Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I t was after noon before Quinley emerged from her room. Elias had been concerned at the silence, given her emotional upheaval with her ex, until he’d finally heard the low thump of her feet hitting the floor and soon after, the shower running.
She’d dried her hair and then things had gone silent once again. For a while. Until he heard her talking. And talking. A few swear words had sounded and then mutters said in tones different than the one she used when talking to whomever she spoke to.
That had gone on for quite a while, too. Hours, actually. He’d left her alone, working on his computer with the television on low before clicking off to scroll through his social media feed. That’s where he’d seen Quinley’s video and recognized the background of the cabin behind her.
All the talking had been her recording her statement for the press. For her ex.
He looked up at the television and realized the station he’d turned on was now playing the video as breaking news.
He turned up the volume until he could hear it better and watched the video in its entirety before hearing her footsteps approaching her bedroom door. He hit the Mute button as she entered the living area.
She wore the same outfit as she’d worn in the video, and he saw her gaze flick to the television before sliding back to him. She looked uncomfortable. Worn down. But maybe a little relieved?
“Well?” she asked. “Any critiques?”
He took in her strained features. Quinley wore a light dusting of makeup that helped but didn’t hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. She’d braided her thick, long hair and wore it over one shoulder.
Today she wore her own clothing and was dressed casually in leggings and a long-sleeved, lightweight sweater that looked soft and expensive, and short leather boots.
She looked…beautiful. Elegant yet casual and very different from the perfectly groomed but frantic doll who’d jumped into the limo days ago.
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t watched it so he shrugged. “It was perfect. The news crew seems receptive, too, from what I can tell,” he said, lifting his hand to indicate the television. “One of them commended you for stopping the wedding instead of going through with it only to divorce afterward. Has your ex responded?”
She crossed her arms over her front like she held herself together. “He and his people are the ones who released it. I left it up to them. After everything I’ve done, I felt I owed Rhys the right to see it first.”
That was trusting. With today’s technology, videos could be easily manipulated and changed, especially by someone with her ex’s power and employees at his fingertips. “How are you feeling? Now that it’s done?”
Her gaze shifted away from his to the television, and he watched as she inhaled. Her full chest rose, and he quickly forced his gaze back to her face.
Quinley was off-limits. A friend in need and one he’d helped because it was the right thing to do. That was the extent of their relationship. The beginning and end. There would never be anything else. She was too…unpredictable. Like a turbulent sea tossed by wind and storms, lit by lightning, sunshine and blue skies in the distance while boats were battered between.
“Relieved, I think? I mean, I’m sure the haters are going to hate, but I’ve made the statement now, and they can rip it apart if they want, but—at least it’s done. It’s my truth, and it’s out there. Maybe it’ll be enough, and the crazy will blow over soon.”
“I hope you’re right.” For her sake, he meant it.
“I…also texted Rhys and apologized again. He was upset that I didn’t address you in the video, but I told him there was no need. He’s still going to pay for the wedding. I’m not on the hook for that. Nor are my parents, so…that’s good,” she said, nodding like a stressed bobblehead.
He heard nervousness in her tone, or maybe it was leftover adrenaline from sending the video and contacting her ex again. Either way, she shook with it.
“My clothes will arrive once I’m back in town. At the house,” she clarified. “Thank you for that, by the way. I’m not sure I thanked you last night.”
He nodded. “You did. Several times. I’m happy to help, Quinley.”
“Thanks—sorry. I keep apologizing because my brain is all over the place right now.”
Like the storm he’d just compared her to. Elias shut his laptop and stood from the couch. “I get it. Are you hungry? You missed breakfast.”
“I should be but no. I was thinking…wondering, what you wanted me to do now?”
He blinked at her, not following this change in topic. “What I want you to do?”
A careful expression blanketed her face. “This is your vacation, and I totally crashed it. I can’t say that I’m ready to go back to Carolina Cove, especially with your brother’s rental not being available yet and the statement just releasing today, but if you’d prefer it, I can…find another place to stay. I looked, but I didn’t book anything because I wasn’t sure how much of the wedding I’d have to pay for but now— I should find a cabin, shouldn’t I? Something like this that’s private since a hotel would be too public. Or I suppose I could have Axel take me back to Carolina Cove and see if Ana would put up with me the remainder of the week.”
