Chapter Nine
Bethany stopped singing Christmas songs and cracked another egg to add to the beef and breadcrumb mixture. There was only one way to mix meatballs and that was with your hands.
Who’s the actor who broke your heart?
The melody hadn’t blotted out the memory of Hank’s deep voice, which echoed in her mind like a tolling bell.
She put on rubber gloves, trying to stop a shiver from running down her spine.
Travis was out front, waiting on customers and wiping down tables.
They’d had an influx as word spread of their famous visitor.
Rosie stood next to her, helping the girls make cookies.
Do you still love him?
Bethany put her hands in the bowl and squeezed the mixture, but her mind was not on the task. She couldn’t stop the sound of Hank’s voice in her thoughts. And the look in his eyes. Like he wouldn’t rest until he had dragged her heartbreak from her.
Our conversation is not over.
Another shiver. It was over. He must have left the premises by now. The phone call he’d made had been serious. She could tell by the way his voice had lowered, and he’d hunched over his phone to guard it from prying eyes. Her eyes.
“Are you cold, honey?” Rosie asked.
“What?”
“You’re shivering like you’re cold. And you’re singing about it being cold outside. You’re not getting sick, are you?”
Cat got your tongue. “Oh, no. Just thinking about—stuff.”
“I know what you’re thinking about—your hot customer. Wowza, did the temperature in this place just go up or what? No wonder you’re singing winter songs.”
“Don’t be silly.” Bethany refused to crack a smile.
“Did you get your picture with him? The girls and I did.”
“Didn’t even think about it.”
“You should have. It’s not every day a TV star joins us for lunch. I can’t wait to post it on my Instagram. Is he still out there?”
Bethany frowned and rolled a meatball. “I don’t know.”
Rosie’s eyes widened. “You’re a better woman than I am, that’s for sure.”
“Hi, Mr. Hank,” Tana said. “We’re making heart cookies. Aren’t they nice?”
“Speak of the devil.” Rosie’s voice dipped, and she moved her lips like a ventriloquist. Her normal bright smile remained in place, a trick Bethany wished she could master.
Hank lounged in the doorway, blinding as the sun.
Heat shot through her body, forcing a gasp.
Her lungs and throat froze. His warm gaze zeroed in on Bethany before taking in the cookies the girls were painting with red icing.
“Sure are, sweetheart.” He winked. “You two master chefs need any taste testers?”
“You can try one of the broken ones.” Tia pointed to a crumbled cookie.
Hank pulled himself away from the wall and moved toward them, his gait smooth and confident.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He scooped up the partial cookie and popped it into his mouth.
His eyes closed in mock excitement before he opened them again.
“Wow. You girls sure are some bakers. These are delicious. Are you positive you made these?”
“We did,” Tia said. “We’re not lying.”
“I don’t know if I believe you. Better try another one.” He nabbed another broken cookie and shoved it in his mouth, to the girl’s delighted laughter.
Bethany refused to be swayed by his adorable antics. “You’re still here,” she observed dryly as she forced her hands to continue making meatballs.
“Disappointed?” He smiled, and his eyes shone with some unnamed emotion.
Rosie chuckled and clicked her tongue. “She’s not.”
Hank leaned his long arms against the worktable. “I told you our conversation wasn’t over.”
Oh, but it was. At least for her. Bethany lowered her eyes to the bowl and continued shaping meatballs, one after the other. “Did you need something?” Her skin tingled. Despite her brain’s warnings, her hormones bowed to his god-like presence.
“I have to head out, but I promised you dinner. What time does the restaurant close?”
“Not until seven. Then there’s cleanup after. I won’t get home until nine. I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
“I can help Travis close as long as you’re okay with the girls being here,” Rosie offered.
Bethany frowned. “Sure, I’m okay with the girls being here, but that’s not necessary. I don’t need dinner.” She managed a quick glance at Hank. “You’re off the hook.”
His lips slowly tilted upward. “But I’d like to, Beth.”
She kept her voice firm. “I can’t. And don’t call me that.” She pulled a large plastic bag from under the worktable and began filling it with meatballs.
Rosie let out an exaggerated cough, causing Bethany to glare at her. She didn’t need any interference.
Hank persisted. “What if we have dinner inside the restaurant? After you’ve closed. I’ll do the cooking.”
Bethany was certain her mouth hung open.
He laughed, the sound low and attractive. “What, you think I don’t know how?”
