Page 21 of Stirring Up Love
The boulder teetered near the cliff’s edge. Giving in to temptation, he put a shoulder to it and rolled it off. “Everyone fails sometimes, Simone. It’s not that bad.” The words stuck in his throat like peanut butter and jelly on white bread, cloying and pasty.
She backed away. How could she not? He was an expert at repelling people.
“And you’ve already failed once,” he said, voice thick.
She stopped, wary, her defenses up. “How’s that?”
“You tried to get rid of me. But here I am. And I’m not going anywhere.” He wasn’t going anywhere, but she would.
A voice piped up before he could silence it, telling him if he was anything special, anything worth holding on to, it wouldn’t have been so easy for all the families to discard him. He didn’t doubt that Simone, too, would tire of their squabbles and brush him aside like the cloud of gnats gathered overhead. He never held anyone’s interest for long.
But for now, in this moment, he held all her attention. All of her focus, all of her fire.
She stepped closer again, and his pulse thrummed in anticipation. “You’re wrong about one thing. I’ve failed plenty. But I’m not going to fail at this. And since you insist on staying, you’ll get a front-row seat to my success. Enjoy the upgrade from the cheap seats.”
She turned and sauntered away. Done with the confrontation. Done with him.
Cheap seats?Oh heck no. Insult his sauce? Whatever. Insult him? Fine. But she’d hit a nerve by smack-talking like a spoiled princess.
Dazzled by her beauty—and that was on him—he’d forgotten for a moment she was selling hand-me-down sauce from an inherited restaurant. Secure by birthright in comforts he’d spent his childhood chasing, only to fail, again and again.
Forget forfeiting. Not only did he plan to show up and outsell Simone Blake every week, but he’d accept the invitation to pitch his brand onThe Executives. Win an investment and prove once and for all, in front of the whole country, that he mattered.
He might come from nothing, but he was going somewhere.
Cheap seats? She’d be watching his victory from the couch.
CHAPTER 9
SIMONE
December
The studio lights blazed down, cooking Simone like a slab of ribs, but she chastised her sweat right back into her pores. She refused to wilt, wouldn’t think of flinching, and sure as heck wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated by the razor-sharp duo of investors seated at the other end of the mock boardroom table.
Six months ago she’d applied for a chance to appear as a contestant on the entrepreneurial reality showThe Executives. Six long months of waiting to earn recognition in her own right. Six short months to prepare, to rebrand Honey and Hickory online, launch a marketing campaign for her sauce, and create a rock-solid expansion and renovation plan worthy of investment.
Six months of pushing aside the fear the investors might transform her beloved Honey and Hickory into something unrecognizable.
Those six months ended today in a Los Angeles television studio, encircled by an audience whose votes would be tallied in her favor, or not. No time left for second thoughts.
Win over the investors with her plan; win over the audience with her charisma. A two-pronged challenge. Not simple but achievable.
Get it done, Simone.
She stood at the end of the table in a black, puff-sleeved jumpsuit and her favorite pair of heels, chin up, arms folded in a rehearsed power pose as the host introduced her to the investors, audience, and millions of viewers tuned in live. Then the lights dimmed in a swooping rush until she stood alone under a bright spotlight.
Practiced. Poised. In control of herself, her restaurant, and her future.
Go time.She dropped her arms to her sides and opened her mouth.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting this way.”
The voice came from over her shoulder. Smooth and deep as a sun-warmed lake, the voice masked an interior as slimy as seaweed lurking below the surface.
Finn freaking Rimes.
Simone kept her smile in place and prayed her expression didn’t have the queasy quality of a beauty queen who’d had her crown snatched off by a runner-up. The cultivated calm inside her whipped up into reckless indignation at the sound of that voice.Hisvoice.
