by Loren, Roni
Yours truly,
Mr. Wesley Garrett, chef and cheese aficionado
Rebecca had never resented her job. Work fueled her. She liked being busy, capable, and successful. She liked winning. But when she saw Wes’s email come through on Tuesday morning, she had a moment where she wished she could toss her jam-packed day planner in a bonfire.
She’d returned to the office on Monday feeling hungover after the weekend with Wes. Friday night, she’d surprised him with the bus, which had been even more exhilarating than she’d expected because, well, kissing…and now the food truck was partly her project, too. Then they’d spent Saturday afternoon together at a coffee shop, plotting and planning how the business could work and make money for the program. Then there’d been more kissing. Not too much since they’d been in public. But enough that the crackle of possibility had sparked between her and Wes at every moment.
That sense of not knowing what was going to happen next, of not knowing how far they were going to take it, of teasing and flirting and feeling each other out was like a jolt of electricity to her system. Even the discussions about the bus and how they should set up the business had gotten her jazzed, the excitement a palpable thing. It was like she’d adjusted the setting on her life and now everything was plugged in and in high-definition color.
But when she’d strolled back into work on Monday with a spring in her step, the grayness of the office—something she’d never really noticed before—had hit her in the face like a cinder-block wall. And not just gray in color but in mood. The same people. The same clicking keyboards. The same burnt coffee smell.
A new stack of cases on her desk about the same old marriage problems.
A list of things her father needed her to do for the campaign.
The whole thing had made her feel deeply tired and…out of place.
Which made no sense since she’d worked there all her adult life and her name was on the goddamned building. If ever there was a place just for her, this was it. But it’d been like pulling on a sweater she’d owned for years and suddenly discovering it was itchy and that the tag irritated her neck.
She’d wanted to call Wes and make lunch plans, anything to remind her that the weekend hadn’t been some weird dream, that there was another part of her life that wasn’t this. But when she’d taken a look at her schedule, her heart had sunk.
Booked solid. Not just through the week but all the way through Sunday. Cases on the weekdays and campaign events on Saturday and Sunday. There was going to be no room for free time. No Wes. No Bitching Brunch with her friends. And no visiting the school this week. No color at all.
She sighed, her eyes gliding over Wes’s words again. At least the bus wasn’t going to get to the school until next week. They had a bunch of paperwork and red tape to go through to make sure everything was done correctly, that safety standards were met, signatures obtained. She could block off time next week to spend on the project. She wouldn’t miss the reveal. She wouldn’t have to break her promise to Wes that she would help. That was something. But this week was a wash, and she hadn’t figured out how to tell Wes that yet.
Hell, she hadn’t even known if Wes wanted to get together this week, but the email alleviated that fear. She put her fingers to her keyboard.
To: ChefG
From: RLindt
Greetings, Mr. Garrett,
I deeply regret to inform you that many people have decided to dissolve their marriages this week, and for some reason, they expect me to assist them with that. I am holding them personally responsible for denying me an opportunity to eat pretentious cheese. I am also blaming them for breaking my favorite fancy ink pen when one spouse decided to use it as a projectile. I’m also sorry to report that this weekend, my father’s campaign has thwarted my attempts to actually have a day off. However, I will be available by phone late at night if you are so inclined as to speak with me at that time.
Warmest regards,
Lawyer Girl
The response came a few minutes later and put a smile on her face.
To: RLindt
From: ChefG
Dear Ms. Lindt,
Will you be wearing blue lacy panties during these phone calls? That may be a requirement for my participation.
Inappropriately,
Chef Dude
To: ChefG
From: RLindt
Dear Mr. Garrett,
Your request will be taken into consideration. Perhaps it is better to wonder what I’ll be wearing than to actually know. Perhaps it’s lace panties. Perhaps it’s footie pajamas and an ugly robe. Perhaps nothing at all.
I assume a man of your creative nature has an imagination.
Currently wearing a sensible pantsuit,
Lawyer Girl
To: RLindt
From: ChefG
Dear Ms. Lindt,
That is dangerous territory, but I am a man of great bravery and will take on that risk. Imagination engaged. I will call you tonight.
Currently wearing a smile,
Wes
The quick exchange was simple and silly, but it made Rebecca’s lips lift into a stupid grin and made the marathon day stretching out before her look a little more manageable.
She took a long sip of her coffee, stood, and headed out to the conference room to meet with the first client of the day.
When she got back to her office past lunchtime, there was a package on her desk. She leaned out of her doorway and got her assistant’s attention. “Hey, Marian, what’s with the package?”
Marian looked up from the pasta salad she was eating and turned Rebecca’s way. “Oh, I’m not sure. It just arrived a few minutes ago. The man said not to disturb you, but that it was perishable so it shouldn’t be stacked with the rest of your mail.”
“Perishable?”
Marian shrugged, and Rebecca stepped back into her office. She picked up the maroon-colored box and examined the logo of a local gourmet store. Probably a client thank-you. She grabbed her letter opener to free the tape and opened the box. Inside, there was a small jar of fig jam and a sleeve of fancy crackers, but it was what sat in the center of the display that made her grin. Tucked inside was perfectly packaged, super-pretentious…cheese.
