by Robyn Neeley
Atta girl. Wow, had he just given this woman a mental cheer? Last week, he would have encouraged his employees to give her the stare-down if it intimidated her enough to give up her shares, but he was beginning to feel differently. What that feeling was he wasn’t quite sure, but he wanted to explore it.
“There must be a story there,” he said, taking his tray.
“Yeah, there is,” was all she said before heading for the salad buffet while he decided to grab his favorite BLT sandwich. It took all his willpower not to say hello to the friendly server, Lee, who’d been making his lunch for the past ten years.
Taking his plate, he spotted Becca at an empty two-top near the window. He couldn’t help but grin. He’d often sit there if he wanted to quietly read the Wall Street Journal while eating. How ironic she’d picked his normal spot.
He joined her at the table and set his plate down. Her phone buzzed, and she apologized for having to send a quick text. While she did that, he dug in to his sandwich and took a bite, savoring the taste of the crispy bacon.
“Sorry about that.” She put her phone away and picked up her fork, freezing in midair. “What are you doing?”
“What?” He took another enormous bite.
She pointed at his BLT with her fork. “I’m pretty sure the strip inside that sandwich you just ate came from a pig.”
Oh crap. He’d blown his lie. “My vegetarianism comes and goes. Mainly it’s about eating healthy.”
“Because I’m sure that sandwich loaded with bacon and mayo is good for you,” she scoffed.
“Hey, it’s also got lettuce and tomato, and bread isn’t all that bad.”
She smiled wryly and went to work on her own nutritious salad.
“So, why don’t factory employees come here?” he asked, more than a little curious.
“You have to ask?” She glanced around. “It’s not like the people in this room would be purposely rude or mean, but my group is different. I mean, look at us in our casual work clothes and rubber shoes. We don’t exactly fit in with their fancy suits and designer shoes.”
“But wouldn’t your workers like to spread out and have a meal they didn’t have to prepare? I mean, the break room works, I guess, but it seems a little cramped, and I’d hardly call that small prep area a kitchen.”
She shrugged her shoulder. “We’re used to it. Although …”
“What?”
“We came over here once as a group. It was a total disaster.”
What disaster? That was news to him. “Why was it so bad?”
“Well, two years ago, we all got a flyer in our mailboxes that Guac Olé was having a holiday lunch on December twenty-third. Families were invited to attend, and they’d hired a Santa for the kids to meet.”
“Cool.” He did remember that event. He’d popped down for a few minutes while his dad said a few words. The cafeteria had been packed with staff and all of their families, kids running around everywhere.
“We thought it would be fun, and so many of my gang brought their children. This place was a full house.”
“Sounds like a success.”
“For those who could stay, I’m sure it was. We were told to come back in two hours after the corporate employees and their families ate.” She shook her head. “It was so humiliating for us to have to leave.” She sighed. “Franco had even brought his five grandchildren. By the time we could eat, the Santa they’d hired had left because he had another party to get to.” She frowned. “The kids were so disappointed.”
Grayson’s throat tightened, and he took a sip of his soda. His dad would have hated to know that had happened. Franco, Becca … none of the plant employees deserved to be treated like second-class citizens. “That’s why no one eats here.”
She nodded. “One of the reasons. Now do you understand?”
More than she knew.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. The one who should be sorry is your roommate. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was the one who’d ordered us out.”
He turned his head, staring out the window at Becca’s beat-up trunk in the parking lot. She was wrong. This was the first he’d heard about it. Maybe that was the problem. In his years of breezing in and out of employee events and not spending time in the plant, he’d picked up plenty of corporate-speak and not enough real conversation.
It was probably the reason they’d all given him the cold shoulder last year when he came in to wish everyone a merry Christmas. Man, had he earned the nicknames they’d given him. He was a dipshit.
He pushed his plate off to the side, his appetite gone. “So, you’re not a big fan of Grayson?”
“He’s all right.”
He would have believed her if she hadn’t stabbed her tomato while saying it.
“I mean. I don’t really know him, but we’ve been forced into each other’s worlds as of late.”
“Are you working on something together?”
“God, no.” She sighed. “I’m sure Grayson will fill you in when he gets back. The short story is that his dad left me fifty-percent controlling shares in the company, beginning in September.”
“You’re kidding.”
She laughed bitterly. “Sometimes I wish I was, or that I’ll wake up any minute and realize it was all a dream.” She pulled her arm up and pinched it. “Not sleeping.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “It’s why we got the stare-down earlier. Everyone knows.”
“Do you want the shares?”
She took her time answering that question. “You know, I care about this company. I really do. I’m trying to go into all of this with an open mind, but your former—and now current—roommate hasn’t made it easy.”
Guilt crept up the back of his neck, and he gave it a good scratch, but it didn’t go away. “I know,” he said quietly.
“You do?”
“I mean, I know how Grayson can be,” he corrected himself. “So, can I ask, why did his old man give you the shares?”
She folded her napkin and set it on her tray. “That is the question I’ve asked myself every day since I received the news.”
