Page 29 of The Hang Up

He glanced at me and cracked a smile. I squeezed his hand in encouragement. “I wanted to start fresh, you know. The past stuff is the past stuff. And I get that it will always be there and that this might not be a long-term thing, but for now, I wanted it to be just us. Joshua and Brock.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Joy bubbled inside me. “You’re kind of sweet. You know that?”

“You’re kind of a brat. But you definitely know that.”

And as we drove to dinner two towns away, I thought maybe,maybethis could work.

* * *

The restaurant was busy,but I had no idea why. The food was awful. Maybe not awful, awful. A step up from fast food. Barely. And yes, being a chef in training made me less tolerant and hyper-aware of food. I could tell when it wasn’t cooked properly and what was wrong with it.

“Do you like the chicken?” Joshua asked, watching me a little too closely.

I swallowed the dry bite with a gulp of water to help wash it down. “It’s good. Fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” His jaw tightened. “I’m going to kill Mitch.”

I put my fork down. It wasn’t like I’d wanted to eat it anyway. “Mitch? Your assistant? Does he still work for you?”

“Yes, Mitch, my assistant,” he said, his gaze softening as it landed on me. “And yes, he still works for me.”

“But you’re retired. Why do you need an assistant?”

“Mitch handles my business things. It’s like having a planner, but instead of paper or an app, it’s a person.”

“A cute person who has a crush on you.”

He laughed as if I’d said something totally out of the realm of possibility. “No. He does not.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Really?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “When? At the restaurant?”

I pushed my plate away and crossed my arms. “No. When you were in the hospital.”

“Right.” He studied my face. “Mitch was concerned for me.”

“Very concerned,” I said in a sullen voice.

“Are you jealous? Of Mitch?”

“No.” Why was I being so moody? I was the one here with Joshua. I sighed. “I’m just a little irritated that you had your assistant set up our dinner reservations.”

Joshua leaned forward, catching my gaze. “If you want to know something, Brock, just ask me. I don’t do games.” He held up his hand. “I’m not saying you’re playing games—don’t give me that look—but don’t assume you know what’s going on. I asked Mitch for recommendations. He’s been to this area and knows the restaurants.”

Tension eased from my body. “And this is where he sent you?”

“That’s why I’m going to have a talk with him.”

My face felt like it was on fire. As hot as the convection oven at Shultie’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing.

Things got better after that. The first bite of lemon meringue pie was good. But that was as far as we got.

“Damn it.” Joshua scooted closer to the wall.

“What?” I started to look around. But he squeezed my arm.

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