Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Hart
Me
I fucking love when you say yes to me.
And knowing I’m going to see you tonight makes the ass chewing I’m about to get a little more tolerable.
Sadie
Walker?
Me
How’d you guess? LOL. He’s on his way in.
Sadie
Would a night in help with the sting? Or do you want to go out?
Or do you want me to surprise you?
“Are you busy?” Eden asked as she popped her head into my office, her dark strands framing her face.
Me
Surprise me.
“Not anymore.” I set my phone down and watched her take a seat in front of my desk. “Is everything all right?”
She crossed her legs and her arms, pulling at the fabric of her black suit. “Beck isn’t coming in for the meeting?”
I shook my head. “He’s got hockey shit to deal with.”
“Which means you’re tackling Walker all on your own.”
“I’m a big boy, I can handle it. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to go head-to-head with my brother.” I stared at her silently, knowing that complex, layered, complicated mind of hers was churning. “Why don’t you tell me why you really came in?”
Sadie
Oh, now, this is going to be fun.
She let out a small laugh. “There’s no hiding anything from you.”
“Me? No. But we have the kind of relationship where you can come in and put it all out there, and we don’t have to beat around the bush, which is what you just did.” I nodded toward her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Her arms dropped from her chest, and she gripped the armrests. “When Brady’s in town, I’ve decided that I’ll go to the game with you guys, but I’m not going to go out after.”
I had expected this.
But I still didn’t fucking like it.
My brows furrowed. “Why?”
“I just … don’t want to.”
Me
What’s it feel like to know you can do anything you want with me? I give that kind of power to no one. But you.
I exhaled. “You’re telling me this so when everyone gives you shit when you inform them you’re bailing, I’ll have your back and tell them to lay off—am I right?”
She nodded.
“I always have your back—you know that,” I said.
“But the collective sigh I’ll hear from everyone—that’s what I don’t want.” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “You know, the thought of how thick they’ll lay it on and all the shit they’ll give me makes me almost not want to even go to the game.”
“They do it because they love you, Eden, and they want to hang out with you.”
She was pulling her hair off her face, her black nails gaining my attention, halting halfway past her forehead. “I don’t want to hear it, Hart.”
“All right. Then leave before you have to make the announcement. The second the game is over, dart out. Everyone will be so focused that they won’t even notice until they turn around and you’re gone. That way, you don’t hear any collective sighs, no one will be able to lay it on thick, and you won’t regret attending the game.”
She slowly nodded, a smile appearing. “I like that plan.”
“But for the record, I fucking hate that you’re not coming out with us.”
She waved her finger at me. “Stop.”
“I want to ask you to think about it and consider changing your mind … but I won’t.”
She rolled her eyes. “Except you just did.”
“I planted the seed. I didn’t come out and ask you.”
“It’s the same thing. ”
I chuckled.
Sadie
It’s exhilarating. I suddenly feel all this pressure to plan something perfect.
Me
Don’t. I could sit in front of my fireplace with you and a bottle of red wine and a loaf of sourdough and a plate of cheese and be the happiest man alive.
But really, I don’t even need the food. I just need you.
“What are you up to tonight?” Eden asked. “Looks like you’re busy doing something.” She paused. “Is that Sadie you’re texting?”
I glanced from the screen of my phone to my sister. “Yeah, we’re making plans now.”
“Will I be meeting her at the game?”
I set my cell on my desk. “I’m going to ask her to come.”
“I hope she does.”
“What about you? Cooking tonight?” I asked. “Ordering in? Picking up from Charred?”
“I planned on picking up from Charred until I saw the recipe Dear Foodie posted this morning of her homemade macaroni and cheese. Did you see it?”
I shook my head. “Let me look.”
I pulled up Instagram, and Dear Foodie’s post was the first one displayed in my feed. I clicked on her video, which enlarged it on my screen. The voice was computerized—something I couldn’t deal with initially, but I’d been following her for so long that I was used to it. She had all the ingredients set up in small bowls on her counter, and in front of those were blocks of cheese. Her pink nails were moving so goddamn fast as she grated a sharp cheddar.
When she finished and picked up the Gruyère, I noticed the Band-Aid. It was wrapped around the back of her thumb—the same spot Sadie had hers.
