Chapter 6 #2
“Of course I know what I’m doing.”
“Your lack of clients would say otherwise.”
“I’m trying to grow organically,” I complain. It’s a weak argument, even if it’s true. “You can ask Mrs. Shafer, and she’ll tell you that my food is delicious.”
His expression turns hard, though a bit of pain softens the edges. “That would require her to be willing to talk to me.”
“Oh.” I deflate. “Right.” That’s why he’s here in the first place.
“Honestly, Logan, I don’t know if I can convince her to give you a chance.
It’s not like she’s my friend, and I can’t just casually stroll through her front door and say, ‘Hey, Lola, I know you’re my top client, but I met your son when my cat attacked him and he leveraged my near-bankrupt status to coerce me into telling you that you should have a conversation with him. ’”
Logan’s forehead creases. “Bankrupt? It’s that bad?”
“No.” I wince, realizing too late that my financial situation is something I should keep to myself.
Does that stop me from saying more? Of course not.
Once I get going, it’s hard to stop. “But it’s close.
With student loans and things, it’s almost impossible to put any energy into scaling up when I’m barely making enough to cover my bills.
” As if telling him all this is going to change his mind.
I don’t know much about Logan Callahan, but I can guess pretty easily that he’s not the fickle type.
He knows what he wants, and I’m pretty sure he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.
The oven beeps, and I use the distraction of putting the casserole inside to take a few deep breaths and think things through.
I can’t improve my situation by feeling sorry for myself.
Just hard work, grit, and determination.
Logan’s meals will give me some wiggle room with my finances, and I can use that peace of mind to start brainstorming other avenues I haven’t tried yet to find new clients.
Preferably people like him who want more than a few meals a week.
Clients with bigger orders are way better than dozens of small deliveries that take up precious time.
“Maybe I could…” Logan taps a finger on the counter when I turn back to him, looking far less confident than he usually does. “The Thunder doesn’t have a nutritionist on staff.”
I scoff. “The team that can’t even pay its players a liveable wage?”
“That’s not by choice. There’s a salary cap set by the league board.”
“Oh.”
“And the Thunder are owned by Cole Evanson.”
That’s a name I definitely know. Eyebrows jumping high, I ask, “Cole Evanson, like the guy who used to play football and is super rich and famous?”
He nods. “That one, yeah.”
“Who’s richer, you or him?”
He rolls his eyes but surprises me by answering, “Him.”
A smile cracks through my anxiety, and I lean on the counter across from him. “Did it pain you to say that, Big Leagues?”
As he nods toward the oven, he can’t fully hide a reciprocal smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me what to do?”
Ah, right, I am supposed to be doing that. Shrugging, I grab the instruction sheet I made to go with the pie and place it on the countertop between us. “I try to make it as simple as possible, and there are instructions for both frozen and thawed.”
He scans the sheet, nodding as he reads. “Easy enough. What sets you apart from a meal service I can get on the internet?”
I hate that question, but it’s the one I get most often.
“Because for the most part I’m not selling batch-made one-size-fits-all.
Yes, I also provide basic meal plans like those sites do, but my focus is on the personalization of everything.
Making sure you get the right nutrients without sacrificing on taste.
Like, one of my clients is vegan but allergic to cashews, so I make sure everything I give her is safe for her to eat. ”
His eyes lift to mine, stormy and hard. Gone is the smile he showed me a second ago. “I’m allergic to cashews,” he says in a rough voice that makes me shiver. “Are you talking about Lola?”
My stomach twists. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t care if you talk about her or say her name. I’m not here to form a relationship with her.”
“Then why are you here?” And why is he trying so hard to get to Mrs. Shafer if he doesn’t want her in his life?
He runs a hand through his russet brown hair. “I have good parents.”
When he says nothing else, I scratch the tip of my nose. “Cool?”
The fingers resting on the counter curl into a fist. “They adopted me soon after I was born and have always loved me like their own son, so I’m not looking for parents. I have those. I need…” He shrugs, like he can’t find the words.
“Closure?” I guess.
“Yes and no. Reckon I deserve to know why she gave me up, but it’s more than that.
My parents are…” His eyes narrow slightly, like he isn’t sure he trusts me.
He has no reason to. Still, I keep my mouth shut and hold back a smile when he keeps going.
