Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I could have added horny and that I’d taken care of that by giving his husband’s friend a hand job and jerking off later at home, but…TMI? Perhaps a little.
No, I wasn’t ashamed of what had happened between Riley and me, and it would have been nice to talk about it with someone I trusted and who knew me well. However, I couldn’t say a word without outing Riley, and I would never do that. My feelings about the matter were best kept to myself. That hand job might have been a step on his road to sexual discovery or a “one time only, never to be repeated” fluke.
All I could offer was tuna and a friendly ear if Riley needed it. My hand was also available, because you know…horny.
“Oh, no. Did you get caught in the rain?” he asked.
“Something like that. Now, I have a menu to organize, so how can I help you?”
Nolan narrowed his eyes and tilted his head the way he did whenever he sensed a bigger story. It was very hard to hide anything from Nolan Moore. He was the most intuitive person I’d ever met, and though he might not press me for details now, he’d store the information in a secret compartment in his head and refer to it as evidence later. Just wait.
“Well…” He perched on a wooden stool in front of the butcher block island, shooting one last curious glance before continuing. “I just got off the phone with a woman from Pinecrest who wants to host her parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary here the second weekend in December. One hundred guests. It’s two months from now so we’d have plenty of time to plan, but the holidays were good to us last year and I’d hate to disappoint anyone who was thinking of doing a smaller party on that date. We’re only taking reservations one month out now, and it feels wrong to eliminate a popular day without giving notice, but…what do you think?”
Now this was one of the many reasons I’d fallen for Nolan. Okay, yes, he was boyishly handsome with dark hair, pretty eyes, and a sexy body. But he was also kind and thoughtful, and he was always looking out for the people he cared about. To him, this was a serious debate between one family’s happiness versus the many who’d potentially be disappointed if the date they’d hoped to host a holiday party was hijacked early.
I, on the other hand, was not sentimental. To me, it came down to math.
“Which makes more money?”
Nolan sighed. “The party, but—”
“We do the party.” I smiled at Nolan as I tucked my cell into my pocket and resumed reading my prep notes.
“It’s not that simple, JC. This is the sort of thing that pisses folks off enough that they start going elsewhere for breakfast or drive into Fallbrook for dinner or—”
“Nolan. There’re no good restaurants in Fallbrook. Don’t worry.”
He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “What if we hosted the party inside and opened the outdoor patio to the public? We could get one of those all-weather tents with heating lamps.”
“That might work, but if it was stormy like last night, the tents wouldn’t be an option. We could do a waiting list for regular reservations or block the date until a week ahead of time. Even then, you never know with Mother Nature.”
“True.”
I listened with half an ear to his what-if scenarios. I appreciated that he sought my advice regarding the diner, but it frustrated me too. I hadn’t brought up the subject of ownership in a year. That last discussion had been brief, and while not entirely negative, it hadn’t gone my way. I wanted to become part owner of the diner. Period, end of sentence.
The problem was that Elmwood Diner had been in the Moore family for over a century. Nolan held an eighty percent share, and his mother had twenty percent. I understood that it was a legacy property, but I was partially responsible for its newfound success and I wanted in. I didn’t have any immediate plans to leave. I liked Elmwood. I liked the life I’d built here and the friends I’d met. This was home now.
However, I had to think of my career. I’d apprenticed in Michelin-starred kitchens in Quebec City and worked in the finest restaurants in Montreal. It was a feather in my cap to bring haute cuisine diner-style to a small US town, but…now what? I couldn’t stay here forever as a glorified fancy fry cook. The logical next step was to open my own bistro.
Maybe Nolan would be interested in going in on a new venture, but I doubted Elmwood could support another upscale eatery, so we’d have to go elsewhere. Or…I’d have to go elsewhere. Pinecrest, Wood Hollow, Fallbrook…or perhaps it was time to think about moving back to a big city.