There was always that combination of hard work, the right opportunity and just enough good luck that could launch a small business owner into happy success and autonomy. But at the same time, it wasn’t easily-earned success. Or easily kept. You would always have to work. There would never be a break. You could never just take it easy and breathe a little. Or have weekends and major holidays off. Or even sick days. And just as often as things could be great and busy, they could be slow and stretched.
Watching Vera and Killian open their own restaurant from the front row had been incredibly eye-opening. Owning their restaurant had added a heavy layer of stress. Even Vera felt it, and she had been the sole proprietor of Foodie the food truck. A restaurant was an entirely different beast. Especially when it was the caliber they were shooting for.
When I met Vann’s intense gaze, his eyebrows were raised expectantly. “Quite the place, Baptiste.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist protectively and shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that I’m an heiress?”
His mouth broke into a huge grin. “I picked the wrong first date.”
Nerves dropped in my stomach like a boulder off a mountain. I hated, loathed, detested when guys thought they had to prove themselves to me. It was the fastest way on the planet to turn me off.
I took a step back, feeling my skin turn white. “Oh?” I managed weakly.
“I should have made you take us to Cancun or something,” he said, laughing.
The tightly wound tension I’d managed to work up in thirty seconds disappeared just like that. He wasn’t going to try to compete with my accidental wealth. Whew.
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you? I only take the guys I really like to Cancun for our first date.”
He folded his arms, a challenge flickering over his face. “So, wearegoing.” I tilted my head in confusion and he added, “You said, you only take the guys you really like to Cancun. So… when does our plane leave exactly? I should probably pack a few things.”
I shook my head at him, but couldn’t help but walk toward him, pulled in by that invisible gravity that kept me trapped in his orbit. “You think I like you a lot?”
He nodded. “It’s obvious.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
His straight-face was in danger of becoming one of those huge grins I loved so much. “It’s okay though. I like you too, Dillon.”
My heart did a herkie in my chest, arms up in the air, cheerleader-style and everything. I practically tripped down the living room stair into his arms and straight into another kiss. How did he keep doing this? Every time I questioned what I was doing or when I would run or what if I didn’t run, he would do something like this that totally reinforced why I was willing to take this chance with him.
It was like he was showing all these layers that promised I could trust him, promised I could trust my heart with him… promised I could trust my bed with him. He laid layer after layer, careful to make each one perfectly reliable.
And now we were standing on this steadfast foundation that felt firm… strong… safe.
It was me that broke our kiss this time, afraid I’d start crying. “Should we go?”
“Are you ready for this?”
“I mean, no,” I told him honestly. “I don’t even own a helmet, let alone a bike. I’m the least ready person on the planet.”
His laugh rippled through me, pulling shivers with it. “I got you a bike. And a helmet.” He eyed the messy bun that had taken me the better part of the morning to construct. “Although, you might have to change up your hairstyle. Sorry if that’s a problem.”
I shook my head. “It’s no problem.” Apparently, I was willing to do anything for this guy.
How did one recognize true love? By the female’s willingness to redo her hair.
Just kidding. This wasn’t true love. It was way too early for that!
I ignored the protests from all the different emotions and organs inside me. This wasn’t love. Not that it wouldn’t be soon. But we weren’t there yet.
Ahem.
“I’ll be right back,” I told him.
“I packed a picnic too,” he said to my back. “I know this cool spot by a lake. I thought we could take a break for lunch there.”
His suggestion had me turning around again. “You cooked?”
