“If you drop by Suds tonight, remind me to tell you about the trout I caught!”
Shaking my head, I turn and head to the New Heights office, taking in the model of downtown in the window. It’s crazy how close Main Street really looks to this scale she had built to illustrate her plan for the New Heights project about a year and a half ago. So much of downtown has already changed since then. We’re weeks away from the completion of phase one of her project.
I can’t imagine the sense of fulfillment she must feel at this point.
Can’t imagine it, because I’ve never had a professional accomplishment like that. Probably not a personal one either, if we’re hopping aboard the Depression Express, next stop Toaster Bath Station.
But Heights Bites is going to be that for me.
I don’t need to change the world.
I’m not trying to work on contracts for billion-dollar corporations, like Rory did when she lived in New York. Or take on a bank that ruined our small town, like she did once she came back to the Heights. Or bring a town back from near extinction, like she’s spent the last two years committed to doing.
Just living a life I enjoy, doing something I’m proud of, is enough for me. Add in some people I care about—and fuck it, while I’m asking, some great dick from time to time—and I’m set.
It’s not designer shoes and bags that make life worth living for me. I know Rory’s life is about more than just that, but I’m a simple woman. Good times are more important to me than nice things.
When I’m close enough for Rory to grab me, she does, gripping my arm in her talons—seriously, no woman in corporate America needs nails that long—and squeezing, pulling me to her desk like it’s not where I’m already headed.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hisses at me.
“Keeping our town free of pricks.”
Her eyes narrow at me.
“Well, your husband excluded.”
She clucks her tongue at me, doing an impression of her favorite pet. “Who do you think you are, Nate Bargatze? Enough with the jokes. You didn’t show up to the interview? I saw the email you sent him, who is the gardener and why are you being a bitch to him? He moved across the country for this job!”
“I was there!” I protest, not able to help that it comes out as a shout. “I was there early, getting some gardening done because you still haven’t approved more landscape budget.”
“You’re not getting more budget, we have half a rainforest along downtown.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” I tell her, nose held high, the way she does when she’s not loving what she’s hearing. “My point is, I was there, I was planting the flowers in the window boxes, and this giant jerk appeared and started making fun of downtown.”
Rory’s laminated brow raises, and I go on, sensing my chance. “He was laughing about all of the names of the businesses, he was making fun of our home, Rory.”
“Because he laughed at the names? They’re not exactly refined, Lex. Amusement isn’t a crime.”
There she goes again, thinking she’s too good for the simple life we have to offer in the Heights.
“Heights Bites is cute, and you can fuck right off if you’re gonna talk shit about it.”
Rory sighs, placing a hand on my arm. “Lex, it is a cute name, but just because he found humor in our naming convention—which I blame Duke and his father for starting by the way—doesn’t mean he wouldn’t make a good chef for the restaurant. You make fun of shit around here all the time.”
“It’s not just that.”
She stares, waiting for me to continue.
“Everything out of his mouth is a joke, and most of it sounds bizarrely sexual.”
Rory laughs, ass leaned on her desk as I stand in front of her, arms crossed. “He’s quite a funny guy, and maybe his humor isn’t for everyone—” she cups a hand to her mouth, whispering, “—we should probably keep Mrs. Dixon away from him, but beyond that, his food speaks for itself.”
“He’s over the top,” I insist, feeling my face flush at the implications he made, the way my body responded to them.
How I could picture his hand wrapped around the back of my head, guiding himself into my mouth and down my throat. I squirm where I’m standing, remembering the way I didn’t hate that visual nearly as much as I wanted to. Or the way his low voice slid over my body as he said it.
Thankful these overalls cover the budding of my nipples, I stand my ground, hands on my hips.
