Chapter 11 #2
“I love writing, stringing together words to create something beautiful, and telling stories. But my genuine passion lies in writing about food. On the morning of the dinner party at Elliot and Michelle’s, I’d discovered that Sophisticate would soon have an opening for their food critic position.
Despite only having experience with a social media food blog, I thought fuck it and applied anyway.
My dream is to write about the glamorous Michelin-star restaurants and savor the incredible dishes prepared by the world’s top chefs just as much as it is to shine a light on the lesser-known family-owned establishments that often go unnoticed yet serve some of the most amazing food.
I’ve always hoped that one day, my name would be at the top of those articles. ”
It occurred to me I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Hallie speak for this long, except maybe on the night we met.
A fiery passion had ignited in her eyes, pulling her beautiful lips into the first smile I’d seen tonight—radiant and unforgettable.
The alcohol, mixed with the sheer delight of sharing her love of food, brought a deep flush to her cheeks, a vibrant contrast to her skin.
I was so captivated by her energy that I nearly missed what she’d said.
“I used to write this small section in the back of our magazine that would cover snippets of conversation I would hear all over the city. I heard this one girl talk about trying to pick up a man in finance at Whiskey Locker. My boss loved it so much, she wanted me to expand it into a months-long column. So now I’m here, drowning my sorrows in a drink I’ve been making fun of for the last month as my dreams slip through my fingers. ”
Her hand shook as she lifted her drink to her lips, the liquid sloshing precariously. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and a wave of icy panic clenched my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“Hey, hold on.” I swiped a few napkins from a holder and gently laid them down in front of her. “Don’t cry.”
Her shoulders jerked with a hiccup that slipped out of her mouth. “I’m simply mourning the loss of a career I’ll never have.”
A long silence stretched between us, and I hesitated before responding. “What if I have an idea that would be mutually beneficial for us both?”
Her eyes drifted to mine, a single brow rising in curiosity. A small voice in the back of my mind told me this wasn’t a good idea, that I’d regret it later. But I silenced it, ignoring the warning, letting curiosity and something dangerously close to attraction steer me straight toward her.
“What if I take you on a date?”
Hallie spluttered, her breath catching as some of her drink went down the wrong way.
Once she managed to regain control, her face shifted into a look of complete disbelief, as if I’d just suggested something utterly absurd. And, honestly, maybe I had. “Excuse me?”
“Hear me out,” I said, raising my hands in an attempt to keep her from cutting me off.
I needed to get this idea out. “Five dates. One per week. You can use each of them for your articles. I’m sure it’s getting old writing about trying to find love in the same bars every week.
You’ll get wined and dined at the best restaurants the city offers. It benefits everyone involved.”
“You still haven’t explained how this is mutually beneficial.” Hallie’s wide brown eyes stared at me with a mix of disbelief and suspicion. But I didn’t mind. As long as she was looking at me at all.
I took a deep breath before continuing, my voice a little more serious. “My family has a pizzeria in Brooklyn. It’s been around since the fifties—my grandparents started it. Now my dad and my uncle run it, but profit has been shrinking because they can’t sustain a customer base.”
Her indifference shifted. There was an unmistakable spark of curiosity in her gaze. “Here I was thinking you were nothing more than a trust fund baby. I guess you still have surprises up your sleeve. Do they market on social media?”
I shook my head. I wouldn’t count the poorly maintained social media account my aunt remembers to post on a handful of times a year as “marketing”.
“Have you talked to them about the importance of social media?”
“Let’s just say I’ve come to realize that I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
Which is where you come in. After our five dates, you can cover my family’s restaurant so we can try to stir up some new business.
Enough that I have something substantial to bring to my father.
” To convince my dad about social media, I had to prove its importance beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Hallie didn’t respond immediately. A thoughtful expression crossed her face as she silently considered my proposition.
“Five dates over five weeks?” I nodded, trying to keep my excitement in check. I told myself it was all about helping my family, but the thought of spending more time with her was almost impossible to ignore.
“We need ground rules,” Hallie said, her tone suddenly serious, as if we were negotiating the merger of two billion-dollar companies and not a mutually beneficial arrangement.
“Ground rules?” I asked.
She nodded, ticking off each point on her fingers. “This is purely an arrangement. We’re not pretending to be friends. No strings attached. Absolutely no kissing. And each date needs to be extravagant—got to make sure my boss is happy with the material.”
I quickly mulled over her requests. While none of them were outrageous asks, absolutely no kissing rang around in my head for reasons I wasn’t ready to explore yet. I reached out my hand for her to shake.
“You drive a hard bargain, Hallie Woods. But you have yourself a deal.”
After what felt like ages of silence, Hallie finally asked, “What will I call you?”
“What do you mean?”
The bartender slid another Old Fashioned in front of me, and Hallie’s attention shifted to the glass. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. Then, a dazzling smile illuminated her face, a smile that was far too radiant for any camera to do justice.
“You’ll need a cover-up name in my article, obviously. Mr. Old Fashioned. I’ll call you Mr. Old Fashioned.”