What was it with these women and hurting themselves in the fucking kitchen?
“Save me the leftovers,” I ordered. “I need some of that. It looks delicious.”
“Right?” She was gazing at her phone as she spoke. “Four different types of cheeses, more cheese sprinkled on top that gets baked and melted and a little crispy along the sides. Thick, springy, ribbed noodles. I’ll have to spend hours at the gym tomorrow.”
“Your weight is something you don’t have to worry about. You can afford to eat the entire pan, Eden.”
Sadie
Remember the whole “I found my future wife and husband” thing we once said to one another? I’m feeling THAT. In a hardcore way.
Me
It’s mutual, baby.
“No need to meet me in the conference room. We can chat right here,” Walker said from the doorway of my office.
My attention snapped in his direction.
He came in and looked at Eden, rubbing her shoulder. “Are you sticking around for the spectacle?”
She smiled at me. “I don’t know. Hart, do you need backup?”
I chuckled. “Fuck no. Go get some work done. I’ll come see you before I head home.”
“Good luck,” she said before she left my office .
Walker took her chair, wearing his chef’s whites, and as he sat, a hint of something sweet-smelling wafted off him.
I moved my phone off to the side. “What have you been cooking?”
“Baking. Testing new desserts for Charred since I saw the photos of the fucking butter cake and listened to you and Beck moan about it.”
I decided it would be best not to laugh even though I wanted to. “Any contenders?”
“I’ve been playing around with a nontraditional banana pudding and a bread pudding.”
I moaned, “Talk to me about the bread pudding.”
“It’s made of homemade cinnamon raisin challah bread with a drizzled-on bourbon glaze, a garnish of cinnamon-infused whipped cream, and a scoop of caramel ice cream.”
“Jesus Christ.” I patted my chest. “That right there is your winner.”
“You need to try the banana pudding.”
I shook my head. “I really don’t. I’m not interested in anything banana-flavored or that has a pudding consistency—pudding is for fucking kids.”
He scratched his scruff. “But it’s not the main act. It’s just a scoop that sits on the side of a fresh slice of banana bread, and you dip the bread into the pudding instead of ice cream or whipped cream.”
“Okay … now we’re talking.”
He chuckled. “Trying to warm me up, Hart? Because you know I’m on the verge of losing my fucking shit.”
I smiled. “Hit me with it, Walker. I’m ready to hear everything you’ve got.”
He leaned back in the chair, setting his hands on top of his chest. “Which one of you thought it was a fucking genius idea to go to Horned, sit in the main fucking dining room, and order half the menu?”
He didn’t pause because he expected an answer. He paused because his mind was blown that Beck and I had done that.
“Had it just been you, I don’t think you would have raised any attention, and I wouldn’t be in here, having this conversation. But bringing that knucklehead with you, you might as well have called the fucking paparazzi and reported that you were there.”
His head fell back, and he whistled out a mouthful of heated air. “I don’t like how it looks—two partners of The Weston Group eating at our biggest rival. But that’s only half of it.” His gaze reconnected with mine. “The other half is that somehow, someway, the Celebrity Alert bastards got wind that we’re interested in buying Horned.” His brows rose. “Someone didn’t just pull that news out of their ass, Hart. They either got tipped off by one of our employees, our attorney, or someone overheard you and Beck talking at the restaurant—which I’m leaning toward because I know you two had a driver that evening. And I know that means you had quite a few cocktails. And I know that when cocktails are involved, you two can become loose-lipped.”
He moved forward, setting his arms on his knees, crossing his hands between them. “So, now, the whole fucking world, including the Gordons, knows that we want to buy Horned. Do you know what happens when vultures get a whiff of a fresh carcass? They go after it, which means whatever price we were going to offer for Horned, we might as well double it.”
I leaned on my desk and stared at my brother. “Our offer is getting drawn up as we speak, and I’m not adding a penny to it. Once it’s submitted, she’ll have forty-eight hours to accept the deal—and she will. ”
He had a look of disgust on his face as he shook his head. “You’re way too sure of yourself.”
“Not of myself. Of our business. Our brand. And our reputation.” I licked my lips. “When that contract hits her email, she’s going to be honored that a company like ours wants her. And she’s going to sign so fucking fast that the vultures won’t even have a chance to fly.”