Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Hart
“ I ’m going to try my hardest not to be a grump, but it’s what”—Sadie paused—“only a little past eight, and I’m just taking my first sip of coffee, so I have a long way to go before I’m caffeinated.”
The sound of her always did two things to me.
The first was put this foolish fucking expression on my face.
The second was that she immediately made my dick hard.
“You don’t have to say much at all,” I told her. “I just wanted to wish you a good morning and hear your voice.”
“Aw. You’re sweet.”
I finally turned at the light. “I don’t know if that’s true. I’m ready to get in our jet and fly to where I need to be before I rip someone’s face off. The traffic is bullshit today.”
“You have no idea how happy I am that I work from home. I could not deal with that bumper-to-bumper chaos every day.”
I thrummed the steering wheel with my thumbs as the cars in front of me began to get backed up again. “If I didn’t have a meeting in ten minutes, my ass would be working from home too.”
“Oh, I forgot to text you before I went to bed and ask how Horned was. Did you and your brother have a good dinner?”
Fuck my life.
Horned was the whole reason I was even going into the office today.
But what I couldn’t get out of my head was the text conversation I’d had with her about it. She loved it there; she’d talked it up, using the highest praise to describe her meal, like there was no better food to be found in the whole state.
First Dear Foodie. Then Eden. Now Sadie.
All opinions I could confirm since Beck and I had eaten there.
And all that did was reinforce my decision—a decision Beck and I were going to pitch to Walker today.
“It was just like you said it was. In fact, I’ll use your exact words—blown away and one of the best restaurants I’ve been to in a while.”
And Walker wasn’t going to want to hear that. I was already mentally preparing for the war that was going to take place in our conference room.
“Did you get the butter cake?” she asked.
“Sure did,” I exhaled, wishing I had another piece right now. “Honestly, I could have eaten ten of them—it was that good.”
Which had fucking killed Beck and me to admit because it was better than our cheesecake, our signature dessert at Charred. Another thing Walker was going to lose his shit over.
Our family had a lot to talk about today.
“Yay, I’m so happy you loved it.”
I was tempted to explain why me loving it was a complicated scenario. But Sadie didn’t know why I’d gone to Horned—either time. We hadn’t discussed The Weston Group, and the only siblings I’d called out by first name were the unfamous ones. Our family business and my famous brothers were topics women loved to bring up to me once they found out my last name.
Maybe Sadie knew and was waiting for the right time to mention it. Maybe it didn’t matter to her, and she had no interest in talking about it at all. Or maybe she didn’t know, and sometime soon, I would reveal that part of me, the same way she would eventually invite me to her place.
But for once, it was a goddamn relief to not have a woman drill me on the mysterious, world-renowned Walker Weston; the wild Beck Weston, a multi–Stanley Cup winner; or the hundreds of restaurants we owned.
That was only part of my life. The more important part? That was what Sadie was really getting to know.
“Tell me, what are you doing tomorrow night?” I inquired.
“ Mmm . Work? Yeah, lots of work, I think.”
I was relieved as hell to see the high-rise of our corporate office up ahead, knowing I’d only have to put up with this bullshit traffic for a few more minutes before I had to tackle a whole other battle.
“I don’t like that answer, Sadie.”
“Neither do I. How about you change it?”
I skimmed my teeth over my lip. “Dinner.”
“ Yesss .”
“I’ll text you later.”
“You’d better.”
I chuckled as I hung up and pulled into the parking garage of our corporate office, getting out at the valet stand, and while the attendant parked my car, I took the elevator to the top floor. Since the ride was fairly long, I slipped out my phone from my pocket, avoiding any app that had to do with work, and opened Instagram—the best stress-free way to pass time.
The first post on my feed was from Dear Foodie with the caption, Soy in love . There were two photos. The first was of three pieces of nigiri on a plate and a perfectly positioned pair of chopsticks with a wad of wasabi on the end. The second was of a lychee martini, holding the mouth of the glass with her pink nails. She’d tagged the location; I knew it well. It was the restaurant where I’d run into Sadie and taken her out in the alley behind the building.