She picked up the folded note inside and opened it, finding scrawly handwriting.
If anyone throws another pen today, just toss this bottle of jam at them. No one should be denied the opportunity to eat their pretentious cheese in peace. Talk to you tonight. —W
Rebecca held the note in her hands and sank into her chair, some weird combination of giddiness and fear going through her, like that feeling of plummeting down the tracks of a roller coaster.
“Everything okay?” Marian asked, poking her head inside Rebecca’s office.
Rebecca looked up and offered a small smile. “Yes, it’s just a gift.”
“From a client?”
Rebecca shook her head. “No, from a…friend.”
Marian’s eyebrows went up. “Well, if it’s the same friend who dropped it off, I know why you’re smiling.”
Rebecca laughed. “Marian.”
“What? I’m old and married, but I’m not dead.”
Marian left with a playful grin on her face, and Rebecca leaned back in her chair. A friend. She needed to remember that. This thing with Wes was a friendship with some added benefits. Just because the man had brought her a snack didn’t mean anything more than that he was a nice guy who wanted to sleep with her. A guy who wanted to sleep with a woman did nice things for her. She couldn’t let that hopeless romantic teen she used to be surface and pin meanings and feelings onto this thing with Wes that would only lead to her getting burned.
It was just a damn box of cheese.
chapter
FOURTEEN
Wes slipped on the generic black chef’s hat and adjusted it, the hat feeling foreign even though he’d had to wear one often enough in his early years of cooking. This one was mainly for show, though, at the Su
nday brunch event.
“Looking good, Garrett,” Suzie said, walking around one of the big prep areas in the event space’s kitchen and grinning his way.
“Even with my shirt on?” he teased.
She gave him an up-and-down look. “Well, we could scandalize all the nice ladies and gentlemen at the brunch if you want to flip omelets half-naked and piss off my boss. It would certainly liven things up.”
Wes buttoned up his black jacket and gave her a wry look. “My Shirtless Chefs stint is done. In fact, this will be my last fill-in of any kind for a while.”
“Oh yeah?” Suzie asked, perking up. “Did you hit the magic number you were saving for?”
He pinned a name tag to his jacket. “Not exactly. But now I’m not going to need it. I found…an investor. She bought the bus I was looking at as a charitable donation for the after-school program where I work.”
“What? When did this happen?”
“A little over a week ago, so the details are still coming together, but I’ll be in charge of it. We’re going to remodel it, and the kids are going to be a part of the whole thing.”
He still couldn’t believe the words, even as he said them. Nine days had passed since the night in the used car lot with Rebecca, and his head had been spinning ever since. Half the spinning had been panic. Agreeing to the project meant digging his roots deeper in his current job, something he hadn’t planned on doing. This wasn’t going to be his restaurant. Not in the financial ownership sense. And he knew by saying yes, he was committing to a longer stint as a teacher. That had freaked him out a little, but he’d calmed down by reminding himself that it wasn’t forever. He’d set the goal of getting the food truck remodeled, launched, and running smoothly before he left. Then he could walk away with a clear conscience because he would have left the program in better shape than when he’d joined it.
But putting long-term career goals aside, the other half of him was filled with genuine excitement. He was going to build a restaurant. He was going to cook again. Be in charge of something again. All because of Rebecca.
Rebecca, who he hadn’t seen since that night. He’d wanted to celebrate, to take her out again. But she’d been swamped at work and tied up with doing things for her father’s campaign, so their conversations had been limited to emails and late-night phone calls where they spent part of the time flirting and the other part planning world domination with the food truck.
The week had been great, though. He’d gotten to know her better, and they’d discovered new things about each other. The phone brought out things that wouldn’t have come out in person because late-night conversations tended to devolve into the random. Like how he read cookbooks like novels and how she had to watch Shark Tank before bed. Of course, then they’d had to debate which “shark” they’d want investing in the food truck.
The whole thing had been strangely easy, the rhythm of talking to her at night like they’d been doing it for years. The phone calls had given him something to look forward to after a long day of work, but they’d also made him realize how lonely his nights had become since getting sober. It’d hit him when she’d told him Friday night that she’d be out of pocket until Sunday night. Before, he wouldn’t have said he minded the solitude, but last night he’d felt the loss when he didn’t get to talk to her.
Suzie’s face brightened and she did a little clap, breaking him from his thoughts. “Yay! That’s fantastic news, Wes.” She stepped closer and threw her arms around him in a quick, enthusiastic hug before grinning up at him. “I’m so glad it’s all coming together for you. What happened to you…” She narrowed her eyes. “Well, let’s just say there’s a special place in hell for people who purposely try to kill someone’s spirit. Brittany’s spot has been reserved.”
He let out a breath. “I played my own part in that train wreck, but I’m glad that smoking pile of metal is getting smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror.”
“Well, I’ll be the first in line at your truck,” Suzie declared. “What are you thinking concept-wise? May I suggest no shirt?”
