3. Vincent
VINCENT
Why did the worst driver in all of Manhattan have to be so damn…sparkly?
It was bad enough she’d dragged me to a table in Siberia instead of where I was supposed to be, at the main table with the rest of the guys.
Piper should’ve been toward the front as well, but for some reason, she’d apparently asked to be seated at a table filled with bit players and third cousins once removed rather than with her parents and stepbrother.
We were so close to the kitchen I could see the harried chef inside every time a waiter brought out a tray.
But rather than acting like someone banished to the equivalent of the kids’ table, the woman was downright effervescent, chatting like she’d known our fellow diners for ages.
We were joined by a grey hair couple who seemed charmed by her, an outgoing pair who were both in some Broadway show, and a solo middle-aged guy who had to be an accountant, and probably would’ve spent the meal monopolizing Piper if I wasn’t beside her.
Not that I was paying much attention to any of them.
I was here to support Paul—not to make small talk with a bunch of randos.
As soon as we were seated, I had my phone in my hand and my inbox open.
I spent the appetizer course trying to work through a series of bad news emails about the heliotrope blight.
That should have been enough to hold every ounce of my attention, but every time Piper laughed, I couldn’t look away.
I’d thought she was stunning even after she’d smashed her junker into my work of art, but tonight, in a black dress? I had to fight to keep from staring.
Piper, on the other hand, treated me like I was invisible.
Whatever. After tonight, I’d probably only see her once more, at the wedding. It was for the best, since we clearly didn’t get along.
“Vincent. Did you hear me?” Piper demanded.
I looked up to everyone at the table staring at me. “I’m sorry, work.” I held up my phone. “What’s happening?”
“We’re going around the table talking about our favorite places to escape the world. You’re next.”
I frowned. “What was your answer?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “If you’d been listening, you would’ve heard me talk about the wedding I shot in Antigua. It was long before we were dating, sweetheart.” She quirked an eyebrow at me.
The guy next to me handed me a phone. “These are her photos from the trip,” he explained.
I started to pass the phone on but stopped and actually scrolled through them once I caught a glimpse.
Her work was surprising, not only because the photos weren’t the typical I’m-in-a-tropical-location fare, but because they were good.
She had an artist’s eye, and if she were anyone else, I would’ve told her as much.
Seeing as the woman turned her Toyota into a battering ram, I refrained.
“So what’s your favorite location, Vincent?” the older woman asked me.
There was something in her face that reminded me of Nana Dee. Maybe it was the way the corners of her eyes crinkled up when she smiled, like she’d spent a lifetime wearing a grin.
“Jamesport,” I answered.
I’d traveled the world and stayed in every luxury location imaginable, but the one place where I felt happiest? Nana Dee’s bayfront home.
“Long Island?” the grey-haired woman laughed at me. “Well, that’s adorable. And it’s an attainable getaway, since it’s right up the road!”
“It’s a very special place to me,” I snapped at her, offended she thought my answer was funny.
She might vaguely resemble Nana Dee, but she sure didn’t act like her. Nana Dee would never laugh at me.
The woman’s face fell. “Oh, I wasn’t suggesting it was a bad choice, we love that area.”
“I’m happy for you,” I shot back as I refocused on my phone.
Piper gasped.
“Wow, rude much?” she muttered under her breath to me. She turned to the couple. “Jean, where do you and Joe go to escape?”
I didn’t even flick my eyes up as the woman started to speak, because the latest email from R&D suggested that we give up on the distilled heliotrope oil and go with the synthetic version.
Fuck. I started banging out a carefully worded email that would convey my extreme displeasure at the news, since I couldn’t actually say there was no fucking way we were giving up.
“Joe and I are very blessed to have a home on Kauai. It’s a lovely little farm.”
The man laughed. “Jean, I’d hardly call twenty acres ‘little,’ especially on an island like Kauai, where land is so precious.”
I tried to relegate the conversation around me to no more than a dull hum as I finished my email. I was so upset my fingers couldn’t punch the letters quickly enough.
“Hawaii is on my bucket list,” Piper said. “I’d love to pick your brain about the best places to visit.”