“Did you interact with him?”
“Not really. I spoke to him a few times over the years when he dropped by the plant, but I didn’t think I left much of an impression.”
“Apparently you did,” Grayson said flatly but changed his tone. “I mean, of course you did. From what I hear from Franco, you’re a terrific boss.”
“I don’t know about that. Now, Jack Cooper, he was a great leader. Before his health took an unexpected turn, he’d pop in to the factory from time to time to taste the guacamole or give a motivational pep talk to all of us, followed by an impromptu pizza party or ice cream social, because that was just the friendly kind of guy he was.”
“And you don’t think Grayson’s that type of leader?”
That question got nothing but a sarcastic laugh before she continued eating her salad in silence.
She could have at least answered his question. Did she really think he was incompetent? “Okay, so I’m sensing you’re not a fan of Grayson.”
“You know … It’s just his leadership style is different from his father’s. Jack cared about what the people who made and shipped his product actually thought.” She set her fork down and took a drink of water. “Once he asked me what I truthfully thought of the guacamole.”
Grayson leaned forward in his chair. Keep talking. “You told him you liked it.”
“Of course, but I also told him that I thought it would be interesting if we branched out one day. Maybe offer something a little more”—she aimed her fork to what was left of his sandwich—“healthy. Avocados are so good for us, why not provide a dip loaded with fruit and less sour cream?”
A healthier dip. Was that why she’d been experimenting with her own recipe? On memory alone, he could almost conjure up the taste of the delectable mixture. “Well, I haven’t been around long enough, but I think that’s a grea
t idea.” He paused. He couldn’t blow this next question. This was his one chance to get an honest answer. “What was Mr. Cooper’s reaction?”
“I couldn’t really tell. He said it was a good idea and patted me on the back. That was the last interaction I had with him before his health turned.”
Grayson grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands. Stopping into the factory was one of his dad’s favorite things to do. He was starting to understand why. Not only did they have hardworking employees, but they had people like Becca, who had taken the time to consider ways to expand their product. Did his dad want him to hear her ideas?
He bit his tongue. Then why not just ask Grayson to call a meeting with her? Why did his father have to do something drastic and give away the shares promised to him? “So, Becca. If we, I mean Guac Olé, were to create a healthier version of its dip, how do you think it would do in restaurants?”
“In restaurants?” she repeated, shaking her head. “We don’t sell to restaurants.”
“But we could.” He smiled and stopped, remembering his dimples. “I mean, you could with your new power.”
“Power, right.” That got a hearty, albeit sarcastic laugh. “I think having a partnership with restaurants is a wonderful idea, but I also don’t think Grayson’s going to listen to anything I have to say, let alone do anything I suggest. At least not without a fight. His brothers own the other shares, so I’m guessing we could run into a lot of stalemate situations.”
“Well, I could talk to him if you’d like. There are so many Tex-Mex restaurants in this state. I bet they’d love to partner with the number-one leader of premade guacamole.”
“We’re number two,” she corrected.
“I’m forecasting.”
“I like your optimism.” She grinned and glanced down at her watch.
He did the same and saw he still had eight minutes. “If Jack gave me the company solely on an idea, I would move heaven and earth to make it happen.”
“Well, there might be another reason he did what he did.” She pulled a face. “There’s speculation that Jack was doing a bit of matchmaking before he died, and maybe he thought I’d be good for his son.”
“What, you and Grayson?”
“Yeah. Pretty ridiculous.”
Why was the thought of being with him so repulsive? Two could play at that game. He laughed—loud. “Sorry. That’s funny.” He covered his mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
“You and Grayson.”
“Do you think I’m not good enough for your roommate?”
That response caught him by surprise. “Not at all.” He scrunched his eyebrows. “Do you like him?”
“No. God, no. Like, seriously no.”
One no would have sufficed. “You know, Grayson’s a good guy. Under that swanky suit he’s really not a dipshit.”
“You heard about his nicknames already?”
“Yeah, and all I’m saying is maybe you should take some time to get to know him.”
“Noted.” She stood and picked up her tray. “We should probably get back to work.”
Grayson watched as she took her things to the waste area. His undercover mission was going well. He’d learned a few things. Things that he wasn’t particularly proud of. If he was going to lead the company the way his dad would have wanted him to, he needed to get a better understanding of the dynamic between his corporate employees and his line workers.
His years of breezing in and out of employee events and not spending any time in the plant meant he was seeing a future for Guac Olé with only half of the ingredients.
He grinned as he watched one of his young accounting guys try to talk to Becca. She was going to get hit on a lot when her shareholder status took effect.
Why did she hate him so much? He scratched his beard. Maybe it was time to get out of his disguise this weekend and find out.
CHAPTER NINE
Becca took a deep breath and held tightly to the white box in her hands, glancing behind her at all the expensive cars and fully loaded trucks parked around the Cooper estate. Was she really going to spend the next two hours hobnobbing with Gavin and Macy’s family and friends?
