“Whether or not it does, I’m grateful for your help. Truly.”
She braked at a stoplight and glanced over at him. He was looking at her in a way that made something hard in her middle melt: gratitude and something else she couldn’t name. Didn’t want to name. Now was not the time to think about this. Now was the time to think about business. Game face on.
They reached Adrian’s Lower Downtown office building in record time, and Ana pulled into the parking structure beneath the offices. They climbed out, and Ana smoothed her suit, letting out a long, steadying breath. “Now or never.”
Bryan nudged her with his elbow. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”
Adrian’s firm, Compeer Capital, was located on the eighth floor of the building, a rigidly professional office with a large glass door and decor bordering on stuffy. All except the art, which Ana didn’t recognize except to know that it was original and expensive. There was no shortage of cash here for sure. Bryan gave their names to the perfectly coiffed receptionist at the front desk and then stepped back to admire the art.
“Marcus Lee,” he murmured.
She came up beside him. “How do you know?”
“My parents bought one of his paintings at a charity auction.” He cast her a quick look, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Personally, I think it’s one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.”
Ana studied the splash of oranges and yellows. “They’re power colors. Pretty sure they picked the painting solely for that reason.”
“Well, that’s telling, isn’t it?” He smiled down at her, and the nerves dissipated. They were in this together. And they were going to walk out of this building with the money he needed for his equipment.
“Bryan, Ana.” Adrian’s voice boomed out behind them and they turned. Adrian strode toward them, his hand outstretched, and they each shook it. He was dressed as formally as they were, in a navy-blue suit and power tie. Another man who wore it well, but this one clearly knew it.
“Thanks for seeing us,” Ana said.
“It’s my pleasure. Follow me. We’ve got the conference room.” He turned and led them behind the reception desk to a long hall with glassed-in offices, all filled by men—and precious few women—on their phones or glued to their computers. At the end, he made a sharp right and led them into a large conference room with an oval table and an expansive view of downtown Denver from the floor-to-ceiling windows. He took a seat on one side of the table with his back to the view and gestured for them to take chairs opposite.
“Are we waiting for your associates?” Ana said, slipping herself into the large leather seat.
Adrian unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back in the chair. “No, it’s just me. To be honest, your business is just too small for Compeer to be interested. It’s not investable.”
“Then why are we here?” Bryan asked, his tone neutral. “Other than Ana’s pool skills?”
A smile flitted across Adrian’s face. “Because I think you have an interesting idea. And because I’ve acted as an angel investor for more than one start-up, and this concept fits nicely into my portfolio.”
“I’d hoped you were going to say that,” Ana said. “Given your interest in Velocity, it seemed to be right in your wheelhouse.”
Adrian focused on Ana, his gaze barely flicking to Bryan. “So tell me, what do you have for me?”
Bryan pulled out his laptop and opened to his presentation. He’d planned on projecting it to the conference room screen, but since it was just the three of them, he swiveled it around so Adrian could view his pitch deck. He started with the cover slide that had a stock coffee photo and the preliminary tagline Ana had come up with, then flicked over to the photo of Flor de Oro’s previous owners that he’d taken before he left, their wrinkled faces creased into smiles.
“This is Edgar and Maria Hernández, the third generation of Hernándezes to live and work on the Flor de Oro farm near Manizales, Colombia.” Bryan went into the story he’d told Ana and the supper club, about how they had been forced to switch from their family’s traditional coffee crops to growing coca in order to keep their farm solvent. Through the whole story, Adrian’s expression remained unreadable, even when Bryan detailed how their son had been killed because of his involvement with the cartels.
“Café Libertad helped them make the transition back to coffee. However, they’re getting to where they can no longer manage the farm themselves, which is where I came in. I’m currently the sole owner and a farmer-member of the Café Libertad co-op, which has more than twenty-five farms in that region alone. The advantage to owning the farm from which we’re sourcing our beans is that it gives us control over the quality of our supply as well as significantly decreasing the variable costs.”
Bryan clicked through his deck as he outlined the numbers, from expected overhead costs to revenue projections. Adrian threw back his own set of questions, which Bryan answered smoothly and confidently. Then Adrian glanced at Ana. “And what’s your role in this venture?”
“I’m an advisor. My job is to work with distribution channels for the finished product along with coordinating our marketing and messaging. As you probably already know, I’m currently a publicist for Massey-Coleman. I hold a degree in communication and media studies from USC as well as an MBA from Berkeley.”
“That’s very impressive,” Adrian murmured, his eyes staying on Ana for just a touch too long. Then he looked back to Bryan. “I’m going to go out on a limb for you. Assuming everything is in line, I’d be willing to invest fifty thousand dollars for equipment and packaging, but I want a 50 percent stake in the company.”
“No,” Bryan said flatly.
Ana glanced at him. “You’re putting the valuation at a hundred thousand dollars. That’s a bit shortsighted.”
“That’s generous,” Adrian said. “As you well know, the coffee business is extremely competitive. Your entire concept is based on the social-responsibility angle, but your supply is small. If you don’t have beans from former coca plantations, you don’t have a business. And agriculture in general is risky.”
