15. Love Me Tender （But Maybe Skip the Singing）
15
LOVE ME TENDER (BUT MAYBE SKIP THE SINGING)
CONNOR
A week after the kitchen incident (as I've started calling it in my head), Seattle's April weather has decided to skip straight to summer. The kind of unseasonable warmth that makes board meetings feel like medieval torture, especially when you can't stop thinking about how your PR executive looks in that pencil skirt.
"Connor?" My father's voice cuts through my completely unprofessional thoughts. "The Q2 projections?"
"Right here." I fumble with my tablet, nearly knocking over my water. "Just, uh... one second."
Harrison's eyes narrow. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."
Because I am distracted. Because a week ago, I had Ariana Bristol in my arms, and now all I can think about is getting her back there.
Since then, work has been our only outlet together, and honestly? That’s getting old. Real quick.
"I'm fine." I pull up the projections. "Just... reviewing the numbers. "
"The ones you were supposed to have memorized?" He checks his watch. "Perhaps if you spent less time at dance lessons?—"
"The numbers are fine, Dad." I straighten my tie, ignoring the knowing looks from the other board members. "Now, about the cloud optimization algorithm..."
Two hours later, I escape to The Summit's rooftop deck, where Luke, Cal, and Grayson are supposedly meeting me to plan Alex's bachelor party. Though given the suspicious number of texts they've been exchanging, I'm starting to think this is a setup.
"There he is!" Grayson waves from a suspiciously well-decorated corner of the deck. "Our favorite accidental husband!"
Definitely a setup.
"Whatever this is," I say, approaching cautiously, "I don't have time for it."
"No time for your own yacht christening?" Luke grins, pushing his glasses higher. "That hurts, man."
I stop. "My what now?"
"Your yacht!" Grayson spreads his arms. "Well, technically it's still our yacht. But since Alex is getting married next month, and I'm proposing to Roz next week..."
"Which means you're officially the last bachelor standing," Cal adds, looking far too pleased. "Unless, of course, there's something you'd like to tell us about a certain Vegas incident?"
"That wasn't—" I start, then actually look around.
They've decorated the deck to look like a yacht club threw up on it. Complete with those little anchor decorations and what appears to be a "Congratulations on Your Accidental Marriage!" banner.
"I hate all of you."
"No you don't." Grayson hands me a glass of something that definitely isn't board-meeting appropriate. "Now, about that Elvis chapel video... "
"There is no video."
"That's not what Alex says."
"Alex is a traitor who's about to have a very disappointing bachelor party."
"Speaking of disappointing," Luke cuts in, "how's that whole 'maintaining professional distance' thing working out?"
I take a large swallow of whatever's in my glass. "Perfectly fine."
"Really?" Cal raises one aristocratic eyebrow. "So that wasn't you I saw buying coffee at the overpriced place with that brunette? The one twenty minutes out of your way?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
"At 7 AM?"
"The morning market has good... produce."
"Produce." Luke snorts. "Is that some sort of code word the youngins are using now? I’m behind on the times.”
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really?" Grayson pulls out his phone. "So this security footage of you two in the conference room..."
I lunge for the phone, but he dances away, cackling.
"Delete that."
“No fucking way.”
"I will throw you off this building."
"Children," Cal sighs, "perhaps we could focus on the matter at hand? Namely, why our fearless leader is currently making heart eyes at his PR executive instead of preparing for the biggest IPO of his career?"
"I do not make heart eyes."
"You kind of do," Luke says. "It's actually pretty sweet. In a 'watching a former horn-dog discover emotions' kind of way."
“For fuck’s sake, I have never been a?—“
My phone buzzes.
ARIANA: So hypothetically.. .
ARIANA: If someone was trying to recreate La Famiglia’s famous lasagna...
ARIANA: And maybe set off their smoke alarm...
ARIANA: How mad would you be if that someone used your name to get the actual recipe?
"Oh god." I'm already heading for the door. "I have to go."
“What the hell, Reeves? We still have bachelor party plans to go over!" Grayson calls after me.
“Not to mention talking about that hot brunette you’re sneaking around with!” Luke adds.
"Or that video of you singing—!” Cal shouts.
I slam the door on their laughter, already texting back.
ME: Please tell me you didn't actually call the owner of La Famiglia and lie her recipe from her
ARIANA: Okay, I won't tell you that.
ARIANA: But in my defense, Dad really wanted the recipe.
ARIANA: And now the kitchen's maybe on fire?
ARIANA: Just a little fire though!
I'm in my car before I finish reading, already pulling up her father's address from her emergency contact database.
ME: On my way. And…try not to let your Dad touch anything else.
ARIANA: Too late.
ARIANA: He's convinced he can "fix it."
ARIANA: Update: He cannot fix it.
ARIANA: Another update: Lily's trying to help.
ARIANA: This was a mistake.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up to a modest craftsman in Queen Anne, just as someone throws open the front door, releasing a cloud of smoke.
"It's fine!" A woman who can only be Lily Bristol waves frantically. "Everything's fine! Just a small kitchen incident!"
I take the porch steps two at a time, following her inside to find what appears to be a war zone .
