Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Dinner can’t take your mind off work? News flash, the meat’s tender and you didn’t ruin it.”
“I’m sorry, I—” Her eyebrows catch and she bites her lip, stricken.
“I’m joking, Sweet Stuff. I knew you’d go there again so I came ready. I said I’d give you some suggestions about where you can go with the store. Here.” I grab the pages I printed out for her earlier and spread them across the table.
“Wow. You really went all out.” She picks up a page with graphs and stares at it intently.
“You’ll be able to make more accurate projections than me, but this is what I estimate your approximate costs and revenue increases to be from each strategy.”
“You think I should move the store?” She frowns at the summary on the next page.
“A new location was one suggestion, although I will say it’s my least favorite, given the Sugar Bowl’s history in the same place. It would allow easier upgrades and expansions, though, and if you had a larger storefront with more seating, you could expand your menu, which always has the potential to ramp up sales.”
“Hmm.” She chews her lip. “But the old store has history. Ugh, I couldn’t leave…”
“I agree, which is why a refurbishment is still at the top of my list, but you knew that already.”
“Yeah.”
“You have a couple other options.” I find the relevant pages and slide them across to her. “You can open another store closer to the more affluent suburbs—or even one outside Kansas City, if you want. Alternatively, with improvements in shipping and online ordering, you could sell your products virtually anywhere.”
“What, like ship them out?”
“Orders come easy with digital stores these days. You give people in other cities, other states the chance to get their fix at the Sugar Bowl.”
“But what about logistics?”
“You’d use a local company to handle bulk shipping.” There are a few around, but I give the first one that comes to mind. “You could use PackRat Post. I’ve heard they’re reliable and ship—”
“No.” Her face instantly shutters.
“No to delivery or PackRat?”
She swallows and runs a fork through her potatoes that scratches the plate.
“It’s just the company, I mean. It’s silly, really, but…” Her sigh feels like it comes from her soul. “My ex’s family owns it. Actually, Liam’s basically in charge now, and it would just be awkward.”
I nod slowly, already hating this loser.
“Obviously, you can use any company you choose.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but the way she shrinks in her chair makes my heart drum.
What the fuck did Liam do to make her look like she wants to disappear through the floor?
“Did he hurt you, sweetheart? Did he fuck you over?”
Wincing, she waves a hand that shakes slightly.
“I mean, it was a long time ago. I guess he did, once, but I’m over him now.”
That doesn’t temper the anger shooting through my blood.
Clearly, whatever the fuck happened still weighs on her.
I take another sip of wine and make sure my voice is tame before asking, “What happened?”
“It’s a long story.” She picks at her plate again before she glances back up at me.
“Lucky you. We have all night.”
“And I feel kinda stupid,” she says, her voice burned. “I just believed in him a little too long and when it ended abruptly, I should have seen it coming.”
“When you love someone, you’re blind. The end can be like a shot to the face.”
“Oh, but I should have seen this coming.” She gives a small, sad smile. “He dragged his feet for a year, telling me I was the one. He had a ring. A whole year, Dexter. Nothing but false promises. And then he got distant. Cagey. I thought maybe he was cheating, but he was just getting cold feet. He decided he didn’t want a future with me…”
Cold feet?
Cold goddamned feet over the thought of marrying her?
“Was this man institutionalized?”
That earns me a bitter snort. “He wasn’t ready to ‘settle down’ with me. That’s what he told me. I wasn’t ambitious enough for him, apparently. I was pretty, but he needed more than that. He said he needed substance.”
Substance.
Right.
I could show him that by wrapping both hands around his scrawny neck and seeing how long his lungs still work.
My hands ball into fists.
“He told you that to your face?”
“Yeah. At least he had the courtesy to be honest, I guess.” She nods. “I should have seen it coming. His family owns PackRat Post.” Her eyes are bright and glassy as she takes another sip of wine and places her glass on the table. “They’re successful people. They’re doing well for themselves. They’re not struggling. So, yeah, why would he want to be tied down with someone like me?”
“Because that’s bullshit,” I throw back, waiting for her to look at me.
“…is it?” She links her fingers together. “He was nice enough and understanding when I first took over the Sugar Bowl. But he realized fast that I didn’t know what I was doing. I was always tight on cash and… and he’s older than me, Dex. He wanted someone at his level or maybe just a trophy wife—who knows—but it’s all the same. The point is, he didn’t want me.”