Ana chose her words carefully. “Given Bryan has already made a significant investment, I don’t think that’s something we’re willing to do.”
Adrian shrugged. “That’s my offer.”
Bryan’s gaze never left Adrian’s face. “I’m asking fifty thousand for 15 percent.”
Adrian smiled. “This isn’t Shark Tank, Bryan. We’re not negotiating here. I’m largely doing this as a favor, and given our history, I think that’s more than generous.”
“You’re doing this because you like the story behind the company, and you like what it says about you if you invest in it.” Bryan cocked his head. “If I’m not mistaken, your family is from Venezuela; isn’t that right?”
Adrian looked taken aback.
“Last time I checked, Venezuela was the main route for trafficking cocaine from Colombia to the rest of the world, particularly Europe. In fact, the American crackdown on the Colombian cartels and the Venezuelan government’s lack of interest in the antidrug campaign—and corruption, of course—has resulted in a large number of traffickers moving into the region. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t fully understand the political situation in Venezuela, but I have to imagine that the massive amount of money being fed in by Colombian cartels has to be contributing to the human rights situation in your country. Or rather, your parents’ country, since you were born here.”
A smile returned to Adrian’s face. “You did your homework.”
“Of course I did.” Bryan held his gaze. “So this may be business, but I also know it’s personal.”
Adrian’s attention flicked to Ana. “And here I thought you were the one to watch out for.”
She just lifted a shoulder in response.
Adrian considered for a long moment, then licked his lips. “Thirty percent. I’ve got no guarantee that I’ll ever see a return on this business, and sentimentality only goes so far when it�
�s my own money on the line.”
Bryan glanced at Ana, and she gave him her imperceptible nod of agreement. It wasn’t the deal that she’d hoped to get, but for a small operation like theirs, it was reasonable. And regardless of what happened with the roasting business, it was still Bryan’s farm.
“You have a deal,” Bryan said.
The three of them rose, and Adrian shook their hands. “Send over your due diligence package and I’ll get started on it right away. If everything checks out, you should have your money in a few weeks.”
They moved into the hallway, but when Bryan started toward the reception area, Adrian held Ana back. “If you’ll give us just a moment, Bryan, I’d like to have a word with Ana.”
Ana gave a nod of assent, and Bryan paused at the end of the hallway out of earshot. He didn’t look particularly pleased. Ana turned to Adrian expectantly.
“Now that we’ve gotten the business out of the way, what are you doing for dinner on Friday?”
Ana blinked at him. “Why?”
He smiled. “Because I’m busy tomorrow and Thursday, and Saturday is too far away.”
Despite herself, Ana felt a smile come to her lips. “I mean, why are you being so persistent?”
Adrian shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I like you. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you play a mean game of pool.”
Ana worried her lip with her teeth and unconsciously glanced down the hallway at Bryan, who was staring at them with a slight frown on his face.
“Ah, I see. I’m sorry, I thought you said you two were just friends.” Adrian held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to step on any toes here, especially when we may be in business together.”
She snapped her attention back to Adrian. “No, it’s not that. We really are just friends. It’s just that . . .” She took a breath and realized she really didn’t have any reason to say no. He might have come off as arrogant at the club the other night, but she was beginning to think he really wasn’t a bad guy. It also occurred to her that he might be doing this to get back at Bryan, but that was silly considering Bryan had no interest in her besides her help in his business.
“Okay,” she said finally. “You have my number.”
He smiled, and Ana had to admit it was a nice smile. “I’ll call you later this week then.”
“Okay,” she said again. “We can let ourselves out. No need to walk us.”
She turned on her heel and walked toward Bryan, who was now looking at her expectantly. “What was that all about?”
Ana took a deep breath. “He asked me out.”
“Now? What did you say?”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I said yes.”
“He didn’t imply that if you didn’t—”
“No, not at all.” Ana hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. “Can we just go now?”
Bryan nodded, but there was a tightness in his jaw that implied he didn’t quite believe her. He should know her better than that. She might work situations to her advantage, but there was no way she was going to date someone just to make sure a deal went through. In fact, that whole idea was insulting.
But when they climbed into her SUV and Bryan still remained silent, something else occurred to her. Maybe he didn’t disapprove because he thought it was related to their deal; maybe he disapproved because it wasn’t.
Chapter Fourteen
“WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM TODAY?” Alex glanced at Bryan in the gym’s weight room mirror as he slid weights onto the end of a barbell.
Bryan settled on the edge of a weight bench with a dumbbell and positioned himself for his next set of bicep curls. “I don’t have a problem. Everything’s great. Why do you ask?”
Alex shrugged. “No reason. You’re just attacking the weights like you have something to prove.”
“I’m not climbing, so I need to amp up my routine.” Bryan gritted his teeth and adjusted his grip on the dumbbell as he curled it toward his face. It was heavier than he usually worked with—quite a bit heavier. Most climbers stuck with light weights and lots of fast reps, if they lifted at all, building strength without adding more mass they’d have to carry up a pitch. But since he didn’t plan on putting himself a hundred feet up the side of a mountain anymore, it was fine if he bulked up a little. Preferable even. There was a reason guys like Adrian spent half their free time at the gym.
