Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Last night, on Jaylyn’s insistence, Honesty had drunk one too many margaritas. Considering the pounding of her head this morning, maybe two too many.
In addition to Dante’s sister being an old soul, and a self-proclaimed “good witch,” the woman could also handle her tequila.
Before Honesty realized what happened, appetizers had led to margaritas at the bar. So, yes, too many margaritas. But the right amount of laughter and fun.
It was quickly becoming apparent that Jaylyn could be one of Honesty’s close friends.
“Here’s some Alka-Seltzer. Don’t worry. It happens to the best of us.” Gabby set down a glass of fizzy liquid. Honesty guzzled it down.
“Thank you.” She hadn’t meant to tie one on last night, especially since Dante was coming into her office today at her behest to review details about the charity.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Gabby asked.
Honesty waved her off. “You’ve already done too much and it’s not even a workday. I can handle Dante.”
“I bet you can. Can I stick around until he shows up? I want one good look at him in person.” Gabby weaved her fingers together in a pleading gesture.
Honesty had to laugh. “Of course you can. You don’t have to leave, but I don’t want to hold you hostage either.”
“I don’t mind!” Gabby chirped before pivoting on one foot and bopping her way to her desk.
Oh, to have her energy today.
Fifteen minutes later, Honesty couldn’t say she was at one hundred percent, but she was feeling better than when she’d arrived.
As she was refilling her mug with coffee, she saw movement through the window. Dante was dressed casually in chinos and one of those tight T-shirts that sculpted his biceps so beautifully. He waved as she approached the front door. As she flipped the lock to let him in, she heard Gabby say, “Holy…”
Honesty was inclined to agree.
“Good morning.” His rumbly voice made the standard greeting sound far more sexy than it should have.
“Thanks for coming in. Everything I need is here, so it made more sense to… What?” She had to ask because he was inventorying her person, his brows pinched.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes?” She looked down at her floral dress, cropped denim jacket, and sandals. She hadn’t buttoned her dress wrong or spilled coffee on herself. “Is this the part where I’m offended because you’re implying I look terrible?”
He shook his head. “You don’t look terrible. You look amazing. But something in your eyes tells me that last night might have gone on a bit longer than you had anticipated?”
“She’s hungover, but I have been taking care of her,” Gabby butted in to say.
“Hi, I’m Gabriela, her assistant. I’m not going to stay much longer, but I did want to let you know that I am available if you ever need any help with anything.
Including Honesty. That’s her second cup of coffee.
She’s also had some Alka-Seltzer, and a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel from around the corner.
She should be well on her way to mending. ”
As Dante listened to Gabby, his eyebrows climbed his forehead. He was mildly amused, if the tilt of his mouth was anything to go by.
“Thank you, Gabriela. I look forward to working with you in the future.”
“You can call me Gabby.” She swung back-and-forth like a fangirl at a boy band concert. When she regained her ability to speak, she made sure to call over her shoulder, “Call me if you need anything! Anything at all!”
“She’s really great,” Honesty assured him.
“She seems great. It’s important to be surrounded by people who care.”
“Coffee?” she asked as they passed by the coffee station.
“Sure.” He glanced around her workspace. “Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks.” She loved her building and had carefully chosen each and every element in here. From the light, natural woods to the soft cream and green tones, to the vibrant colorful photos of salads and fruits on the walls.
Gabby’s desk was located nearest the door, with three temporary workspaces along the wall for floating employees. Honesty’s office was at the far end, past everyone’s desks and demarcated by a frosted glass door.
Dante touched a plant leaf as he walked by. “This space is very you. You’re lucky to have this much natural light.”
“It’s why I didn’t want to be downtown. My plants would suffer.” She smiled up at him.
He set their coffees aside on her desk and then bent to kiss her, his lips lingering over hers in the sweetest way. She let her eyes flutter shut as she gripped the soft cotton of his T-shirt and inhaled his fresh Sunday-morning scent.
When he pulled away, she heard herself emit a small hum.
“My sentiments exactly,” he murmured. “There is no reason for us to do this today if you’re not up to it.”
“I can make it work. Besides, you’re already here.”
“This is my sister’s fault. I know how persuasive she can be. Let me take you somewhere more comfortable.”
“I am comfortable.” She gestured at her office. “Honest Nutrition, with its spa feel, live plants, and ample sunlight, is practically utopia.”
“But there’s no bed.”
“As we’ve proven recently, we don’t need a bed.” She tucked her fingers into the neck of his T-shirt and brought his mouth to hers. He didn’t fight her, and she liked that a lot.
“What if we want to make the lemon tart?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, a mischievous smile on his face.
“I have a kitchen space right through that doorway.” She kissed him briefly. “As much as I’d like to turn our afternoon into something more, I need to make the most of my limited energy.”
“Fine.” He straightened but kept his hands on her hips. “I’ll behave. For a while.”
The next several hours were productive, if distracting. Honesty kept her eyes on her work as much as possible, but it was hard not to admire the man lounging in her guest chair.
