Page 70 of The Chef's Kiss
But wrong was usually right with this woman. Her lips twitched, and she finally lifted her gaze. “Not as much as I wish I could have one.”
“So, last night was—”
“A success.” Her words were so final I couldn’t argue. “Just because people showed up at the end to ruin it doesn’t mean we didn’t hold a successful opening.”
“Soft opening,” I clarified.
She shrugged. “I may have forgotten the soft part.”
“You don’t say.”
“Maybe if I hadn’t, random jerks wouldn’t have come to rain on our dinner service.”
Rain on our dinner service? She was ridiculous. In a good way. “Have you heard from that guy today?”
She shook her head. “But I’ll probably see him when I go back for graduation. I finished my final paper late last night, so it’s official, I actually have to go.”
“You could skip it.”
She shook her head. “My dad would have an aneurysm. He’s been waiting for me to graduate from Harvard since the day he had to basically bribe them to take me.”
“I can’t imagine anyone needing a bribe to want you.” My face heated as I realized what I’d said, but it was worth it when I saw the small smile playing on her lips.
“Yeah, well, you only say that because I have a habit of randomly kissing you.”
So, we were talking about it now. I tried not to overthink it. “And you have a mighty big ego if you think your kiss is good enough for a bribe.”
Her eyes narrowed in challenge. “I could do it again if you need a reminder.”
We stared at each other for a moment before I coughed. “Uh, no. Not a good idea.”
She relaxed against the back of the booth. “Yeah, I have bigger things to worry about.”
“Listen.” I leaned forward. “If that guy ever gives you or your friend another ounce of trouble, come to me, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you, Jo.” Using her grandfather’s nickname suddenly felt too intimate, but I couldn’t take it back. We weren’t family, not friends exactly, but not only co-workers either.
She stared at me for a long moment. “Thank you, Hudson. I mean it.”
And she did. I could see it in her eyes.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded.
“That woman,” she said, “the one you were talking to at the end of the night. You knew her, didn’t you?”
I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about Jordan, about the colossal mistakes I’d made. Yet, I couldn’t lie to Jorgina. “She’s a restaurant financier in the city. We had an agreement for her to back me when I opened my own place.”
“And when you walked off your job, she pulled funding?”
“It’s more complicated than that. We …” I sighed. “I was seeing her.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned in her eyes, along with something else I couldn’t decipher. “Why was she here?”
Jorgina deserved to know the truth, and I’d tell her, but I wasn’t ready for that yet, not until I’d made my decision. “I don’t know.” That bit about not being able to lie to her? Yeah, that was a lie in itself.
25
JORGINA
