The way she says it, it’s a promise.
Maybe she’s trying to prove something to her boss, maybe just to herself. One thing is for damn sure, she’s passionate about this new job of hers.
Whatever her reason, I don’t want to see her fail.
Right here and now, I make the call. Heights Bites is going to make it.
I’m going to make sure of it.
I was already fired up to bring this place to life with a reimagined menu, whipping the back of house team into shape to be service-ready in a matter of weeks, and making sure Wilder Amante’s next stepping stone to Salt + Spice lives up to the standard I’m setting for myself.
But it’s more than that for her. I’m starting to see this place means something to her too. It’s not just a chip on her shoulder where I’m concerned, she cares about Heights Bites.
That stubborn side of her that’s determined to succeed here, I don’t want to see that light get crushed from her by the shitty side of this industry.
The things she doesn’t know she doesn’t know, I’ll be with her, making sure it all goes right and she doesn’t step into a bear trap along the way.
“We’ll do it together,” I tell her.
Like she can sense a shift in the air, like she’s got a sixth sense—the way I can tell when a steak is cooked to temp without having to touch it—she bites and it feels like the first step toward an alliance.
“Is your menu really that much better?”
My hands start telling the story as I go. “Well, take the burger. My meat is a chuck mix that I blend myself.”
“Sounds expensive.”
I smirk at how quick she is to shoot it down. Means I’m still under her skin. “I’ve sourced it out and we can do it at about the same price if we go with a farmer Charlie knows instead of through a distributor, but it’ll be so much more flavorful. The moistness is unparalleled.”
She scrunches her nose again, taking another sip of her Diet Coke. “Ew. If you’re going to keep talking to me, you can’t use words like ‘moist’.”
That gets a grin from me, and I let my eyes wander her thick frame for just a second, long enough for her to turn pink, before I keep going.
“We’ll use an earthier cheese with some punch, my first choice would be Gruyère, for that salt and fat. Top that with my fan favorite love sauce, made fresh with homegrown herbs, for some brightness and heat. Some sturdy greens for texture and balance. Fresh cut spuds on the side. You can’t tell me that won’t be heaven in your mouth.”
I take it as a good sign that she homes in on only one thing to argue with me about. The memories it dredges up, however, are less than pleasant. “Where are we even going to get ‘home-grown herbs’ from? You sound like a pot dealer. If you try topitch me on a grow light for the stockroom, I’m walking out of here.”
If it were any other joke, I’d be celebrating the progress. Her kidding around with me? Huge.
Instead, I flash her a grimace that I try to pass off as my normal smile. Like nothing in her words crystallized my blood, reminding me of the Wilder Amante I was before prison changed me.
I have to work to let the post-incarceration Wilder take the helm, the one who finds humor in everything and doesn’t get knocked off his feet, and answer her question. “Tarragon, thyme, basil, just a few plants. It’ll make all the difference.”
My eyes dart around the room, but no hidden greenhouse appears.
“This place got a roof? That’s what I did in New York.”
If Lexi notices anything odd in my behavior, she doesn’t show it.
“So what? We’re not even farm to table? We would be roof to table? Sounds real sophisticated. Got that sex appeal you were going for.”
The scowl on her face is sexier than it would be on someone else, and my blood pulses a little faster. Back to trying to knock my ideas down a peg, as usual. The game I’m used to between us. A genuine smile curls my lips at the back and forth that never stops with her.
A new voice chirps up, followed by the sound of footsteps up the stairs. “Uh oh,” sing songs the melodic voice. “Did I walk in on something a little sister should never have to see? Whose sex appeal?”
Lexi scoffs, immediately scooting back further away from me, even though an entire desk separates us, and she shoots a middle finger at the door for good measure as her sister’s form appears in it.
Filling the silence, I speak up. “I’m just trying to close my manager on letting me grow some herbs for the restaurant.”