He chuckled. “Let it go, Suze. I’m going to make the kids a big part of every step, so it will need to be a consensus. We’ll brainstorm this week. I want them to visit the food-truck park, see if they can find a gap in the offerings, see what would make business sense but also be innovative, that kind of thing.”
She shoved him in the shoulder. “Well, look at you, all teacher-y and stuff.”
The comment rained a little on his happy mood, but he tried not to show it on his face. “Go ahead, make fun.”
“No,” she said, palms lifted. “I’m not teasing you. I know it wasn’t your plan, but it’s an oddly good look on you. You were always a good kitchen manager, and so much of that is mentoring and teaching. This isn’t that far of a leap. This is good news all around. Plus, the world needs your food. It’s cruel to deny them.”
“That’s very dramatic, but thank you. It feels good to be psyched about something again.”
Suzie put her hand to her hip and considered him. “We should go out sometime. Celebrate this return to the world of the living.”
He frowned. “You know I can’t do the bar scene anymore.”
He and Suzie had hung out a lot after hours in culinary school and when he was getting his restaurant ready to go. She was going to be the restaurant’s sous chef, so he’d worked with her closely. Brittany had accused Wes of having an affair with Suzie since they spent so much time together and often ended up drinking late into the evening, but he and Suzie had never crossed any line except staying out too late and drinking too much.
Suzie huffed, the air making her bright-pink bangs flutter. “I’m not saying let’s go get wasted, Wes. Believe it or not, I’ve dialed back a lot on that, too. I’m saying let’s, you know, go on a date with food and nonalcoholic beverages.”
He blinked. “A date?”
“Yes, you know those things that unmarried people do when they are interested in the other person.” She gave him a patient look. “I know you don’t do much of that since the divorce, but it wouldn’t have to be anything serious.”
The request caught him completely off guard. Suzie was fun, a talented chef, and attractive in that quirky, do-her-own-thing way. If he hadn’t been married back when they’d worked together, they probably would’ve already hooked up. Now they could. But the thought fell flat for him. “I’m sorry. I’m down for grabbing dinner one night or something, but just as friends. I’m seeing someone.”
The words tumbled out before he knew they were happening. He’d meant to give his standard answer. I don’t date. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Dating wasn’t exactly the right word. He and Rebecca had only agreed to be friends with potential benefits, with no exclusive label or commitment. He didn’t even know for sure if Rebecca would want to take it to the level of sleeping together. But this thing with her felt…precious for some reason, something singular that should be protected. He didn’t feel any desire to pursue anyone else right now.
Suzie stared at him, eyes wide. “You’re seeing someone?”
“I… It’s new but…yeah.”
“Oh my God,” she said, teeth flashing in a genuine smile. “That’s great, Wes. You really are charging forward finally. Do I know her?”
“Don’t think so. She’s a lawyer.”
She wrinkled her nose. “A lawyer? That’s…different.”
He laughed. “I’m aware. But she’s pretty great.”
Her lips kicked up in a lopsided grin. “That’s awesome. You deserve to have some fun.” She playfully poked him in the chest and gave him a mock stern look. “Just don’t let it get too serious, all right?”
“Too serious?”
“Yes, believe me. I’m speaking from a been-there, done-that place. I’m so experienced at the rebound relationship that if I fell over, I’d probably bounce.” She made a face. “This is your first dip back into the dating pool. The first ones always feel intense and r
eal and like whoever it may be is everything the last person wasn’t. The feelings can come fast, and then you’re in too deep by the time you realize you’re completely incompatible. That’s one reason why I asked you out. I would go in knowing that I’m just a passing phase. No hearts getting broken on either side.”
“Wow, that’s oh-so-very encouraging, Suze,” he said dryly.
She lifted her palms. “I’m just saying. I’m happy you’re finally moving forward, but a lawyer sounds very…not Brittany.”
His stomach muscles tightened, the words hitting closer than they should. “This isn’t about Brittany. And this isn’t serious.”
Suzie crossed her arms and cocked her head. “All right, I’m just trying to give you a heads-up. I don’t want to see you get in a bad situation again. Or worse, getting your heart broken.”
“No chance of that,” he said, gruffer than he intended.
She flashed him a quick smile. “Good. Now it’s time to get out there and wow these people with your French omelets. I’ll be in here running the kitchen if you need anything.”
Wes let out a breath and gave her a quick shoulder squeeze as he walked past her. “Thanks, Suze.”
He tried to shake off the irritation. Suzie was just trying to be a friend, not dump ice water on him. No need to get mad at good intentions. He didn’t take for granted that he had such caring friends who’d stuck by him when everything had gone to shit. Most of the people he’d known in his wild, partying days had bailed as soon as he’d ended up in rehab. He was no longer the buzz-worthy, up-and-coming chef who threw great parties.
He was just a divorced alcoholic who’d lost his restaurant. They had no use for him anymore.
But Suzie and Dev had been there the whole way through. They’d been the ones who’d tried to help when they could see him spiraling—not that Wes had let them help. They were the ones who’d visited him in rehab and brought him homemade food so he didn’t have to eat the facility’s crap menu. And they were the ones who believed he could have a restaurant again and not mess it up.