If Dear Foodie loved that place, I could only hope she felt the same way about Toro.
I gave the post a like just as the door opened to the executive floor, my assistant standing nearby since the security monitors had notified her of my arrival.
I nodded. “Good morning, CC.”
Cecilia preferred the nickname, and my family and I had been using it since her first day, which was seven years ago.
“Everyone’s already in the conference room.” She waved me toward the hallway, and that was when I caught sight of her nails.
“You have pink too? What, does every woman in this world only use that color?”
“Pink?” She followed my line of sight to the hand she was holding in the air. “Oh! Dear Foodie inspired this manicure. What can I say?” She snorted.
I shook my head and checked my watch. “I’m not late.”
“No, your siblings were just early. Can I get you coffee? Bagel? Anything?”
“Coffee, as strong as you can make it. Thank you.”
I passed her and went through the double doors and down the hallway until I reached the end. The door to the conference room was already ajar, so I walked in, and the room turned silent as everyone looked at me.
“Suddenly, you’re all overachievers?”
Eden smirked. “I came in early to get work done. You know, I’d be able to work normal hours if you guys actually left me alone during the day and let me do my job.”
“I didn’t sleep,” Walker admitted. “Might as well be here than tossing and turning in my bed.”
Colson groaned. “None of you are allowed to complain about sleep until you have a four-year-old who would rather sleep in your bed than hers, who positions herself sideways and mostly on top of you and insists on having no less than ten purple unicorns surrounding her. Then, you’re allowed to bitch all you want.”
“Fuck that. I have every right to bitch,” Walker stammered. “Besides, I have plenty of four-year-olds, their names are Charred and Toro and their hundreds of kitchens that I manage, and they do a hell of a job at keeping me awake.”
Kill me now.
Today was going to go over like a goddamn lead balloon.
I took a seat across from Beck and nodded toward him. “Do you want to do the honors?”
Beck was wearing an LA Whales hoodie, the team he played for, and he pushed up the sleeves before he clasped his hands on the table. “We need to talk about Horned.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Walker groaned. “I can’t escape that restaurant, no matter how hard I try.”
“What we’re about to tell you is going to make things even worse,” Beck said, clearing his throat. “Hart and I went there last night for dinner.” He paused and looked at me before returning his gaze to Walker. “It fucking pains me to say this, but it was one of the best meals I’ve had in a very long time. ”
Walker looked like he was on the verge of tearing his hair out.
“And we want to buy it,” I added.
Walker shot up straight in his chair. “You … what ?”
I nodded. “We think it’ll be the perfect addition to our brand.”
Walker glanced from me to Beck and back. “Why?” He stood, setting his palms on the table, and leaned forward, sending him even closer, as he was across from me. “Because what we have already isn’t enough?”
“What we have is plenty,” I explained. “But this is nothing like what we have. This is …” My hand went to the top of my head, holding it. “Shit, I don’t even know what this is. It’s eclectic and original, and to put it bluntly, it’s perfect.”
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Walker asked us.
“No, and that’s why we think we should keep the executive chef,” I said. “She doesn’t want to manage the logistics of a business, and that’s the reason she brought on the Gordons—she only wants to be in the kitchen. So, we let her do that. We pay her an extremely generous salary, she focuses on the food and menu, and we run the show. When we open new locations, she’ll travel to train and then return to her hub in Laguna Beach.”
“Really, she’s no different than any of the other chefs we have on our payroll. The only but is that we need to buy the business from her. We throw her a couple mil and call it a day.”
Walker’s gaze shifted between Beck and me again. “The two of you are fucking serious.”
“Dead serious,” Beck replied.
Walker released a loud breath. “And you,” he voiced to Eden, “are you on board with this?”
She held her chin with her pink fucking nails and said, “ You know how I feel about the meal I ate there. I don’t see how this could be a bad investment.”
Walker dragged his stare to Colson. “Your turn to weigh in.”
Colson shrugged. “I haven’t eaten there, so I don’t have an opinion about the restaurant. But if those three”—he pointed at Eden, then Beck, and me—“think it’s worthy, I know they wouldn’t steer us wrong. I support whatever you all decide.”
