Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
MELLIE
Evan, Catalina, Sydney and I pull up to Beck’s restaurant, The Vineyard, in downtown Callahan. Evan parks his SUV on the street at one of the metered spots. Today Syd and I are tagging along while they finalize their catering menu with Beck.
Entering the restaurant, I admire the trendy interior decor.
Everything is furnished in black and white, the walls and sliding doors in black wood with white accents.
We’re promptly led to a room near the back, and Beck comes out of the kitchen just as we’re settling in at a large table with a stark white tablecloth.
I make the introductions for Cat and Sydney’s benefit.
“Thank you guys so much for coming in today,” Beck says, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve got some really great stuff prepared for you, so I hope you brought your appetites.”
Beck is a good-looking, Korean-American man a couple of years younger than me and Ronin.
His hair has grown out quite a bit since I last saw him, and he wears it up in a top bun, the sides shaved close to his head.
It’s dyed a deep purple, which is striking against the black chef’s coat he wears.
His light, golden-brown arms are tattooed, full sleeves decorating his skin.
“Excuse me,” Sydney whispers in my ear as Beck heads back into the kitchen. “Who the hell is Mister Hot Chef and why am I just now meeting him?”
I laugh. “We met in college, and we used to be in the same gaming group.” I glance at her, noticing her flushed cheeks and tease, “Does Syd have a little crush on Beck? Maybe I need to reinstate our game night.”
Sydney wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Yes, I like this plan. Find out if he’s single first.”
“I’ll do my best,” I vow, giving her an exaggerated wink and earning myself a kick in the shin under the table.
The food starts to arrive and as we dig into our first few tasting plates, I’m pleased to find Evan and Cat fawning over each dish. We spend the next hour tasting appetizers and entrees, and Beck brings out a round of spicy margaritas halfway through our meal.
“Tequila,” Sydney sighs, putting her hand to her chest dramatically. “A man after my own heart.”
Beck’s lips quirk up. “Is that all it takes, then?”
She blushes, and I hide my smile beneath my napkin. I don’t think I have ever seen Sydney flustered.
As Beck’s team moves in to clear the last of our plates, he pulls up a chair, resting his elbows on the table. “So, how was everything?”
“Absolutely delicious,” Cat sighs, rubbing her stomach. Her and Evan dive into discussions with him about what to keep and what to scrap for the final menu.
After the table is cleared, Cat and Evan head into Beck’s office to sign the contract while Sydney and I wander outside to wait.
Callahan is a small town like ours, but slightly more populated.
Their Main Street is twice the size of Blue Fields’, and there are a lot of cute, touristy shops up and down the block.
We window shop as we walk arm-in-arm, chatting about the latest news that Imogen spilled the previous afternoon when she’d stopped in for her weekly check-in.
And she says Sal is the town gossip. We all know the truth.
Evan and Cat exit the restaurant just as we make our way back to the car.
“Everything all squared away?” I ask, leaning into Sydney as a cold wind breezes past.
“All set,” Evan replies, pulling his keys out. “Thanks again for reaching out for us, Mellie. Beck’s going to be incredible.”
“Happy to help.”
“What are you guys doing now?” Cat asks as we climb into the car. She reaches out to crank up the heat as Evan pulls out into the road. “Double Shot for some drinks once we’re home? Ronin’s bartending tonight, I believe.”
“I’d love to, but I should probably get some writing done,” I say, the mention of Ronin bringing back an image of him standing before me in the moonlight, his lips against the skin of my hand. “Rain check?”
I have barely put down any words for my short story. Realistically, I know that I have until the mid-spring deadline. But knowing that I haven’t been able to start yet is stressing me out. I’m not sure what’s holding me back. I have the premise, but no spark of creativity to get it going.
I’m lost in thought for the drive home, chiming in to the conversation here and there when needed. But my mind is distracted. Not with the fated couple of my story, like it should be.
No. The visions dancing through my mind are of two other people. One is myself, a version of me who’s published my first book and happily celebrating. Next to me is Ronin, pulling me in for a hug and brushing his lips across mine in the faintest of kisses.
My fingers drift to my mouth of their own accord, and I have to shake myself out of my daydream to remind myself that it’s just that—a dream.