She wanted to know if she should leave. If he wanted her to leave.
And while a part of him said yes—absolutely yes—another immediately went up in arms in protest. And her incessant rambling? “Do you want to go back there?”
“No, I don’t,” she said quickly with a firm shake of her head. “I’d scheduled off work for the next three weeks for the honeymoon, and while Ana would undoubtedly take me in until the house is available, she’d also drive me crazy with questions and her fussing. Plus, I’m sure there will be a few stragglers as far as the press goes, so I’d rather not subject her to that any more than she has been already.”
Ana’s neighbors would likely prefer that as well. As for himself… “You’re welcome to stay,” he said before he changed his mind. “Like I told your ex, the bedroom will go unused. It’s no big deal.”
Silence followed his words, the quietest she’d been since emerging from her room. Then she audibly swallowed and blinked.
“Are you sure ? I’ve imposed on you an awful lot already. Dragged you into a nightmare. And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You seriously didn’t have plans to go out ? There are some really nice restaurants and bars in the area. Lots to do. You didn’t want to try to…you know, meet someone? Bring them back here and…enjoy your vacation?”
He stood and walked toward the kitchen after leaving the couch. Along the way he ran a hand through his short hair and pondered her words.
When he’d planned his time away from the fishbowl of gossipy locals that made up Carolina Cove, he’d considered the potential of a casual hookup while away from prying eyes but then shrugged it off.
This vacation was more about taking a break from work, reducing his stress, while still formulating and figuring out his next steps in business. Sort of a one-person mastermind retreat. A working vacation, as it were, since technically his mind never stopped working. He liked it that way. It kept him from thinking too much about the unpleasant things life often offered, like a kick in the teeth.
Could he go and pick up a woman in a local bar? Did he want to? The thought held no appeal. He pursued those things when the need could no longer be denied but… “No, no plans. Just figuring out some things and maybe do some hiking.”
“I see. Well, if I stay here, I would like to repay you. Split the cost of the cabin.”
“There’s no need. Focus on doing damage control with your ex and Ana. On figuring out your job situation. You’ve got enough going on.”
“But I have to repay you somehow,” she said, her tone insistent and firm. Her face brightened. “What are you working on? Anything related to advertising? Social media? I might have some ideas. Remember, I’ve helped Ana with her boutique and Cole with the limo business.”
She had helped them, and her ideas had done well for both of them. Cole had implemented her plan, and bookings for the limo service had soared. “I’m agreeable to that. I have a new idea for a business, but I’m still thinking through details to see if it would be viable.”
“We can brainstorm,” she said, throwing the words he’d said to her on the drive to the cabin back at him. “I’m pretty good at my job. Despite,” she waved a hand toward the television, “that.”
He found himself smirking a bit at her wry expression. He liked that she could be self-deprecating. Liked that she was able to voice her mistakes, own them yet hold her head high because she knew she’d made the right decision for herself. “I’m going to make myself a sandwich and go for a walk. You want one?”
Her stomach growled loudly as if in response to his words, and he lifted an eyebrow at her.
That wry expression turned to pretty pinked cheeks and a wrinkled nose.
“I suppose that’s my sign that I do. Thanks. Let me help, though. I can’t sit here and let you do everything. If I’m going to stay, I’m going to help.”
“I thought penthouse princesses liked being waited on,” he mused softly.
All hint of humor disappeared from her expression.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, obviously that joke didn’t land. Too soon?”
She stared at him as she stalked toward him, chin lifted to a defiant angle. “Definitely. If anything, it’s more proof that I’m not… that ,” she said with a wave of her hand that looked royal.
He held her gaze for a long moment, thinking of what she’d revealed about her upbringing and having a housekeeper to cook and clean. “Okay, fine. You can help. Wash a tomato for us and slice it up while I get the other stuff.” Hopefully she wouldn’t cut a finger off in the process.
Elias noted Quinley didn’t so much as blink at the order. He studied her as she took in the tomatoes he’d picked up the morning of her wedding. She chose the reddest one, gently plucking it from the attached vine and carrying it to the sink. “You’ve been on your own for a while,” he said, thinking of the additional details the television newscaster had revealed about her. “No cook and housekeeper?”