Walker’s head dropped, his fingers turning white as he pushed on the table. When he glanced up, he said, “I need a fucking drink,” before he walked out of the conference room.
The outside of my mouth was still wet from Sadie’s pussy. My lips had been positioned against hers over the last fifteen or so minutes—a break from pre-dinner cocktails because there was something I wanted to drink more than my old-fashioned, and that was her cunt. My tongue swiped her clit so many times that I gave her two orgasms. I could still feel her on my fingers. The way she had tightened around them. The way she had soaked my skin. And I could still taste her on my tongue.
God, she was fucking perfection.
And now, as I looked down at the floor in my kitchen, only feet from where I’d eaten her on my island, she was there, on her knees, with my dick in her mouth.
Her lips were wide, her cheeks full, as she bobbed down my shaft as far as she could, using both hands to cover me—one palm swiveling around the remainder of my cock that she wasn’t able to fit in and the other cupping my balls.
She knew what the fuck she was doing, and she was using every bit of power she had to draw the cum out of me.
“That’s it,” I hissed. My fingers were on the top of her head, squeezing her hair. Not to urge her on. Not to increase her pace. But because I just needed to grip something—that was how good she was making me feel. “Hell yes, Sadie!”
I didn’t have to tell her to go harder; she was already doing that.
I didn’t even have to tell her to go faster; it was as though she could read how close I was getting to the edge and sensed what I needed.
“Oh my God,” I moaned.
Damn, this woman could give a fucking blow job.
A mouth that was relentless.
Hands that ruthlessly stroked me.
My head fell back as the bursts started to move through my sac. “You’re going to make me fucking come.”
As soon as those words left my mouth, she began to really suck, focusing on my tip while her fingers took care of the rest.
Grinding me.
Pumping me.
Forcing my orgasm to peak.
My head straightened, and we locked eyes.
“If you don’t want a mouthful, then you’d better stop right now.”
She deserved the warning.
But where I thought she might pull back and jerk me off into her hand, she kept her lips around my head, her tongue circling, her eyes large as they gazed straight into mine.
She wanted me to unload in her mouth.
She was going to get that wish.
“Shit yeah!” It only took a few more dips, and I was there. Full of fucking tingles. The wave of pleasure spread through me, combining all together and ejecting straight out. “Sadie, ah!” I could feel it squirt. I could feel the cum on her tongue as she dragged it around me. “Fuck! Fuck! Yes!” The last bit drained out of me, the sensation of the build now gone, and what was left was the after—the jittery feeling that ran through my body as it slowly dissolved. “Damn it, that was sick.”
Her speed died down, her eyes never leaving mine, even after she came to a stop. She licked her lips as she stood, running her thumb across the bottom and then the top, smiling like she knew the control she’d just had over me.
“I’ve been dying to do that,” she admitted.
I chuckled. “You’re really fucking good at it.”
I tucked my dick back into my boxer briefs and zipped the fly of my jeans, along with fastening the button and my belt. Before she could return to the old-fashioned I’d made her, I pulled her against me.
“We’re covered in each other.” She rubbed her thumb over the bottom of my mouth, and I licked the pad of it and then my lips. “You can’t get enough of me, Lockhart.”
“No, I can’t, and I won’t ever.”
She smiled as I ran my palms down her back and cupped her ass, taking a quick glance at the stovetop.
“Whatever you’re making for dinner smells incredible.” I rubbed my nose over hers.
She laughed. “The only reason I haven’t told you is because I love to surprise you.”
Which she’d been able to do because she’d shown up with a Dutch oven that she put straight into the oven and some Tupperware that went into the fridge. I’d seen nothing of what she’d made.
But what I’d found interesting was when we talked about the plans for this evening, she’d expressed her desire to cook at my place. Something I certainly didn’t have an issue with. I just didn’t want her to think we always had to stay in since I’d made the comment once that I didn’t want to be too far from a bed.
“I want to make something clear because I don’t know if it is.” My hands moved to her face. “We never have to stay in. We can go out whenever you want.”