Tangie had lent her a black cocktail dress for the occasion. She must have tried on more than a dozen of her friend’s outfits before finally settling on this one. Though it was tighter than the loose-flowing sundresses she normally wore, she loved that it showed off her toned, tan arms.
She glanced down at her black strappy heels. Another new experience. She’d practiced all afternoon walking across her living room’s wooden floor because there was no way she was going to trip and fall tonight.
In addition to coming over with an armful of dresses for Becca to select from, Tangie had also taken to Becca’s hair, teasing it up and out for this occasion. Once done, she’d opened up her makeup case, giving Becca smoky eyes. She’d gasped when Tangie spun her around to face the bedroom mirror, barely recognizing her reflection staring back.
Trying hard not to feel that she was in disguise and that she got gussied up like this every Saturday night, she straightened her shoulders and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, the door flew open and Gavin greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, Becca, come in.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” She offered him the box.
“Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not really an engagement gift, but I thought you could enjoy them tomorrow once the party is over.”
“Is this from Betty Lou’s?” he asked, obviously recognizing the signature white takeout box.
“It’s a dozen donuts. I know you love them as much as I do, so breakfast is on me. Betty Lou made a batch tonight so they’re fresh.” She laughed a little too nervously. “They go great with hangovers.”
“Good to know. That’s very thoughtful.” He grinned. “Macy’s manager might need the whole box in the morning at the rate she’s going.”
The doorbell rang, and Gavin sprang into action. “This is my station for the next thirty minutes or so. Go on in. The guests are outside on the patio. You’ll find Macy and Charlotte out there.”
Just what she needed. To spend the evening with not one, but both women who’d fallen for Jack’s sons. Why had she agreed to come?
She gave her lungs one last deep inhale and crossed the foyer, dropping into an enormous living room. She’d always imagined the inside of the Cooper house as being a place oozing with wealth, but in actuality it was quite simplistic, homey, and charming. Not what she’d pictured at all.
“Care for a glass of wine?”
Boy, would I. Becca turned to see a young server with a tray of white wineglasses. “Thank you,” she said to the girl and took her glass. Would it be bad to take two?
She sipped her wine, recalling the last time she wore a server’s uniform. At fifteen, she’d gotten a second part-time job as a wait staff for catered events a couple times a month. The last party she’d staffed had been a doozy. Matter of fact, it had been a graduation party for a seventeen-year-old Grayson.
She shuddered at that memory. It hadn’t taken place here, but on land high up on the hilltop. She’d accidentally spilled a tray of punch on Grayson’s high school girlfriend. Becca couldn’t recall her name, but her boss firing her on the spot in front of everyone had cut deep. She’d left the party in tears.
And she hadn’t been back until recently. It was unavoidable not to drive by the house on her way to her mother’s. Jack had owned the property, but as far as she knew, the family had never lived there. They probably selected the location for Grayson’s graduation party on account of the massive lawn.
The town’s upper class had looked at her that night like she was an imbecile who didn’t belong on that side of Sweet Ridge.
Funny how an embarrassment as a teenager could follow you right into adulthood.
Becca drank down her wine, drowning that awful memory. Grayson probably didn’t even remember.
Another server passed them with an empty tray and turned the corner. She must be going into the kitchen to restock her appetizers. Becca couldn’t deny she was more than a little curious what the Cooper kitchen looked like, so she decided to take a peek.
Her eyes widened at the huge chef’s kitchen that was quadruple the size of her own. Modern, yet it had a lived-in country charm. She could easily envision herself flipping pancakes while Grayson sat in the biggest breakfast nook she’d ever seen reading the Sunday pa—
Whoa! Where had that come from? She took a long drink of her wine, yanking Grayson out of her vision and replacing him with Tangie, Chuck, Betty Lou, her mother, and maybe Coop, because she’d enjoyed their lunch together the other day.
They were all complimenting Becca on her pancakes. “Much better,” she said out loud.
“What’s much better?”
She whipped around at the sound of that way-too-familiar voice, her wine sloshing over the edge of her glass.
Grayson grinned and grabbed a cocktail napkin from the counter, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She wiped her hands. “You’re back.”
“I’m back,” he repeated and reached for a wine bottle on the counter. One of the caterers came over to assist, but he waved her off and grabbed a wine opener off the counter.
Becca knew he was cutting his trip short, but Coop had said he was coming back next week. She would have never accepted Macy’s invitation if she’d known.
He moved around the kitchen, grabbing an empty wineglass. In a pair of jeans and a loose, white button-down shirt, he was handsome as hell. He poured her own glass before filling his own.
“Thanks.” She needed all the liquid encouragement she could get down for this conversation. “I was just admiring your kitchen.”
“Lots of great memories. I used to spend all of my time in here when my dad threw parties.”
“Cooking?”
“More like flirting with the servers and sneaking the wine.” He lifted his glass.
She laughed and clinked her glass to his. “You know, I could actually picture you doing that.”
He turned and leaned against the counter. “It’s also a good refuge from my brothers and their significant others.”