She found confidence and intelligence incredibly sexy. He had both in spades. Not to mention his demeanor. Gone was the slick and smooth-talking version of him, as if he had shed his hard edges and business-first attitude.
He looked relaxed and calm, his black notebook balanced on his knee as he scribbled words into it.
“Okay, we have your next steps outlined. We’ve scheduled the launch dinner. I can work with Eli’s staff to get that planned. I don’t want you worrying about logistics when you have a business to run.”
She practically collapsed with relief. The ceremony they were planning to have was a private event, much like the one she’d spoken at, and would host donors, their families, and the families that Eli’s charity served.
It was a big to-do, which was exactly where her mind had gone.
To everything she’d have to do to make sure it was a success.
“Although, you should oversee the menu. The food will be catered but should be exactly what you want. No crappy canapés or melted mousse.”
She smiled. “That, I can do.”
He scribbled something else in his notebook. “What was the name of the client Eli gave you, again?”
“Michael Tillsbury.”
“How’d that go? Did you have a chance to reach out yet?”
“I’ve called three times.” She picked up her phone to check the screen to see if there were any missed calls or messages—nothing. “I also sent two texts and left a voicemail.”
Dante didn’t hesitate. “What if we offer to give him groceries for a year and have them delivered?”
She smiled. He was trying to solve a problem that didn’t need to be solved. “Have you heard that if you help a butterfly out of its cocoon it will die?”
He frowned.
“The struggle to free themselves strengthens their wings. Michael needs to strengthen his wings. And in order to do that, he has to believe this will work for him.”
“You sure you don’t want another prospect? I can call Eli.”
“No. I’m not giving up on him.” She needed to show Michael that her program was about more than sheet pan dinners. This was about his autonomy. His belief in himself. He could focus on creating something rather than what the injury had taken from him.
Dante’s dark eyes were trained on her face when he said, “You’re incredible, did you know that?”
All of her warmed at the compliment. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The air sizzled between them until he blinked. He glanced back down at his list. “There’s one thing left to do, and that’s name your charity. And the best name is already taken.” He tipped his head toward the frosted door where Honest Nutrition was etched into the glass.
“I came up with a list of ideas. Some of them are…not great, but you need context.”
“Hit me.”
She rattled off a list of a dozen options, some of which included Welcome Home, The Freedom Plate, and Ready, Set, Nourish. Dante gave her a dubious look when he heard that one.
“Don’t panic. I have a favorite.” She cleared her throat. “Long Live Food.”
Dante nodded. “Long Live Food. It’s perfect.”
She’d named it for Christian.
Back when he was still learning to cook, she’d handed him a veggie chopper and he’d scowled at the box. “You’re already missing part of your leg. Let’s not add missing fingers to the mix,” she’d told him.
He’d laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. Then he’d bowed at the waist and said, “Long live the queen.”
“No, long live food.” She hadn’t had the idea for a nonprofit at the time, but the memory stuck. She wished he were here to see it come to fruition.
“The name allows you to expand,” Dante said now. “If you ever want to create different branches. We don’t want to pigeonhole you, because this could be huge.”
“Don’t say that. Huge scares me. This is about all I can handle.”
“You’ll grow with your business. Trust me. If you built this”—he gestured at her office—“from scratch, this pilot is going to soar.”
“Because of my billionaire backers?” she teased.
“Because of you. The vision is the glue that holds everything together. You keep that in mind, the rest will work itself out.”
She had started from almost nothing. A dream and business cards she’d designed herself.
To go from that to her first ten clients had been thrilling.
She’d found a building to lease, had gutted and decorated it with the help of her parents.
Then came Gabby, and contracted employees. And now, Long Live Food.
In a way, she’d created her own universe.
“Next stop, put a board in place,” she said.
“And assign someone you trust to run it.”
“Not Beatrice Banks?”
“Sure. But it’s going to cost her a hell of a lot more than fifty K.”
She had to smile. Agreeing to accept the grant from the Moretti Foundation had given her options. She’d be jumping through hoops for Beatrice if it wasn’t for Dante.
She thought about her own story of the butterfly’s wings and hoped she wasn’t weakening her own resolve by accepting his help.
But then she remembered what Gabby was always telling her: it was safe to accept help from others.
And wasn’t that exactly what Long Live Food had been built around? Veterans accepting help?
Dante and Eli were helping her walk so that she could run. She’d take that help.
The logistical issues, contracts and forms, legal issues—she would figure them out. She had support and was surrounded by people who had gone before her.
“You’ve made amazing headway today. How about lunch?” Dante asked.
“Definitely.”
They strode to the front door and she locked up behind them. He folded his fingers around hers. “Since we both drove, how do you want to do this?”
“I guess that depends on where we’re going to eat. Any ideas?”
He slid her a glance suggesting that there was no way he would leave that to chance. “I’ll drive. We’ll pick up your car tomorrow.”
“What are you implying, sir?” She playfully propped her hand on her hip.
“That didn’t sound like a no.” He slid his eyes over to her as he smiled.
It wasn’t a no. And they both knew it.