintenance,” Talia said, hovering near the kitchen entrance. “But Micah took good care of the interior when he was here. Most of the equipment still works, or at least it did when he moved out.”
I opened the industrial refrigerator, checking the seals and interior condition. “When was the last time this was serviced?”
“About six months ago, according to the records Micah left me.” She pulled out her phone, scrolling through what looked like maintenance logs. “He kept everything documented.”
“Smart.” I moved to examine the range and ovens, noting the commercial ventilation system overhead. “This hood and vent setup alone would cost twenty thousand to install new. If it’s still functional and passes inspection, you’ve just saved a fortune.”
Her face lit up with cautious hope. “So the contractor estimates might be too high?”
“Let me see them.”
She retrieved a folder from her car and handed it over.
I flipped through the quotes, my irritation growing with each page.
“These contractors are treating this like a complete gut renovation. They’re quoting you for all new kitchen equipment, full electrical upgrades, structural reinforcement you definitely don’t need. ”
“But the building inspector said I needed permits for renovations.”
“You need permits for modifications and to bring certain systems up to current code for commercial food service,” I clarified, pulling out my phone to make notes.
“But that’s very different from starting from scratch.
This equipment just needs inspection and certification, not replacement.
The electrical might need some upgrades to handle additional load, but the infrastructure is already commercial-grade. ”
She moved closer, studying the estimates with new understanding. “So they were trying to overcharge me?”
“I’d say they were pricing for the project they wanted rather than the project you need.
” I gestured around the kitchen. “This space was a functioning commercial bakery less than a year ago. Your primary expenses should be inspection fees, minor upgrades to meet health department requirements for your specific food service type, and cosmetic work in the dining area.”
“How minor are we talking?”
I walked through the kitchen systematically, cataloging what I saw.
“The plumbing looks solid. You’ll want a licensed plumber to inspect and certify it, but I’m not seeing any obvious issues.
Electrical should get a load analysis to make sure it can handle your equipment needs, might need a few additional circuits.
The ventilation system needs professional cleaning and inspection, but the infrastructure is there. ”
“And the dining area?”
We moved back into the front space. The walls needed fresh paint, the floors needed refinishing, and the front windows could use some attention, but these were cosmetic issues rather than structural problems.
“Paint, flooring, maybe some new light fixtures to brighten the space. You’ll need tables and chairs, obviously, but those are furnishings rather than construction costs.
” I pulled up a calculator app. “Based on what I’m seeing, I’d estimate thirty to forty percent of what these contractors quoted.
Maybe less if you’re willing to do some of the cosmetic work yourself. ”
“Thirty percent?” Her voice had gone breathless. “That’s the difference between opening in six months and opening next month.”
The timeline surprised me. “You could be ready that quickly?”
“If the equipment is already here and functional, if I only need inspections and minor upgrades instead of full renovations.” She was looking around the space with new eyes, and I could see her mental calculations shifting from impossible to achievable.
“I’d still need to hire licensed contractors for anything that requires permits, but the cosmetic work I could handle.
I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty and doing some of the work myself. ”
I found myself smiling at her enthusiasm.
“Then let’s make sure we do this right. I can help you find inspectors who’ll give you honest assessments rather than trying to upsell you on unnecessary work.
We’ll get the equipment certified, identify any real code compliance issues, and create a realistic timeline for opening. ”
“Cassian.” She waited until I looked at her, and the intensity in her hazel eyes made my breath catch. “Why are you really doing this?”
The honest answer was too complicated and too revealing for someone I’d met fifteen minutes ago.
Because I’d been watching her from a distance for weeks.
Because her smile made me forget I was supposed to be in exile.
Because the way she moved through the world with careful grace and hard-won strength made me want to give her every good thing I could possibly provide.
“Because you’re trying to build something good,” I said instead, which was at least partially true. “And because I have skills that could help. And maybe because I’ve spent too long tearing things down instead of building them up.”
She studied my face like she was looking for deception, for the angle I must be working, for whatever threat I represented. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because some of the wariness in her expression eased.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s figure out how to make this work.”
The next hour disappeared into detailed discussion of permits and inspections, equipment certification and code compliance.
Talia proved to have done extensive research despite her confusion with the contractor quotes, asking intelligent questions that revealed both her professional competence and her determination to understand every aspect of her business.
I found myself explaining concepts more thoroughly than necessary, partially because she seemed genuinely interested and partially because it gave me reasons to stay close, to catch occasional traces of her scent, to watch the way her face lit up when something clicked into understanding.
“The health department inspection will focus primarily on your food safety protocols and equipment functionality,” I explained, sketching a rough diagram on the back of one of her permits.
“They’ll want to see proper separation between raw and cooked food prep areas, adequate refrigeration and hot holding capabilities, and documentation that your equipment has been professionally serviced. ”
She leaned over to study my sketch, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “How do you know so much about restaurant regulations?”
“My family’s development projects included several mixed-use buildings with commercial food service.” I added another detail to the sketch. “I spent more time than I’d like to remember in meetings with health inspectors and commercial kitchen designers.”
“And now you’re using that knowledge to help me instead of building resorts that nobody asked for.” There was warmth in her voice, something that might have been approval or appreciation.
“Better use of my skills,” I agreed.
She straightened, putting some distance between us that felt like loss. “I should probably let you go. I’ve taken up enough of your afternoon.”
I glanced at my phone and was surprised to see it was nearly six. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
“Time flies when you’re discovering your renovation costs are seventy percent lower than you thought,” she said, and I caught genuine happiness in her smile.
“Apparently so.” I gathered the papers we’d been working with, organizing them back into logical order. “I’ll reach out to some inspectors I know, get you names of people who’ll give honest assessments. Can I call you in a few days with referrals?”
She hesitated, and I could see her weighing trust against need, caution against opportunity. “You really don’t want anything in return? Just a testimonial?”
I want your phone number. I want reasons to see you again. I want to know what makes you smile like that, what brought you to Hollow Haven, what you taste like when you kiss someone you’re attracted to.
“Just a testimonial,” I said aloud, keeping my expression professional despite the heat pooling in my chest.
She pulled out her phone. “What’s your number?”
I gave it to her, watching as she created a new contact with my information. When my phone buzzed a moment later with a text containing just her name, I felt something settle into place that I hadn’t realized was misaligned.
“Now you have mine too,” she said. “In case you need to ask questions about the space or the equipment.”
“Or in case you need help interpreting contractor quotes that are wildly inflated,” I added.
Her smile was genuine this time, unguarded and warm. “Thank you, Cassian. For the help, for the advice, for not running away screaming when you saw what I was dealing with.”
“It was nothing.” I moved toward the door, reluctant to leave but aware that prolonging this first meeting might push against whatever boundaries she was carefully maintaining. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Outside, the evening air felt cool after the warmth of the bistro space. I walked to my car with her scent still lingering in my awareness, vanilla and honey mixed with something uniquely hers that made every instinct I possessed want to turn around and find reasons to stay.
Talia Quinn was more than just a beautiful omega, she was easy to spend time with, the type of person I would give anything to get to know better.
And now I had a legitimate reason to spend time helping her build something beautiful.
Better yet, I’d just saved her tens of thousands of dollars and moved her timeline from impossible to achievable.
For the first time since arriving in Hollow Haven, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Like maybe everything I’d been though was actually worth it.
For the first time since arriving in Hollow Haven, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.