Page 112 of Stirring Up Love
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Bella’s smirk. She knew he had the chops; she’d trained him herself.
“My wife always jokes I couldn’t fry an egg if my life depended on it.” Mr.Donovan chuckled, but Finn was too on edge to join in. “Teach me to cook a meal from the menu here at Bellaire, and if I master the dish, then we’ll sit down and talk. Those are our terms. Do you accept?”
Finn stood next to Keith at the cooktop, shocked into autopilot. He couldn’t remember agreeing to their outlandish offer, could barely remember his own name, but he could train someone to season and sear a steak in his sleep. A handy skill, because his mind was toast.
The same woman who he thought wanted him out of her life had petitionedThe Executiveson his behalf. Constance’s presence in the dining room was evidence of how much Simone cared. Keith standing here next to him, scraping a pat of butter into the pan under his direction, was proof of her confidence in him.
Somehow she’d forgiven him, or at least given him an opening, and he didn’t dare squander her gift. He’d misjudged her, yet again. Didn’t feel worthy of this huge opportunity. But that was the stupid worthless feeling talking.
Simone had granted him a chance beyond his wildest dreams, and he chose to believe himself worthy of investment. He would impart his knowledge to Keith to the best of his abilities, then go out and nail the pitch he should’ve given in California. The pitch that matched his heart’s desire.
One of his heart’s desires.
And then? Then, he’d find a way to win back his other heart’s desire. Simone.
CHAPTER 40
SIMONE
It had been three weeks since she’d videoconferenced withThe Executivesand lost out on $200,000.
Three weeks since she’d asked them to give Finn a second chance.
Three weeks of wondering if the billionaires had decided to help fund his dream of giving others a future.
Three weeks, and she’d missed Finn every moment. But she hadn’t wasted a single minute wallowing in self-doubt. She was done second-guessing her relationships and keeping herself on the outs. And she was ready to get to work on her own dream.
The first item on her list? Swapping out the beadboard counter for an upcycled glass display case. Then she’d called up Ruth, who’d been thrilled about the idea of selling her beeswax candles and handmade soap year round. She’d even offered to develop an exclusive line of scents for Honey and Hickory.
Next, Simone bought a refrigerated case secondhand to stock Alisha’s cookies and local goods. Tim’s goat-milk products were a shoo-in, now that she’d forgiven him for letting Finn take over his booth.
On a clothing rack behind the register went the screen-printed logo shirts she’d ordered back in summer and left in boxes in the office. Why wait for a storefront? She’d let her perfectionism hold her captive too long. It might take years to get the restaurant to her high standards, but if she held her breath for a celebrity investor, she’d be Pops’s age and nothing would’ve changed.
Same with herself. A harder pill to swallow, but she was fed up with lonely days and nights spent on the couch. Done waiting to have her life in picture-perfect shape before seeking out friendship. People could either love her as a work in progress, or not.
Turned out her old friends were enthusiastic about making up for lost time and eager for the chance to have a part in her plan for the town as well. Derek, who’d married young and gone from spray-painting graffiti on road signs to teaching art class at the local high school, offered to paint a mural in the dining room and another on the alley wall outside.
Word of mouth had spread, and within a week, her front-of-house refrigerator was stocked with local foods, plus she’d added a dry goods section. The shirts sold out, and she put in another order for tees, adding sweatshirts and hoodies by popular demand.
Operation Farmers’ Market on Steroids was a go.
But one person had stayed quiet ever since Alisha’s wedding, the person whose blessing she wanted most, and he was sitting across from her, leaning back in his chair like he wanted to put some distance between himself and the platter of tempeh barbecue sliders.
“Vegetarian barbecue?” Pops made it sound like blasphemy.
She grinned. Silence was damning, but pushback she could handle. “Yep. I want to make sure there’s something for everyone here. And expanding our options makes sense from a business standpoint. If we’re getting more out-of-town customers, we need to offer dishes to suit a variety of dietary needs and preferences.” She nudged the plate toward him. “C’mon, I bet you’ll love it.”
He picked up a slider and took a bite, then went back for another with a murmur of appreciation. “That’s actually tasty,” he admitted. “But why’d you go and make new buns? We’ve already got rolls on the menu.”
“Yeah, but these are gluten-free.”
“Quit lying.” He twisted the roll around, scrutinizing it like he was trying to ascertain its chemical makeup, then took another bite and chewed, brow creased in thought. “Vegetarian options I guess I can get used to, even though we used to have a pig on the sign,” he said, and chuckled. “But who comes to a barbecue joint looking for breakfast?”
“The same people who come to stay overnight and want more options than a muffin from the tea shop, or a greasy drive-through breakfast.” She had numbers to back this up, but Pops cared about flavor. She valued both.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to stay true to our roots and put a barbecue spin on everything. Like these home fries.” Shifting the platter, she pushed another plate toward them. “I seasoned them with smoked paprika. Try them with some egg.”
Pops swiped a cubed potato through runny yolk and held it up to the light on the tines of his fork. She stifled a smile. He looked just like one of the reality-chef judges he always roasted.
