“What about me?”
“What about you?” Donovan didn’t feel like having this conversation now. “You weren’t ready for that level of responsibility.”
“You’re wrong.”
Donovan glanced back at his computer screen. Although Owen might be inclined to have this little chat, Donovan didn’t have time. There was still work to be done. Lots of work. “Fine. I was wrong. Now that I’ve admitted it, can I get back to business?”
“That’s not why I’m here.” Owen didn’t raise his voice, didn’t get his back up. Just remained where he was, his gaze calm. “I came to find out how to fix it.”
The bleakness Donovan had been trying to fend off swelled through him again. “See, that’s the thing, Owen. I don’t know if we can.” God knew he’d racked his brain all night trying to think of a way. In between dialing Julia’s cell phone like a stalker. He hadn’t stopped calling even when all he got was the mechanized recording telling him her voice mail was full.
“Then we’ll have to think of something.”
“Like what?” Donovan looked at his brother and for the first time he wondered if maybe Owen did have some good ideas hidden in that head of his. But if Owen had been enlightened, he wasn’t sharing.
“I think that’s something you’ll need to figure out. I just wanted to come in and tell you not to give up on her. She’s special.”
“I know.” But he didn’t know how to tell her that when she wouldn’t answer her phone.
“She’s worth fighting for.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not taking over La Petite Bouchée.”
Donovan didn’t even blink, so inured to the bad news flying his way over the past twelve hours. “Okay.”
“Because I think we need Julia. Give her shares in the restaurant.”
“Owen, it’s not about that.”
“No, Donovan.” Owen stopped him. “It is about that. You just need to open your eyes and see it.”
Donovan thought about it. Really thought about it. Opening up the family company to someone else. Letting them in, allowing them a voice to shape and determine their future. It could work. There were plenty of companies that did just that. But they weren’t his family company. And he wasn’t ready to put all his hard work, all his father’s and Mal’s hard work, at risk.
He shook his head. “No.” The business had always been for family only. When Mal and Travis had wanted to open their own restaurant, it hadn’t been under the Ford Group umbrella. It had been separate. That hadn’t changed.
Owen didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head, too, and Donovan was almost certain there was disgust in the movement. Which only proved how little Owen understood the business. “I can see you’ve still got your head up your ass about this. When you’re ready to consider other options, I’m willing to help.” He stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m due at Elephants.”
And Donovan could only sit and watch while his brother headed off to take care of business while he sat in his chair and pondered exactly what he was doing with his life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THERE WERE NIGHTS Julia missed the Fords almost as much as she missed Donovan. Tonight was one of them. At least she still had Owen. Sweet and loyal Owen, who’d listened to her rant about his brother and agreed the man was an asshat and refused to leave the family business even though Donovan wasn’t giving him nearly enough responsibility.
They were sitting at Elephants, enjoying a quiet Tuesday night. Or not so quiet since the wine bar was, as usual, packed. Julia hadn’t much felt like going out the past few weeks and she’d tried to refuse when Owen invited her. It wasn’t until he assured her that Donovan was out of town and wouldn’t be there that she’d finally agreed. She’d pulled on one of her favorite outfits, fitted jeans with a loose white off-the-shoulders shirt and a breastplate-worth of necklaces, and wished she felt as bright and jingly as her jewelry. But it was better than sitting at home alone. Again.
She hated that every time the door opened, her eyes darted over and her heart thumped. Donovan wasn’t going to waltz through it.
“I thought you didn’t want to see him.”
It was as if the man was a mind reader. “I don’t.” But she scowled as she felt the telltale flush on her cheeks. Obvious if Owen looked closely. Fortunately, it was either too dim in the bar to see or he was too polite to mention it.
“Like I said, he’s out of town at a meeting.” Owen picked at the label on his bottle of water. He wasn’t working this evening, but he’d already handled three different staff and patron issues and that was just since she’d been here.
“Why aren’t you with him?”
“Because Donovan still doesn’t think I’m ready to run with the big dogs. Although I am allowed to work six nights a week at Elephants.” He put the bottle down and smiled, but it was forced. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t want the additional stress.”
Julia could tell that was a fib, one to fool her or himself. Maybe both. She gave his arm a reassuring pat. “You’re good at this, Owen. Really good. He’ll see that.”
“Yeah, maybe by the time I’m ready to retire.” Owen shook off his pinched expression as easily as a dog shaking off lake water. “Anyway, I think we should talk about you.”
“I’d rather not.” Julia didn’t feel like delving into her own emotional bruises. “Let’s chat about the weather.”
Owen wasn’t put off. “Let’s chat about you. How’s the new job?”
Julia picked up her still-full wineglass and swirled the contents without taking a sip. “It’s fine.” After quitting La Petite Bouchée, Julia had gotten hired at a little café in the West End near her apartment. The Sun Café was far below the types of places she usually worked. They served a workingman’s breakfast and closed at 2:00 p.m. The napkins were paper and the lighting was whatever had been supplied by the previous tenant. But the space was clean, the menu was straightforward and the second she walked out the door, she left work behind. It was nice not having to worry about profit margins and overheads, freeing her up to work on purchasing her own space.