She snorted. “Definitely not. Ana and I scraped by those early years. Ramen was our friend.”
He busied himself opening the fridge and removing the ingredients before snagging the favorite gluten-free bread he’d made for the trip. Anything baked was the hardest to get right when it came to living the lifestyle, the taste and texture of breads and cakes hard to master.
Things had come a long way over the years, but he’d done a lot of experimenting on his own, and the hint of rosemary and olive oil in his own creation far exceeded the store bought in his opinion. “That sounds like a story.”
“Nah, not really. We were just determined to make it on our own and not accept money from the parents because it always came with strings. So that’s what we did. We leaned on each other but paid our own way.”
The tomato was squeaky clean by the time she’d finished, and he watched as she found a knife and began slicing. “Is that why you ended things with your ex? The…strings?”
She paused for a second but then kept slicing. “Part of it. Plus, the bodyguards and the… expectation to look a certain way and never having privacy. I mean, I knew things would heat up before the wedding, but when they zoomed in on my body during my workouts and plastered my ‘problem areas’ all over the internet?”
The knife slammed to the counter as she finished, head down as she glared at the tomato. “I suppose they were used to seeing Rhys with models who were all bones and nothing else. And maybe I could’ve gotten over that after a while, but—the constant shadowing by the guards and the way Rhys would keep tabs on me while he traveled and did whatever? I know he did it to protect me, but I couldn’t live the rest of my life like that. Not when I didn’t feel… It was too much.”
He frowned when she didn’t finish her sentence but was well able to see how that would make life intolerable. He couldn’t imagine living that way either. Under a microscope and too many watchful eyes. He got sick of all the island gossip sometimes, and that was nothing compared to the things she’d listed. “I’m sorry that happened to you. All of it. No woman should ever be made to feel like that. Or be expected to live like that.”
She turned to face him and leaned her hips back against the counter, her long, elegant fingers curling around the edge of the countertop.
“What about you? What’s your dream? I’m not trying to intrude. We’ve already established that I need to figure out what I want out of my life now that I’ve pivoted, and I’m just wondering…what’s yours? Are you not content with the businesses you have? Is that why you’re looking into starting another, or is it a workaholic-nature kind of thing?”
Sunlight haloed her from where she stood with her back to the window over the sink, turning her golden hair into molten strands of spun fire. Her expression was soft and earnest and full of curiosity, and in that moment, he found himself stilling, relaxing, at being the center of it. “A restaurant,” he said, surprising himself with the admission.
“Really? So part of a franchise? Some type of sports bar or something?”
He shook his head. “No, something unique.” When she stared at him and waited for him to explain, he inhaled and voiced the idea he hadn’t shared with anyone. “I don’t eat out much. I can’t because restaurants typically offer a sad selection of food I’m able to eat, and even if they do, there is a high probability that the food’s been cross-contaminated. I’ve…been toying with the idea of a restaurant that caters to food allergies, takes them seriously, but—it’d be a huge undertaking and exceptionally expensive.”
She canted her head to one side, and he could tell she listened. Really listened. He stilled, reveling in the awareness.
“Go on,” she urged softly. “Think of me as an investor. Pitch it to me.”
He took a few seconds to gather his thoughts and pull them away from his body’s unnerving response to her. “The problem with the idea is that there are so many considerations beyond gluten. If someone is allergic to eggs, for example. That type of restaurant would require a highly trained chef and staff who understood that a mix-up could mean death to someone with severe allergies.”
“But it would be doable, right? If separate equipment was used?”
He nodded. “It’s possible. But that’s also another expense that would have to be considered. Then there are cleaning procedures and training the staff to commit fully to doing them. They couldn’t be watched every second of the day, and one slip…”
Her gaze shifted to the floor as she thought over his words.
“People from all over the world visit the Wilmington area every year. And allergies aside, I have European clients and friends who complain about the additives and chemicals in our foods that aren’t in theirs. I think they’d love a restaurant like yours as well, so it would be something to consider in advertising. Handling and safety would need to be addressed for sure but…” Her voice lowered as she expressed her thoughts. “That could also be a hiring incentive if you played it right though.”
He frowned at her words. “How so?”
