“Oh, I think they see more than just dollars,” she says and sighs.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, and I walk over to her, standing behind her. She inhales sharply, and I want to kiss the back of her neck, but dammit, we’re near a stove, with an open flame. “What else do they see?” I whisper.
Her body softens for the briefest moment, and she shrugs, playing it off. But then she admits, “You’re not hard on the eyes, Ryker.”
“Well, great, that makes me feel better. A woman after just my looks and my money,” I joke.
She laughs too, and then says, “I guess we have something in common.”
“People wanting us for our looks?”
“No,” she says, ignoring the compliment and walks over to the counter with the empty cherry boxes on it. She leans back against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. “I mean, about having nutty moms. My mom never cheated on any of her husbands, but she’s had a string of crap marriages, getting married for the wrong reasons. She was always looking for security.”
I watch her as she speaks, and I can see the frustration with her mom etched on her face. I walk over to her and stand next to her, giving her space this time, not touching her. I turn my face to her. “But my dad has convinced me, recently, that not all women are after my money,” I say, and then I bump my hip to hers playfully, and she gives me a smile.
“And I know that not all women cheat,” I continue. I step closer to her, hoping persistence is a virtue that will work for me, eventually. I can’t help it. I want to touch her. It’s that magnetic feeling again, always pulling me toward her. I close my eyes for a second, and I inhale her sweet scent. My pulse races, and she doesn’t move away this time. My eyes pop open when I realize this, and they meet hers.
“So what are you gonna do?” she says. “You know, with your dad and his firm and, well, the direction in your life.” She looks at me, and then she hands me more dishes to take to the sink, making me leave her side.
I do as she bids and head to the sink. I turn on the water to wash the dishes and say, over my shoulder, “You know, my dad was correct there, too. He has some interesting cases, although they’re not using my winning debate skills.” I pause and then add, “Though I have to wonder if I’m actually any good. I can usually win people over… everyone except you.”
And she laughs.
God, I love her laugh.
I finish the dishes and we keep talking. I enjoy sharing this stuff with her, not just to get to know each other better, but also because it’s helping me clarify my own thoughts. “Long-term, maybe I’ll do something part-time with law. I enjoy it, but the money has given me options, so I want to be smart about it. Find something I’m really passionate about. I don’t know yet.”
She nods and walks over to the double-stack, commercial ovens and turns them on. She opens the refrigerator and gets out the dough. I’m amazed at how fast the time is flying. I enjoy her company so much. She sets the dough on the counter and asks, “Can you please turn the air conditioning a few degrees cooler? The thermostat is in the dining room, by the grandfather clock.”
I do as she asks, and as I walk back into the kitchen, I say, “So tell me more about the hotel.”
Her gorgeous face lights up like the sun rising, and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. Her eyes fill with joy and determination as she says, “It’s my dream come true. I love the idea of meeting travelers and having a place for them to stay that’s warm and cozy. And since we have the bistro already, the ‘breakfast’ part will be easy. And! It’s a way to become financially independent!”
Her smile is so big, and she gestures her hands around the kitchen, “I love baking! And I love running the restaurant with my mom. But we wanted to expand, and do something more than just open another restaurant. We wanted to try something different.”
“I’m glad to hear everything is working out for you, but if it’s so important, why didn’t you let me invest?”
She looks at me, and the friendly face from a moment ago fades. “I already told you. I don’t want to be beholden to a man for my dream. I didn’t need your help.” She turns her back to me and unwraps the dough. She sprinkles flour onto the stainless steel table and starts rolling it out.
“Aspen, that doesn’t make any sense.” I counter smoothly, but my irritation is growing. “You were going to have a male investor, anyway.”
“Yeah, and he’s like 70 years old.”
Ahh. I smile inwardly, and my irritation quickly evaporates. “So, you didn’t take my investment… because you’re attracted to me, and I’m in my 20s.”
“Fine, whatever,” she says, matter-of-factly. “But also, your rude behavior. The way you treated me when you first came into the diner. We have a no-assholes rule. If you’d done it again, you would’ve been banned permanently. Going into business with you was never an option. I’m smart enough not to take an investment from a jerk. It’s guaranteed to end badly, and I wasn’t that desperate.”
I sidle next to her again. “Well, now that you know me better—now that you know I’m not actually a jerk—would you have taken it? Had I offered it today… less risky? Hm?”
“Nope.”
I huff. “What? Why the hell not?”
“Because!” She huffs back, and her spine straightens like it’s been replaced by the shaft of a