She still felt a lingering sense of guilt, survivor’s guilt, that she’d left everyone else at La Petite Bouchée and moved on. But it had to be done. And in time, she knew the guilt would fade. But it had been only three weeks.
She was in touch with her investors on an almost daily basis. She felt confident that they’d find the right spot for their restaurant soon. But for now, she’d be at The Sun Café.
“You can’t be serious about staying there.” It wasn’t the first time Owen had made this pronouncement. In fact, he told her every morning when he came in for a vegetarian egg-white omelet. So he couldn’t think the place was that bad.
“I told you. It suits me for now.” She needed to heal, to grieve properly for her mother in a way she hadn’t had time to before. She felt she’d done a fair bit of that the past few weeks. And while it was hard and there were days she wondered if she’d ever stop missing her, most of the time her memories were now happy ones. The way her mother would have wanted to be remembered. Standing over a stove or bossing people around her kitchen with a smile.
“It’s a waste of your talent.”
“It’s temporary.” She wasn’t going to stay there forever, just until the time was right to make a move.
Owen sniffed. “Still. If my brother wasn’t such a stubborn asshat, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“True.” She smiled, appreciating the verbal support. “But then, I also wouldn’t know about your omelet obsession.”
“It’s not an obsession to pay attention to your health. I have a family history of heart disease, you know.” He lifted an affronted eyebrow at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry—was that not you I saw wolfing down two double cheeseburgers last weekend?”
“I was refueling after my run.”
Julia grinned. “How is your dad?” She h
adn’t seen Gus or Evelyn since the night of their spring party. She’d wanted to drop in for a visit or cook them a meal, but she hadn’t felt right. She didn’t blame them for what had happened—that was all on Donovan—but she didn’t feel ready to put it all behind her, either. If Donovan had just told her what was going on, maybe none of this would have happened. She liked to think she was reasonable, and once she’d gotten over the shock of learning that the restaurant was no longer for sale, she thought she would have at least been willing to listen.
“They’re fine.” Owen reached out to give her a brotherly punch on the shoulder. “They’d like to see you.”
He’d told her this before, too, and Julia responded the way she always did. “Not yet.”
And maybe not ever. Because every time she considered it, she remembered they weren’t her family, no matter how much they’d all come to care for each other. In the end, they were people she’d known for only weeks as opposed to years. And it was better to cut the ties quickly and firmly before she found herself entangled in a world of hurt, having to pretend she didn’t mind hearing about Donovan’s new girlfriend or wife or family. Because she would. She totally would.
“I’m thinking of taking a trip to Paris.” She wasn’t—she was trying to save money wherever and whenever she could—but it seemed a good way to change the subject.
“Are you asking me to join you?” Owen pretended to give the matter serious thought. “Because while I think it’s a little romantic for friends, it would piss off my brother to no end. So I’m in.”
That actually got a small smile from her. Julia didn’t like to think of herself as a petty person, but there were nights she dreamed up revenge fantasies that would leave Donovan as pained as her. Though she and Owen saw each other regularly, she never asked about Donovan. Afraid to hear that he was fine, their breakup a mere blip in his golden life.
Still, she didn’t want to encourage further discord between the brothers. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but this is a solo trip.”
“Sweet, nothing.” Owen took a swig of his water. “I’m serious, you know.”
Julia could tell from his expression that he was telling the truth. She shook her head. A return to Paris would be full of memories both bitter and sweet, and it was a pilgrimage she needed to make on her own. If she were actually planning to go...
“Enough about me,” she said. “How’s the dating life? I didn’t expect to hear from you on your night off.”
Owen shrugged. “You ever heard the term revirginized? Well, I left that station a while ago.”
She felt her eyebrows pop into the center of her forehead. “I think that term is only for women.”
“Are you questioning the legitimacy of my sex status?”
Julia snickered. “No, but I find it hard to believe that you can’t find a date.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t, just that I haven’t.” Owen shrugged again. “I’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours at the bar, so I haven’t had time.” He shook his head as though clearing it. “Wait. Did I just say that? I think I should be checked for sickness. Feel my forehead. Do I have a fever?”
Julia rolled her eyes but did as he asked, laying the back of her hand on his forehead. “No temperature. You’re perfectly normal.”
Owen caught her wrist. “Check again.”
She tilted her head to look at him. Owen was touchy-feely and quick to turn to human contact for comfort, but this was something else. “Owen?” But he was already moving her hand back to his face to cup his cheek instead. “That’s not going to tell me if you have a fever,” she pointed out.
“No.” He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes focused on something to her left. “But it’ll piss off my brother.”
Julia turned to look and found a very scowly Donovan staring at the pair of them. “I thought you said he was out of town.”
“He was. I guess he came back.”
He certainly had and he was bearing down on them like a man on a mission.
* * *
EXACTLY WHAT WAS his brother doing with Julia? Donovan narrowed his eyes though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t an apparition or a nightmare vision in front of him; it was truth. His brother sitting with Julia, Julia touching him. And he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised since both Mal and his mother had told him that Owen and Julia still saw each other.
