She barely had time to steady her breath before Nathaniel returned, his footsteps sharp against the floor. She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how tightly she was clutching her bag.
“Now, what can I do for you?” He settled behind his desk, his eyes fixed on her.
She pressed on. “I was hoping we’d be able to come to an agreement about the terms of the loan. Maybe an extension?”
Nathaniel leaned back, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. “The terms of the contract are very clear, I’m afraid.”
Her stomach dropped. “So there’s nothing I can do?”
The way his gaze slid over her made her skin crawl. She resisted the urge to squirm.
Nathaniel stood and moved around the desk and perched on the edge. “I’ve always thought it was a shame we didn’t get to know each other better growing up.”
She leaned back, trying to keep some distance. “Different social circles, I guess.”
“True,” he said slowly. “But maybe it’s time we changed that.” He leaned in, his cologne thick in the air. “How about we discuss the extension over dinner? Just you and me, away from all this business. I think we’d make an excellent team.”
She barely held back a gag. The idea of dinner with Nathaniel was about as appealing as day-old gas station sushi. Or Ebola.
She shot up from the chair so fast it wobbled. “Wow, look at the time! I suddenly remembered I have...a thing. A very important thing.”
As she stood, her eyes flicked to the takeout container of Bea’s pie. For a split second she imagined opening it and smashing the cherry filling all over his perfect white chair. The thought was almost too good to resist. But Bea’s pie deserved better than that.
Nathaniel’s smile stayed in place, but his eyes darkened. “Come now. It’s just dinner. Unless you’re not serious about saving the café?”
“Oh, I’m serious,” she said, backing toward the door, the stolen folder pressing against her side. “But I’m going to have to decline your offer.”
His smile vanished, replaced with cold calculation. “Very well. Your loss.”
Cora stormedout of Worthington Bank, her head spinning with frustration. Nathaniel Worthington—smug, slimy, and officially the most repulsive man alive—had made her feel powerless. Worse, a creeping sense of worry gnawed at her. His smirk, combined with the way he’d dangled The Spoon’s fate in front of her like a carrot, had thrown her completely off balance.
As she stomped down the steps, the file on Jack’s restaurant was sitting against her side, heavy and dangerous.Should she tell him? Would it help or just make everything worse? The idea of admitting she’d swiped something from Nathaniel’s desk made her stomach twist. But keeping it secret didn’t sit right either.
She needed to clear her head, but all she could see was Nathaniel’s infuriating grin.
Somehow, she found herself behind the wheel, driving toward Jack’s place. She didn’t have a plan, or even a reason to go, but it was the only place that made sense.
As she pulled up, the familiar sounds of waves lapping against the shore greeted her. Jack was down by the dock, standing at a weathered table, a thin knife in hand as he expertly filleted a fish. He moved with calm precision. The grill beside him sizzled, filling the air with the mouthwatering scent of whatever he was cooking, while a tray of vegetables waited their turn.
For a moment, she watched, letting the sight of him working with such ease settle the chaos inside her.
“Cooking all that just for yourself?” she finally called, her voice breaking the peaceful spell.
Jack looked up, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into a smile. “Not anymore.”
She walked down to the dock, the wood creaking beneath her feet. As she got closer, his smile faded, replaced by concern. He set the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel as his eyes searched her face.
“Cora,” he said, his voice low and steady, “what’s wrong?”
That simple question was all it took. The tension she’d been holding on to unraveled. “Nathaniel Worthington is a grade-A scumbag.” She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself as the weight of the encounter came crashing down. “I went to see him about the loan. He threatened to foreclose, then tried to bribe me with a dinner date.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. He picked up the knife, gripping it tightly. “He did what?”
“He said he might consider helping me if I agreed to have dinner with him.” Her voice shook with disbelief. “And I don’t think he was talking about food.”
The knife clattered onto the table as Jack straightened, his eyes blazing. “I can debone this trout in thirty seconds. I doubt Worthington would take more than a couple of minutes, tops.”
She grabbed his arm as he moved to step past her, her hand barely wrapping around the solid muscle. “Whoa, there. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, a murder charge isn’t going to help us save the café.”