She studied my eyes. “Where is this coming from?”
“I texted you once that I didn’t want us to be too far from a bed.” I let out some air with a grin. “Regardless of what just happened in my kitchen and at the sushi restaurant”—I laughed—“I promise I can control myself and take you out and make it through an entire meal.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “What if I don’t want to be too far from a bed?”
“That just made me like you even more.” I pressed my nose to hers. “But I’m serious.”
“I know.” She leaned back a few inches and kissed me. “Tonight, I wanted to cook for you, but that won’t always be the case. I’ll get this antsy urge to go out, and you will too. I like that we love to do both.”
“Same.”
Her eyes suddenly turned wide. “Oh shit.” She pulled her arm loose and looked at her watch. “Dinner is ready.” She released me and went over to the oven, grabbing the mitts I’d set out and slipping them on.
I observed her from this side of the island with a view of her ass that I could stare at forever. “Can I help you?”
“Nope. I’ve got this.” She took out the pot from inside the oven and set it on the stovetop. She then grabbed a fork from the drawer and glanced at me. “I’m really learning my way around your kitchen.” After she winked, she took off the lid of the Dutch oven and dug through whatever was inside. “We’re good. It’s ready. Let’s eat.”
She grabbed two plates from the cabinet and a serving spoon from the drawer, leaving it all by the stove while she went to the fridge to get the Tupperware. She lined everything up and began to plate .
“Watermelon and feta salad.” I eyed each scoop. “And potato salad.”
“What’s in the potato salad is what makes it special.”
As soon as she set the main entrée on the plate, I said, “Short ribs.” I nodded in approval. “Nice.”
She looked at me from over her shoulder. “Sounds like an interesting pairing, I know. But you have to trust the process.”
“I trust you. I’m not worried about anything.” I took the plates from her hands and carried them into the dining room that had already been set while she brought in our cocktails. I immediately tried the short ribs. I couldn’t wait; they smelled amazing. And I moaned, “Sadie,” when the meat hit my tongue.
She smiled. “Now try it with some potato salad. There are dried cranberries in there, and when you combine it with the mayo and the rich, savory meat, it’s divine.”
She was right.
I whistled and added, “Shit, you weren’t joking.”
“The watermelon is just a refreshing addition to balance the heavy meal. The basil gives it an earthy punch, and the feta—well, I just love cheese.”
“That makes two of us.” The salad was as good as everything else. “This is outstanding. All of it. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
I watched her cut her meat into small pieces, wiping her lips after every bite before she licked them.
“You love food, and you’re an excellent cook—I’m telling you, Sadie, I think I’ve found my future wife.”
She laughed again. “It runs in my blood. I can’t help myself.”
I nodded. “I know that feeling.”
She set down her fork and took a drink. “This is probably going to come across as very random, but I wanted to ask you something about Eden. You’ve mentioned her a few times to me, and when you were describing the dating patterns of your family, you said one doesn’t date by choice.” She paused. “Were you referring to her or one of your brothers?”
I hesitated. “Her.”
She nibbled at the end of a watermelon chunk. “It’s just not her thing?”
This wasn’t information I was willing to share.
With anyone.
Even if I cared about them, like I did with Sadie.
“Single is her thing.” And that was all I would say on the matter.
She nodded. “I get it.”
But she didn’t.
“How old is she?” she asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
“So interesting.”
I took down the rest of my old-fashioned and replied, “You’ll meet her soon, and you’ll love her. She’ll come across as a little closed off at first. She’s not the type to give you that warm and fuzzy greeting—that’s the way she describes it, not me.” I chuckled. “But once you get through that outer layer”—the emotion surrounding Eden was in my chest, it always was whenever I talked about her, but I refused to show it—“she’s one of the best people you’ll ever have in your life.”
“I’m looking forward to that.” She turned her face, giving me her profile. “But do you really think I’ll meet her soon?”
“If I was a betting man—and I think you know I am—I’d say you’re going to meet all my siblings soon.”
That fucking smile.
I couldn’t get enough of it.