“No.” Bethany removed her gloves, tossed them in the trash, and sealed the bag of meatballs. “I figured you have your own personal chef.”
Hank grinned, and Bethany couldn’t miss how his eyes crinkled at the corners and his dimples flashed.
“I do. But only on set. The rest of the time, I fend for myself. So how about it?” He batted his eyelashes.
“Wouldn’t you like to tell your friends Apollo cooked for you?
” His smile morphed from charming to wicked and the heat in the room rose another notch.
“We can even take a picture for your Instagram.” He turned his head and winked at Rosie.
Now Bethany did laugh. The man could charm a rattlesnake. Why should she say no? She wanted to save her business and those of the other tenants, and it was only an evening. She would use the opportunity to convince him to let her repurchase the building. She tipped a shoulder. “All right.”
Hank grinned. “I’ll see you at seven.” He turned to leave as Travis rushed into the room, making a beeline for them, looking like he had to take an exam and had forgotten to study.
“There’s a roomful of customers in there.” He pointed at Hank. “Fans wanting your autograph. And a lady. She says you’re needed for an interview.” Travis turned to Bethany. “She wants to bring cameras inside Grandma Lou’s. What should I tell her?”
“Tell her no.” Hank responded before Bethany could. “I’ll do the interview outside.” He touched Bethany’s arm and warm heat traveled to her heart. “I’m not looking to cause problems.”
He nodded and left before Bethany could ask the most important question: Was he planning on putting her out of business?
Hank found himself whistling on the way out the door, and there was a bounce in his step that hadn’t been there before. He told himself it was because of all the sugar he’d eaten, but he knew no amount of sugar had ever given him this particular jolt of happiness.
“You’ll stand here, Hank.” Elizabeth pointed to a spot on the sidewalk marked with a piece of yellow tape. A crowd of at least a couple hundred had gathered to watch the proceedings.
He stepped on the spot, smiling widely for the camera operator who snapped a photo and then peered through the lens to study it before snapping another one. Hank kept his smile fixed in place until the photographer gave him a thumbs up sign.
Then Elizabeth pointed to a female reporter in a lavender top and white skirt who stood a few steps away. She had short, straight blonde hair and a thin face. Smiling, she thrust out her hand to shake his.
“Nice to meet you, Apollo. I’m Susan Winchester from Channel Ten News.”
The cameraman moved into position. Hank eyed the green flashing light, making sure to keep his expression friendly.
Susan Winchester spoke to the camera. “Television star Hank Haverill, who is best known for his portrayal of the Greek god Apollo, is in Cleveland this weekend to purchase the historic Parker building in Tremont. The building was built in 1892 and used as a hotel before it was purchased by the Parker family in 1952 to operate a kitchen, and later, a pantry to help feed the neighborhood. In addition to Grandma Lou’s, which is still operated by the family’s descendants, the building houses a number of specialty stores, including a popular antique bazaar, jewelry warehouse, and a barbershop. ”
She turned to Hank and tipped the microphone his way. “Hank, can you tell us why you decided to purchase the historic Parker building?”
“Sure. My grandparents used to live nearby. I visited the building from time to time as a small boy. When I heard it was on the market, I couldn’t pass it up.”
“I’ve heard you’re in talks with the city to open a fitness center. Is that correct?”
“It is. Fitness has always been important to me, and I’ve learned a lot over the years, which I would enjoy sharing with others.” He recited what Elizabeth had coached him to say, doing his best to sound sincere.
“What about the local businesses in this building? Won’t they be displaced when you renovate?”
Hank’s palms grew sweaty, but he resisted the urge to wipe them on his shirt.
He kept his smile fixed in place. Thankfully, Elizabeth had prepared him for this question.
“No decisions have been made at this point, but if we do open a fitness center, we’ll work with the current renters to secure another location, if desired.
Our goal is to blend in with the local community and make a positive addition to the city of Cleveland. ”
“I read somewhere you work out four hours every day. How do you manage that with such a busy schedule?”
“It’s not easy. But I think staying healthy is important. I try to stick to a daily routine of exercise and eating well.” Except today, when he’d devoured more bakery items than he’d eaten in the past five years.
“Well, I think our viewers would agree, you sure manage to make exercise look good. I’ll be anxious to try the new fitness center once it’s built. Any idea when that might be?”
Hank kept his smile in place. “As I said, nothing’s decided at this point.”