Chapter 22
Fiona led Porter to the bar down the street. As far as she could tell, the guy needed a drink. He’d been working constantly since the restaurant opened, and he never seemed to blow off steam. It was Monday, and the restaurant was closed for the night. So Fiona figured they could have a few drinks, relax a little…and maybe convince him that Hearth didn’t need a lounge after all.
The bar was pretty lively for a Monday afternoon. The smell of beer and fried chicken wafted out the front door, and Garth Brooks played in through the speakers.
Porter and Fiona chose a tall table in the back. They ordered a flight of beer to start, and a pretzel with beer cheese dip.
It was strange to have a full night off, and to be out on the town on a Monday afternoon, but Fiona decided to embrace it. Yes, they had a major decision to make. But nothing was going to be decided today, so they might as well just have fun.
After a couple beers, Porter finally seemed to unwind, just a little.
“So, tell me about New York,” he said, dipping his pretzel into the cheese. “Do you miss it?”
Fiona tensed up, like she did whenever someone brought up New York. But they had time, and she had alcohol in her system, so she was surprisingly okay with sharing the whole saga.
“When I went out there I was young, naive and broke,” she started. She could remember everything about that first day. The pride she felt handing over the boarding pass that she’d paid for. The excitement of riding in a cab through the city for the first time. The potential she felt in all of it, even as she crashed on couch after couch, night after night.
“I had so many dreams. I wanted to work on modeling shoots, TV shows and movies doing hair. I really thought that was the place to be to make it all happen. And then,” she said, taking another gulp of her beer, “I was out with some friends one night, and I met a guy. He was charming, and handsome. And he came from money.”
Dexter. Fiona remembered him singling her out that night. He was surrounded by beautiful women, but he kept looking over at her.
“Pizza turned into breakfast, breakfast turned into a three year relationship,” she said, lost in the memory. “He took care of me. In exchange, I had to slowly change myself. Dress the way he said I should dress. Act the way he said I should act. He nearly didn’t let me go to beauty school, but thank god I did.”
Fiona stared down at the table, the emotions of that time rushing back. “My best friend from high school came to visit me one day. She saw him outside the building, kissing another girl. Some woman with a trust fund, who his parents approved of. And my friend convinced me it was time to leave. He dumped me immediately when I confronted him. I felt like a failure. But I moved in with my friend down here anyway.”
Her eyes met Porter’s briefly, but there was an intensity in his expression that caught her off guard, so she looked away.
“At first, I was a loose cannon. I had felt so confined in that relationship that when I broke free, I went off the rails. Drinking, partying. Norm gave me so many chances at the salon, but it wasn’t until he threatened to fire me that I cleaned up my act.”
She finished off the last of the beer, knowing she would regret this later.
“I became so determined to stand on my own two feet after that,” she said. “It’s part of the reason I’m so passionate about this new business. It’s something I’m helping to build, and I’m proud of myself for getting to this point.”
Fiona cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she said, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden. “Why did you leave New York?”
Porter gave a slight smile. “Because the whole city smelled bad.”
Fiona laughed. A real, weightless laugh. When Porter started laughing, she laughed even more. She couldn’t tell what was funny anymore, but she was having a wonderful time laughing with him.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, tapping her elbow. “I have another question.”
“Okay,” she said, still giggling as she sipped her beer.
“Why did you try to kiss me the day we went to the market?”
Fiona shook her head. “Mmm, that’s not how I remember it.”
Porter grinned. “Well, how do you remember it?”
She raised a brow at him.
“I thought you were going to kiss me, so I got all ready, and all you were doing was pulling a leaf out of my hair. And then I died of embarrassment for weeks.”
Porter tried to cover his laughter, but Fiona threw a napkin at him.
“Don’t laugh! I was really embarrassed, Porter.”
“Sorry,” he said, still chuckling. “But you wanted me to kiss you?”
At his expression, Fiona could feel herself sobering up. But she’d been honest up to this point, so why not?
“I felt a connection with you, and I haven’t felt that in a long time. It was…nice.” She looked up at him, his gray eyes intense. “Also I thought you were hot, so that helped.”
Porter was laughing and blushing now, which she found incredibly attractive.
This is bad, she thought. She should have probably been texting one of her friends to come get her, but she knew she wasn’t going to.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he said quietly, staring down at his beer. “And I’ve thought about it every single day since.”
He looked at her intently, and it took a minute for her thoughts to catch up. She didn’t even know what to say. She just wondered if this was the alcohol talking, or if he meant what he said.
She stared at him, waiting for him to look away or say he was kidding, but he didn’t.
And suddenly, she wanted to run.
“Maybe I should go,” she said, grabbing her purse.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He was still watching her. She was flustered, dropping her phone and nearly spilling her drink. But he was still, and calm.
“Porter–”
“I’m just saying,” he said, shrugging. “I’m not ready to call us a ride and say I’ll see you at work tomorrow. I don’t want to be your boss right now. I just want a little more time. Do you?”
Fiona took a shaky breath and sat back down.
“What should we do next?”