Flour covers every surface. Tomato sauce drips from at least two walls. And in the middle of it all, Ariana Bristol—my perfectly put-together PR executive—is wearing yoga pants and what appears to be half the ingredients list while attempting to wrestle a fire extinguisher from her father.
"Dad!" She yanks on the extinguisher. "Let go!"
"I can save it!" Gideon Bristol, still impressively spry for a man with a new kidney, refuses to release his grip. "Just need to adjust the temperature!"
"The temperature is literally on fire!"
"Just a small fire!"
"No such thing as a small fire!" She finally wrenches the extinguisher free, then spots me. "Oh god."
"Having fun?" I lean against the doorframe, fighting a grin.
"This is all your fault." She blows hair from her face, leaving a streak of flour on her cheek. "You and your stupid perfect pancakes made Dad think he could cook."
"My pancakes are not stupid."
"They kind of are," Lily offers. “I heard. You add like two pounds of chocolate chip per square inch? Though even that is probably not as stupid as whatever Dad did to that poor lasagna."
"It wasn't that bad!" Gideon protests.
"Dad." Ariana gestures to the smoking oven. "You tried to substitute kale for basil."
"It's healthier!"
"It's a crime against Italy, is what it is.”
I can't help it. I laugh.
They all turn to stare at me.
"Sorry." I straighten, trying for CEO gravitas. "Just... experiencing déjà vu. My mother once tried to make 'healing crystal-infused' pasta sauce."
"How'd that work out?" Lily asks .
"Let's just say several very expensive crystals had to be surgically removed from the garbage disposal."
Ariana shakes her head, scarcely hiding a smile. "Explains so much about you."
"Does it?"
"The boundary issues. The pancake perfectionism. The—" She yelps as something in the oven makes an ominous popping sound. "Oh come on!"
I move without thinking, pulling her back just as whatever's in there decides to become a minor explosion.
She crashes into my chest with a soft grunt, and suddenly I'm very aware that she's not wearing her usual office armor. That she's soft and warm and fits against me exactly like she did a week ago.
"Um." She blinks up at me. "Thanks?"
"Anytime." I should probably let go of her waist. I don't. "Though maybe we should order takeout?"
"Already on it!" Lily waves her phone. "La Famiglia delivers now. Though..." She eyes us speculatively. "Maybe we should give you two a minute? To... discuss professional things?"
"Out." Ariana points to the door. "Both of you. Before Dad tries to improve Italian cuisine again."
"I was just trying to add protein!" Gideon calls as Lily drags him away. "Did you know you can put protein powder in anything?"
The kitchen door swings shut behind them, leaving us alone in the disaster zone.
Ariana groans, dropping her forehead to my chest. "I'm so sorry."
"For what? The kitchen explosion? Or using my name to get secret Gallo family recipes?"
"Both?" She peeks up at me. "Though in my defense, Nonna Flora really likes you. "
"Everyone likes me." I brush flour from her cheek. "I'm very likable."
"You're very something."
"Charming?"
“And sometimes infuriating.”
“I’ve heard you’re beginning to like ‘infuriating’.”
“I’m thinking I might.” Her hands fist in my shirt. "Though this is probably breaking several professional boundaries."
"Probably." I lean closer. “Would you give a damn if it was?”
“Hell no.”
I kiss her.
She tastes like tomato sauce, the tang sweet on her tongue, and I swallow the taste, stroking her tongue with mine. Ariana’s fingers slide into my hair as I back her against the counter, lifting her onto it without breaking the kiss.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, and God help me, it is all I can do not to sink into this woman right here. I kiss her deeper, harder, letting myself want this. Want her.
Then someone clears their throat.
We jump apart to find her sister Kat standing in the doorway, looking far too amused for my comfort.
"Well," she says dryly, "I guess there’s hotter things happening other than fire in here today.”
Ariana straightens her shirt, cheeks flushed. "I was just showing Connor where we keep the... fire extinguisher."
“Sure. And is that…extinguisher between your legs, Ari?”
"Kat..."
"Relax." Her lips clamp down over a smile. "I'm not here to judge. I'm here because Lily ordered enough food for a small army, and Dad's trying to convince the chef at La Famiglia to add protein powder to his breadsticks." She pauses. "Also, you might want to fix your hair before dinner. Both of you."
I run a hand through my definitely-messed-up hair as Ariana groans .
"You're staying for dinner, right?" Kat asks me. "Fair warning: there will be commentary from the peanut gallery, and I’m sure Lily's already planning your wedding.”
I look at Ariana, who's currently trying to disappear into her hoodie. "Your call, PR crisis manager."
She peers up at me. "You really want to subject yourself to the full Bristol family experience?"
“I do.:
"Even with the protein powder discourse?"
"Even then."
Kat wanders off. “This should be a whole lot of fun.”
I turn to Ariana as soon as she’s gone. “You don’t…think Kat will tell your dad about that little moment we had, do you?”
“Ah, seeking fatherly approval now, Mr. Reeves?”
“I just saw your father start a fire in here, Bristol.” She laughs, tugging me towards the dining room. “I’d like the next fire to not be on the edge of my ass.”