“You don’t think wait and kitchen staff have allergies? Restaurants always give discounts or a meal to their workers during their shift, but if the worker can’t eat the food, what good is that as a perk? A worker with food allergies would be even more invested in making sure the food was safe.”
The words were said softly, thoughtfully, and he could practically see her mind whirling like a top as she pondered his idea.
And the hiring aspect? He hadn’t even thought of that. He knew legally he couldn’t require his employees to actually have an allergy, but if the food was geared a certain way and a meal was one of the perks, wouldn’t those with allergies be more likely to apply? Want to work somewhere they themselves felt safe to eat? It made sense. Like a built-in filter system of those caring just a bit more for the required procedures.
Quinley turned and grabbed the plate she’d used as a cutting board, carrying it to the island where he stood.
“That looks homemade,” she said, pointing at the bread.
“It is.”
“You make your own bread.”
A statement, not a question. “I make my own mix; the bread machine does the rest.”
She stretched out a hand and pulled a piece off the tiny heel slice he’d set to the side. It looked flaky and light and as it disappeared between her lips, he found himself holding his breath, waiting and trying not to notice how soft her lips looked as she chewed.
“You made that?”
Pride filled him, and he forced his gaze to her eyes as he nodded. “It’s my Italian blend.”
“Elias, it’s heavenly.”
“No eggs or dairy,” he added.
“How is that possible,” she asked, grabbing the rest of the heel to snag another piece. “I mean, admittedly I’m not much of a cook so I’m not sure what goes into bread, but it’s really good.”
She sounded so surprised that he bit back a grin. He quickly put together a small sandwich for her with the meat and other fixings he’d brought for it, added his mix of seasoned olive oil dressing and handed it to her. “Try this if you think that’s good.”
She set the last bite of the heel aside to accept the sandwich and take a bite. Her eyes widened as she chewed, shaking her head slowly back and forth.
“You don’t like it?” Disappointment filled him. More than he’d thought possible, considering it was a sandwich. Or was it the thought of disappointing her?
Once again, he locked down any thought of Quinley as more than a friend. An acquaintance.
“It’s fabulous.”
“Then why the head shake,” he asked, confused.
“Because—I judged, okay? When you start going on and on about it being gluten-free and egg-free and healthy , I didn’t think it could possibly be that good.”
“Ah,” he drawled, “my brothers do the same. If I can get my food on the table at family dinners before they know I brought it, they’re fine. Otherwise they avoid it like the plague. It’s…maddening.”
“Mmm, well, I apologize on behalf of all judgy eaters. Have you considered being the chef of this restaurant of yours? I mean, you’ve obviously got the passion and the skills,” she said once she’d swallowed the bite and prepared to take another.
He drew back, and this time he was the one shaking his head. “No, I have too many other things to do, and this— This is too important. I’d be happy to lend a hand when and where I could, but the food has to be more than my level of cooking.”
“Does it though?” she asked softly. “I mean, you could start small. Test the waters with a tray of sandwiches or offer your oil mixes in your other businesses?”
“Maybe.”
“Because that’s not the dream,” she said as if reading his mind.
“No, it’s not. I want to be able to go somewhere, sit down, and eat like everyone else. Eat with my family and friends.”
“Then that’s the goal,” she said firmly. “What’s step one?”
A low rush of air left his lungs. “Funding. I’ll never be able to sell my brothers on this. A restaurant like this is too…specific and still caters to a minority. To get my brothers’ backing and Blackwell Enterprises to fund it means I have to have a broader customer base. It’s smarter, more sustainable.”
She frowned at his words, but she didn’t argue the wisdom of it.
He made his own sandwich and had just finished stacking it when she took the last bite of hers and seemed surprised to find it gone.
“I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
“I can make you another one. You haven’t eaten much since you’ve been here.”
She patted her stomach and groaned. “No, I’m stuffed. That was delicious. But thank you. For everything. The food and the ride and a safe place to stay. All of it, Elias. If I can think of anything that might help you achieve your dream, consider it done.”
His gaze met hers, and—maybe for the first time—he was glad he wasn’t stuck in the cabin alone with his own thoughts and frustrations about how to make his restaurant a reality.
If Quinley could think of a way to make it happen, she would have more than earned her keep.