“They’re old. And I promised them I won’t be alone when they’re gone.
If I go back home without being able to tell them I’ve connected to my family, it’ll kill them. ”
That’s a lot for them to put on his shoulders, and my heart aches for him.
I’m sure Mrs. Shafer has her reasons for wanting to avoid contact, just as she had her reasons for putting him up for adoption, but I can only imagine how that feels on Logan’s end.
And dang it, I think I have to help him.
But how? “I’ll do what I can, Logan, but—”
“Get me a meeting with Lola, and I’ll put in a good word for you with Evanson.” He holds out his hand like he just offered me a no-brainer deal.
I keep my hands to myself. “I need more than a good word, Logan. If I’m not careful with how I go about this, I could lose Lola as a client.”
His jaw tightens. “You know how much I’m going to be paying you, yeah? That should be more than enough to cover your bills.”
“Until you go back to Sydney in six months,” I argue. “And you said that no one on your team can afford me, so unless you can promise me a permanent spot on the staff, I’m not sure sweet-talking about you to Lola will be worth the risk.”
A low growl rumbles in his throat, killing some of the sympathy I was feeling for him.
“She’s my best client,” I say and fold my arms to match his growing frustration. “And frankly my favorite too.”
“Glad to know you get along, though that shouldn’t surprise me, given your shared low opinion of me.”
I scoff, lifting my eyebrows at the nerve of this man. I haven’t said a single bad thing about him, but it’s not like he’s wrong. Logan is pretty, but only on the outside. “You know, my opinion of you would be a lot higher if you didn’t have such a high opinion of yourself.”
That gets a sharp laugh out of him, and he shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling.
“I know what I’m worth, love. You should learn from me so you stop trying to make organic sales and start making actual money.
From an outward perspective, you have a solid thing going here.
So own it. Instead of second-guessing yourself, prove you deserve some notice.
” On that last word, his gaze fans over me and leaves me overheating.
How can he say such nice things while sounding so condescending? I don’t know if I’m supposed to say thank you or call him out for the way he’s looking at me with interest.
And okay, yes, he’s a very attractive man with thighs the size of tree trunks, so his notice is incredibly flattering. But a girl’s got to have some self-respect. He can praise me all he wants, but that doesn’t make him a nice person. He’s a client. A temporary one.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say as firmly as I can.
“If a chance to naturally bring up your situation with Lola presents itself, I’ll take it.
And if I can get her to at least consider talking to you, you’ll introduce me to the team’s owner.
I won’t go out of my way to dig into Mrs. Shafer’s past if she doesn’t want me to, but I’ll help if I can. ”
He narrows his eyes. “And if you can’t?”
“Then you don’t have to keep up the other end of the bargain unless you’re feeling extra charitable.” Were he anyone else, I would hold out hope for him doing a nice thing and making the introduction anyway, but I doubt Logan has a lot of experience with true nice.
Most likely, I’ll have to take advantage of my veterinarian and see if Moxie will get me a meeting with Cole Evanson once Logan is gone. I hate that route; I’d like to avoid preying on Moxie’s kind heart more than I already have.
“Deal?” I hold my hand over the counter.
He eyes my fingers like they’re covered in dirt, but I can almost see his thoughts working behind his eyes as his expression shifts from disgust to irritation to resignation.
Sighing, he turns his gaze to the hallway as he reaches for my hand.
“F—” What I hope was supposed to be ‘fine’ evolves into a much more colorful word as a yowl cuts through the air and Beef Wellington hops into the room.
He literally hops, moving sideways with his back curved in the air and his already fluffy fur standing on end and making him look like he just got in a fight with an outlet. He spits out a hiss at Logan, who inexplicably hisses right back while I stand frozen in the kitchen.
“This isn’t happening,” I moan, looking from one beast to the other in the world’s strangest standoff. I genuinely don’t know who will win if they go at each other, but I guarantee I’ll lose. There’s no way Logan will still hire me if my cat attacks him again.
“Get rid of it,” Logan growls.
Beef growls too, and I swear he’s telling me the same thing about Logan.
“I’m not getting rid of anyone,” I say to both cat and man. “You two can play nice for an hour, can’t you?”
“You’re talking to a cat,” Logan says, glancing at me.