Alex decided to let the question be, starting his own set of dead lifts and leaving Bryan’s mind to wander when he should be focusing on his form. No matter what he might say to Alex, he was in a bad mood. And he had no reason to be in a bad mood. They’d sent over the paperwork to Adrian, and in a show of faith that the deal would go through, he’d begun looking online for used versions of the drum roaster he wanted to use in his facility. He’d found one that was less than a year old in Missouri, and the guy was willing to ship. There was just the question of whether or not he trusted the description, or if it was worth it to fly to St. Louis and drive it back himself. He was leaning toward the latter.
The sample roaster was both easier and less satisfying; he couldn’t find any sign of the one he wanted used, so he was going to have to buy new. Four thousand dollars gone with a click of the mouse. It was necessary, though; each batch of new beans had to be sampled and evaluated before it could be roasted and sold to consumers.
Assuming he could actually do what he said he could do. It wasn’t as if he had a lifetime of roasting experience. Those two months had been intense, but it still left room for a lot of trial and error on his end.
“Bryan?”
He looked up and realized that he had stopped and was staring blindly into the mirror. “Yeah. I think I’m done today. Too much on my mind.”
“Business or personal?”
Bryan stood and returned his weights to the rack. “You can put away your shrink hat today. I’m not in the mood.”
“Personal then.” Alex grinned. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Ana is going out with that venture capital guy tonight, does it?”
“Why should I care?” Bryan growled.
“I didn’t say you did. It was just a question.” But Alex’s repressed smile said he knew exactly where his friend’s foul mood was coming from and was amused by it.
It was irritating when he was right.
Worse yet that Bryan couldn’t do anything about it. He and Ana were friends. Only friends. It didn’t matter that there was a spark of interest or chemistry or whatever you wanted to call it any time they were in the same room. Now that they were working together, their flirtation had turned to solid camaraderie. Which meant that he had absolutely no way of knowing what she was thinking because all their interactions had to be completely professional.
Bryan snatched up his towel as he stood and wiped down the bench. “I’m going to hit the showers. I’ll give you a call later.”
Alex nodded and gave a salute of goodbye, then moved on to his next set of dead lifts. Bryan exited the weight room and paused outside in the cavernous climbing arena. There were indoor walls of varying difficulty, littered with climbers of all ability levels. He watched for a moment, then shook his head and brushed by down the hallway to the locker rooms. Maybe he should have found another gym, one that didn’t cater to Denver’s climbers and extreme athletes, but he’d been coming here for years. Besides, he was paid up through the end of the year, and now especially he couldn’t afford to waste money, not if he ever wanted to get out of his parents’ house. It wasn’t like he was tempted by the walls. They were just an unwelcome reminder of a part of his life that was over.
He found his locker inside the bare-bones locker room and spun the dial before entering his combination. He’d moved on. Just like Vivian had moved on. He’d expected a pang of resentment or even envy at what she and Luke had, but instead he felt regret. Regret that he’d made bad decisions. Regret that he’d held on to her memory for so long and caused both himself and a string of women even more remorse
. Regret that he hadn’t been more insistent about safety on Vivian’s climb; even if it was her mistake, he was her teacher.
What he didn’t feel now was desire for her. She’d broken his heart twice, broken his life along with it the second time around. All he felt was relief that she was gone for good.
* * *
“Which do you think? This one or this one?” Ana held up two different outfits, one after another, in front of her and waited for Rachel and Melody’s reaction.
“Neither of them.” Melody uncrossed her legs where she was sitting at the foot of Ana’s bed and hopped off onto the thick rug. It was a rare night that her friends actually came to her rather than the other way around, but she was feeling unexpectedly ambivalent about this date with Adrian. She needed her girls for support.
Melody pushed past her into the closet and came out with a flirty black slip dress. “This one.”
“No, not that one. It’s way too sexy for a first date.”
“Since when is that an issue?” Melody countered.
“I agree with Ana,” Rachel said. She’d largely stayed silent through this whole process, taking as little interest in fashion as Ana normally did in cooking, but now Ana was grateful for the backup. “She hasn’t decided if she even likes this guy, so she’s not going to wear something sexy.”
Melody sighed and put the dress back. “Fine. But you’re not wearing that potato sack.”
“It’s Chanel!” Ana exclaimed, looking at the sheath dress.
“You’re not going for shock and awe here, Ana. You’re going for approachable.”
Rachel grinned. “She kicked his butt at pool and hustled a meeting out of him. The approachable ship has sailed.”
“You two are impossible.” Melody sighed and went back to the closet. “Okay, how about this?” She came out with a pair of artistically ripped jeans and a cross-front sweater. It was one of Ana’s favorite tops, actually; loose-fitting and just low-cut enough to give a glimpse of cleavage without being indecent. “Throw on a pair of ivory heels and you’re done.”
The Solid Grounds Coffee Company Page 16