But hearing about it and actually seeing it in living color were two different things. And though he knew there was nothing more between them than friendship, he couldn’t stop his hands from curling into fists or his adrenaline from spiking, preparing to attack and defend what he thought of as his.
He heard the thud of his feet over the music playing in the bar. Saw the flash of bodies as they instinctively shifted out of his way, giving him a direct line to Julia. Felt the squeeze of his lungs as he got closer. Close enough to reach out and touch her, to stroke that velvety-soft skin, smell the light lemon perfume that she always wore.
He didn’t. Instead, he glared at his brother, who was still holding Julia’s hand. Owen didn’t let go. In fact, Donovan watched as he wrapped his fingers more tightly around hers. “Donovan. How was your meeting?”
Donovan didn’t want to talk about his meeting and he doubted Owen did, either. Unless it was to whine about the fact that he hadn’t been included. His little brother was just trying to wind him up. It pissed him off that it was working.
“Mind if I join you?” He didn’t wait for a response but plunked himself down beside Julia. He was pleased when she tugged her hand free of Owen’s to smooth her dark hair.
Her scent rolled over him, reminding him of the many things he’d missed about her these past three weeks.
Her laugh, her kindness, her loyalty. The way she curled against him as if she belonged there. She wasn’t doing any of that now. Her eyes were trained on the full glass of wine in front of her.
“How have you been?” Donovan wanted to reach out and turn her face toward him so he could see those pretty brown eyes. He didn’t.
“Fine.” Her tone was terse and she made no eye contact.
Well, he hadn’t been fine. Even before his family could come down on him about his not telling her that they’d decided to keep La Petite Bouchée, he’d realized his error. But they’d come down on him anyway. And he’d let them. He deserved their censure. Nothing they said could compare to what he’d already said to himself.
And he’d come to realize that his insistence on keeping it all in the family was foolish. Julia wasn’t some random investor looking to make a quick buck at the expense of quality. She loved the place more than he did, probably more than the entire Ford clan combined. It shouldn’t have taken her quitting, leaving the restaurant and him behind, to make him realize it.
“Owen.” He didn’t look at his brother, keeping his focus on Julia, drinking her in. “Give us a minute.”
He saw the corners of her mouth tighten, but she didn’t say anything.
No, that cheerful refusal was all his brother’s. “I’m fine where I am.”
Donovan glanced over to see Owen stretching out as though planning to stay in the booth a good long while. His gaze, when he met Donovan’s, was challenging, daring him to object.
Had he forgotten that Donovan was perfectly capable of physically removing him if need be? Because Donovan hadn’t. “Owen.”
But his brother ignored the growl in his tone and proceeded to ask Julia if she thought he should consider going blond for the summer.
Donovan snorted. Loudly. Did Owen think he was fooling anyone? His moves were about as subtle as dying his hair blond would be.
“What?” Owen barely spared him a glance. “I’m looking to have some fun and you know what they say about blonds.”
Donovan snorted again.
“You got something caught in your throat?” Owen asked. “Maybe you should go home and take care of it.”
“I’m good.” Donovan turned the full impact of the firstbor
n stare on his brother. “But you should feel free to leave anytime. Now would be good.”
“Nope.”
“Owen.” Donovan heard the tightness in his voice, felt it in his throat and the way his fingers curled toward his palms.
“It’s okay, Owen.” Julia laid a hand on his forearm. It made Donovan a little jealous. “I can handle him.”
Him. As though he was a stranger or an acquaintance whose name she couldn’t be bothered to remember.
“You sure?” Owen hadn’t moved yet. “He might be older, but he’s not bigger than me anymore. And he’s sure as hell not wiser.”
Since that happened to be true in this particular instance, Donovan kept his mouth shut. But he shot his brother another sour look. Maybe if Owen stopped thinking about everything from his own biased perspective for one second, he’d see that Donovan was trying to fix things.
“I’m fine, Owen.” She patted his arm. “Really. Go.”
Owen waited another second, giving her the chance to change her mind, Donovan guessed, and then slipped out of the booth.
Donovan watched until he was out of earshot, then looked at Julia. She still wasn’t looking back. She looked good, so good. God, he’d missed her. “You never answered my calls.”
“I didn’t.” She didn’t look up, just stared at the wineglass in front of her.
He’d stopped calling after the first week, when Owen had informed him that she was going to report him for stalking if he didn’t back off. And yet, he couldn’t help feeling that was wrong. It was wrong to push her, but it was wrong to back off, too. He felt stuck in a no-man’s-land.
An awkward feeling crept up his neck. He rubbed it away, suddenly unsure how to start. He’d spent the past couple of weeks thinking about how to fix everything he’d broken. How he’d come to the realization that if she wanted the restaurant, he’d do his best to make that happen. The family had agreed immediately and without question, which had surprised him. Apparently, he was the only one who’d taken “family business” literally. But blurting all that out in a bar didn’t seem right. Yet here he was.
Tempting Donovan Ford Page 19