“Well, if you ever make it, please plan a stop at Sugarview Farm. We have plenty of guest rooms. And if you can time your trip when the heliotrope blooms, I swear you’ll think you’ve died and gone to flower heaven,” the woman laughed. “It’s the reason we bought the place.”
I froze with my finger hovering above my phone. “I’m sorry, what?”
It had to be the combination of the scotch I’d downed and unblinking stare from the woman sitting beside me throwing me off my game and making me imagine things.
The woman frowned, confused by my sudden interest. “I said we bought the farm because of the flowers.” She glanced at her husband. “They’re my favorite.”
“Heliotrope,” I repeated, locked onto her.
Was it possible my luck was turning around?
The older man leaned in protectively. “That’s what she said. Is there a problem?”
My pulse quickened. I was on the hunt and getting closer. “I don’t know, you tell me. Are your blooms healthy?”
“What’s this about?” the man frowned at me.
“Do they have blight?” I sighed. How were they not understanding what I meant? Blight was a gigantic issue for heliotrope blooms this season—they had to have heard about it.
I could feel Piper glaring holes in the side of my head.
“You mean that disease? No, blight didn’t make the jump to the islands. We have one of the few remaining healthy farms in the country.”
“And how many acres did you say you own?” I asked.
I realized too late that perhaps my tone was a touch brusque.
Piper jumped out of her chair and grabbed my arm. “Honey, Paul is calling for us, we should go see him.”
I glanced over at the main table and saw Paul engrossed in conversation with Trent. “What are you talking about? He’s not even looking—”
She wrenched my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “We’ll be right back, folks.”
I got up and allowed her to slide her arm against mine.
She led us out of the private dining room and into the restaurant’s main dining space, in a nook close to the host stand.
I craned my neck to see if Maya was in view and spotted her ebony bun across the room. Hopefully she wouldn’t glance our way.
“What the hell?” Piper hissed at me. “Why are you interrogating those nice people?”
“I wasn’t interrogating them. I was asking questions,” I insisted, trying to hold on to my temper. Did she have any idea how important this was? Their heliotrope crop could be a game-changer for me, and like hell was I going to just walk away from that.
“Do you work for border patrol or something? For fuck’s sake, Vincent, you were so rude to them.” She looked so genuinely exasperated with me that I was taken aback for a second. Was it…possible that she had a point?
I mentally replayed how the conversation had gone and had to fight back a wince. Okay, from an outsider’s perspective, I supposed I could see how my excitement might have been misconstrued as rudeness.
Shit. Did that mean that I wouldn’t be able to close this deal after all?
“I’m in desperate need of heliotrope, and they’re the key,” I explained.
She screwed up her face like I was speaking another language. “Huh?”
I sighed. How was that not clear? “They have something I need, and I’m going to get it.”
She gave me a deeply unimpressed glare. “Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. I’ll need more of an explanation before I let you interrogate them again.”
Part of me wanted to ask who the hell she was to tell me what I could and couldn’t do—but then I remembered the glare the man had given me as Piper and I had gotten up from the table.
A glare aimed just at me and not at all at her.
If I came back to the table without her, there was a very real chance the couple wouldn’t bother to give me the time of day.
“I’m the CEO of Summit Fragrances, and I need the flower growing on their farm in order to create my next fragrance.”
Piper laughed in my face. “You really think they want to give you anything? Jean looked like she was about to cry, and Joe looked like he was going to use his cane to crack you over the head. Good luck convincing them to give you the time of day.”
Damn it. She was right.
“Can you just keep quiet and let the rest of us have a nice evening?”
“But I need—”
“Ah, ah,” she chastised, wagging her finger at me. “Tonight isn’t about you, remember? And you’ll never convince them to do anything for you if you keep acting like an entitled asshole.”
“Excuse me?”
She shrugged and scrunched up her nose, which I would’ve admitted was adorable if she wasn’t so exhausting.
“Just calling ’em like I see ’em,” Piper said.
I heard a commotion across the room along with a cringingly familiar laugh and realized Maya was on the move and headed our way. That was the last thing I needed right now. I slung my arm around Piper’s shoulder and started back toward the private room.
“Wha—?” she sputtered at my closeness. She pushed her elbow against my ribs in an attempt to create a buffer.