The worst thing I can do now is draw attention to my random attraction to James, which will more than likely be gone as quickly as it appeared. Besides, it’s probably only a by-product of my pent-up lustiness from not having had sex in so long.
James suddenly gets up from the table.
“Where are you going?” Tommy asks.
“To get a knife,” James responds with a stone-cold expression.
Tommy is horrified. “A knife?!”
“I have to slit my palm open so Madison will feel comfortable working with me.”
Tommy looks at me. “What kind of shit are they teaching you guys in culinary school?”
“No. James!” I grab his hand to stop him and immediately wish I hadn’t. His gaze drops to where our hands meet, and I quickly pull away.
“Sit back down. I’m fine. I’m just . . . a little hungover from last night and jittery about the opening, I guess. Let’s keep going.”
After a hesitant pause, James retakes his seat. I plaster my eyes on the table, where I plan to keep them for the entire meeting. And when we’re done, I’ll go settle my mind and get rid of this inconvenient sexual tension.
I just need more sleep. And a vibrator.Problem solved.
Tommy hands me a mock-up menu with the restaurant title GRAINSacross the top in bold blocky letters.
“Not to brag, but I snagged us the best designers in the business to work on this at a hugely discounted rate. They’ve given you five samples to choose from, but this is my personal favorite. It’s trendy. It’s modern. It’ll add a nice contrast to the rustic greenhouse atmosphere.”
I couldn’t agreeless.I hate it. I think it will absolutely contrastwith the greenhouse, but not in a good way. More in a “Hey, look at me, I’m trying to be L.A. in Kentucky” sort of way. But . . . what do I know? Tommy has done this countless times, and it always works out.
So I hold the menu and say, “It looks great!”
An hour later (and countless lies told on my part), Tommy is wrapping everything up to leave and I’m working double time to not let my discouragement show. I hate the direction we’re going in with the restaurant. Although I didn’t have any concrete ideas for it yet, what I saw today definitely didn’t feel right. I can’t tell Tommy, though. If my instincts are so far off base, he’ll see how unfit I really am to be taking this job. If he says it’s good it must be, so I’ll spend the next few months aligning my vision with his.
After shoving his iPad into his leather Louis Vuitton carry-on bag, he tells me he’ll be sending time-sensitive documents to me via email and will need my response ASAP. James, I notice, doesn’t thank his brother for any of this and instead looks more than ready for him to hit the road.
I don’t like the thought of anyone’s work going underappreciated, though. “Hey, it’s fun to see you in professional mode. You’re really good at your job, Tommy. Thank you for all of this.”
From the corner of my eye, I see James’s jaw flex.
Tommy, on the other hand, is immediately a peacock. “It’s true. I am, and thank you for noticing,” he says before turning a smolder on me. “Is it making you reconsider going out with me?”
“Nope.” I give a toothy smile. “I told you I won’t date a co-worker, and I meant it.”
“I’ve been thinking about that—and I realized you’re in luck! We’re not co-workers. I am in no way attached to the longevity of this restaurant. In fact, once we hammer out all of the details and get this bish launched, I’m done with it. So dinner, Friday? Wait. I’m leaving town for a while.” He mulls this over and then points atme. “When I get back, I’ll take you out! Somewhere fancy. We’ll have to drive to Sommerset, but—”
“Tommy . . .” I sit forward, ready to feed him through my favorite new automatic weeding system. “Believe me, you don’t actually want to take me out.”
“Are you kidding? You have no idea how much I want to go out with you.” He makes a grand show out of coming over and getting down on one earnest knee beside me. “From the second you stepped out of the airport and I saw you in those cutoffs, I think I’ve been in love with you, Madison.”
“Dear god,” James grumbles beside me, tone threatening murder.
Tommy is undeterred. “Madison Daniella Walker”—that’s not my middle name—“you are so beautiful I feel like I could die when I look at you. I will quit my job right now and miss my flight if you’ll agree to let me take you out.”
Charming, lying asshole.
“Oh, Tommy,” I say, playing into his theatrics by placing my hand on the side of his smooth jaw. “The truth is, I’m practicing celibacy.”
It’s comical how quickly Tommy’s playboy smile falls away. “How long do you have to practice for?”
“For however long I want.” I shrug, amusement holding strong. “I don’t owe you or anyone else a time frame.”
