Page 14 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
In my office, I sat in my velvet chair, turning my laptop on. “I’m not running away. I simply don’t wish to discuss this with you.”
He pulled out the pink chair in front of my desk and sat. “It’s okay to talk to me about things other than our jobs, you know. Besides, you’re the one who brought this subject up.”
“But why do we need to when we have things to do?”
He ran his hands up and down the armrests. “Because it makes life more fun? You never know when a new friendship is waiting to happen.”
Yeah, well, in my experience, no one cared about hearing how hard it was to take care of a sick parent and worrying about money all the time. Since that’s all I had going for me at the moment, there wasn’t much else to say. I met his vivid brown eyes. They were the same color as cremini mushroom tops. “Is that what you’re hoping for here?” I asked, pointing between us. “Friendship?”
He smiled sadly at me. “I’m not hoping for anything, Chef Dewhurst. If we became friends, that would be great as it would make our jobs a little more fun. If you want to maintain a strict professional boundary, I’ll respect that.”
What did I want? I hadn’t made any new friends in quite some time. Did I even know how to be a friend, let alone blur boundaries between home and work?
My phone buzzed, reminding me I had an appointment on my calendar. I ignored his question since I remained unsure of what I wanted. “I’m going out front to let our candidate in.”
He stood, motioning for me to exit my office first. Snatching a clean jacket from the back of my door, I slid past him, staying silent on the short walk to the front entrance. I unlocked the interior and exterior doors, then stood by the hostess desk, waiting for our guest to arrive.
Rhett stood next to me, his hands in his front pockets. “Why won’t you answer my question?”
Chapter 6
Rhett
Ireallydidn’tunderstandHolly’s need to keep everything boxed up. Would it really hurt that much for her to share onetinydetail about her personal life? She was acting like my questions were a hostile interrogation.
Maybe it was time to be a little more subtle. Ease her into a friendship, like entering a hot tub. One toe at a time, until she was comfortable enough to settle in for a nice, long soak. Unless she didn’t want to be friends. Then there was no use trying to learn anything about her.
She sighed. “Not everyone likes talking all the time, unlike you.” She fluttered her hand up and down in my direction.
So her refusal to answer my question had nothing to do with me. Holly just didn’t like talking, ever?Sounds like Jack.“What exactly do you mean by that?”
She faced me head on. “It’s not easy for me to discuss details about myself with strangers.”
We’d worked together for almost a month. “We’re hardly strangers,” I pointed out.
“Aren’t we, though?” She raised a brow. “Besides the fact that you work here and that your uncle owns this place, what else have you told me about yourself?”
Not a lot, atherinsistence. But I knew things about Holly that she hadn’t told me. I just picked up on them. Like how she preferred her coffee black. She furrowed her brows often when observing her workers. She always came to work with her hair down and pulled it back in the hallway before walking into the kitchen. Her voice was a beautiful medley of sound, even when it took on the commanding tone in the kitchen. Her office showed she liked bold colors, and I’d bet by the red sports car she drove, she had a wild side she kept hidden.
I didn’t say anything of that, in case she thought I was a freaky stalker instead of just observant. “What do you want to know about me?” I was a fairly open book, unless it came to my mental health or my exes.
“Why restaurant management?”
How did I phrase this so I didn’t come across as a rich, stuck-up snob? “Growing up, we often went out to dinner since my dad worked a lot and my mom can barely boil water, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” I grinned, remembering my mom trying to make cookies when I was little. They’d turned out salty, flat, and crisp as a cracker. “I love my mom, but her strengths lie elsewhere. Anyway, everything about restaurants fascinated me. The people who came to ask what I wanted, the workers tucked in the back using appliances I had no clue how to use, and food that was so delicious it almost seemed magical.”
I rubbed the side of my neck. “My dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps and become an investment banker like him. The thought of sitting behind a desk all day staring at numbers literally made me itch with boredom. I couldn’t do it. I love the hustle and bustle of the job, the challenges, the fact that we’re creating a memory for those who dine with us. People come here to celebrate their biggest moments in life. I love that I get to witness it, play a small part in it.”
Holly offered me a soft smile. “That’s a really good reason.”
“What about you? Why become a chef?”
She pointed at me. “No laughing.”
I drew a cross over my heart with my finger. “I won’t.”
She kept her gaze on the floor. “My mom and I loved to spend time together in the kitchen growing up. We constantly had the cooking channel on. Every Saturday morning before chores, we’d find a new breakfast recipe to try. I always wanted to be one of the chefs on those shows because they inspired me to learn different methods and recipes. I followed that dream. Well, not by going on a show, but becoming a chef.”
Loved, as in, used to? Why didn’t they cook together anymore? Why had she thought I would laugh at that? And look at that, she’d said something about herself and lived to tell the tale. “I love that you knew what you wanted at a young age and went after it. My best friend is in California right now competing onBaking Spirits Bright.”
