by Aurora Rey
Drew grinned. “A woman after my own heart. If you change your mind, you let Carlton here know and we’ll hook you up.”
She loved the local food industry for a lot of reasons, but this camaraderie might be the best part. “Thanks.”
Drew returned to the kitchen. Amanda checked her watch and frowned. Fifteen minutes late wasn’t the end of the world, but Mel running late gave her the sort of flashbacks she’d just as soon not have.
“Another glass of pinot?” Carlton asked as she started to stew.
She probably shouldn’t, but sitting at the bar alone and without a drink made her self-conscious. “That would be great. Thank you.”
He poured and she stared into the glass. Would Mel stand her up? Without a text of apology even?
Amanda glanced toward the door, willing herself not to ruminate on that very real possibility. When a familiar face walked in, she had an instinctive flash of delight before registering the details. It was Quinn, which on her own, might have been delightful. Only she wasn’t alone. Hanging on her arm like some celebrity at a red carpet was a stunning brunette who couldn’t be a day over thirty.
Amanda looked away, hoping Quinn hadn’t noticed her. But of course the universe couldn’t be that kind. When she stole another glance, Quinn was looking her way. Quinn raised her hand in a friendly wave, so she did, too. Then she pulled out her phone, hoping desperately Mel had texted her an almost there.
Her phone told her the time and gave her a glimpse of her kids smiling at her from the photo she’d set as her wallpaper. No message. No apology. Nothing.
“I’d say funny seeing you here, but I don’t suppose there are that many places on this side of the lake.”
She didn’t have to look to know it was Quinn behind her. She schooled her face into an upbeat expression before turning. “Small towns.”
Quinn, sans date, smiled back at her. “How are you tonight?”
Miserable. Annoyed. Humiliated. “I’m great. You?”
“Pretty good. Are you waiting for someone?”
Amanda tried for a casual shrug. “That’s the plan. Although I’m starting to fear perhaps they were waylaid.”
Quinn frowned with what appeared to be a mixture of pity and regret. “I’m stuck on a blind date or I’d ask you to join us.”
Humiliation leapfrogged right over annoyance. “That would take the notion of being a third wheel to a whole new level.”
Quinn’s frown intensified.
“But thank you for the gesture. Really.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Absolutely. I have an in with the chef, so she’ll take care of me either way.”
Quinn’s frown gave way to a sort of half-smile that brought out a dimple in her left cheek. It managed to make her look sexy and adorable at the same time. “I sort of wish I was here with you, instead.”
The comment could be read a dozen different ways. Although tempted to tease it apart, she settled on it being a nice thing to say, even if it wasn’t true. “Thank you for the sentiment, but please don’t let me keep you from your date.”
Quinn glanced over to the table where the woman waited. “I should probably go.”
Amanda waved her away. “Have a good time.”
Quinn excused herself, leaving Amanda alone at the bar with her wine. She looked at her phone again. A full hour late and not even a peep from Mel. She contemplated taking Drew up on her offer, of enjoying a nice dinner on her own. Normally, that wouldn’t bother her. Tonight, though, tonight it made her feel pathetic.
She asked Carlton for her check and paid, leaving her second glass of wine half full. She slipped off the stool and headed for the exit, looking in the opposite direction of where she knew Quinn and her date sat. In her car, the sum of her evening hit her. Since no one was there to see, she let a couple of tears spill over.
So stupid. She wiped them away and drove herself home. Once there, she peeled off the dress she’d poured herself into and drew a bath.
Still nothing from Mel.
A twinge of worry played at the back of her mind. What if something terrible had happened? No way was she Mel’s emergency contact, so she might not know about an accident or anything like that for days.
Even as anxiety took hold, she shook her head. How many times had Mel run late or not come home for dinner at all? Every time, Amanda’s worry fought with her anger. So much so that even when she laid into Mel about it, relief tempered her wrath and she would be quick to back down. She didn’t want to feel that wrath anymore, or that relief. And she wouldn’t.
She slipped into the steaming, sudsy water and let the tension melt away. Whether it was the bath or her decision, she didn’t know. Either way, the certainty of it felt good. Yes, it had been fun. She just didn’t want to do it anymore.
* * *
Without being obvious, Quinn had continued to steal glances at Amanda while her date perused the wine list. They’d no sooner settled on a local dry Riesling than she saw Amanda pay her tab and leave. What was that about? She was pretty sure Amanda hadn’t eaten. Even if her friend canceled, why wouldn’t she have dinner since she was already there?
She tried to convince herself the curiosity was more friendly concern than romantic interest, especially since she was here on a date. Even if it was a date she’d been hesitant to agree to in the first place. “So, how do you know Kiera again?”
“Yoga.”
Right. The goat kind. “How did you get into that?”
They chatted about exercise, ordered wine. Over dinner, conversation hit the expected first date high points—hometowns and family trees and the best parts of upstate New York in the summer. Lisa was beautiful and charming and easy to talk to. But like so many of the women Quinn had been fixed up with in the last year, that was the end of it. No spark, no craving for more.
Maybe it was her. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d never be ready.
When they finished eating, Quinn insisted on paying the check. In part, she was old school and preferred to when her date didn’t mind. Really, though, it made her feel less guilty about not having her head, or her heart, in the game.
On the drive back to Lisa’s apartment, conversation lulled. It felt like more of a comfortable silence than an awkward one. That might have been more wishful thinking than reality, but the jazz on the radio was nice and Lisa had mentioned liking Nina Simone.
It didn’t take long for her thoughts to drift to Amanda.
It felt skeevy to be thinking about Amanda while driving another woman home from dinner. They weren’t sexual thoughts, though, so it could be worse. Not that she hadn’t had her share of sexual thoughts about Amanda since they’d met. But tonight was different. There was something in Amanda’s eyes she hadn’t seen before: vulnerability. Despite the casual conversation, it left Quinn longing to swoop in and rescue her. From what, she had no idea, but something about it triggered all her protective instincts.
She did her best to shake it off, and not only because her date was speaking. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I said you seemed distracted.”
Quinn chuckled. “I think you’re right, although I swear it isn’t the present company.”
“I don’t take it personally. It’s the tricky thing about fix-ups, isn’t it?”
By all accounts, Lisa was a lovely woman: smart, attractive, funny. But she was thirty-five, close to fifteen years Quinn’s junior and Quinn couldn’t help but feel like a dinosaur around her. Lisa hadn’t articulated it in those words, but Quinn got the sense the feeling was mutual. Or, at the very least, they were looking for different things. “People mean well, though, right?”
Lisa laughed, a true and lovely laugh. “Yes. But they’re so bad at it.”
Quinn chuckled. It was a relief to be on the same page. She’d gone into this whole dating process so worried she’d fall for someone who wasn’t interested in her. It hadn’t occurred to her the opposite might happen. Not fall for her full on
, but have interest she didn’t reciprocate. Letting people down gently was now officially her least favorite thing.
Lisa reached across the console and rested a hand on hers. “Oh, God. I didn’t go too far, did I? I do think you’re fantastic.”
Quinn pulled up to a light and looked at Lisa. “No, no. You’re fantastic, too. But not for me. I’m starting to think maybe I’m not ready to be dating after all.”
Lisa offered her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay if you aren’t.”
Quinn let out a sigh and realized how much tension she’d been holding. “And you deserve to find someone who is exactly what you want and who wants the same things as you.”
“We should give our friends a good stern talking-to, shouldn’t we?”
Quinn laughed in earnest then. “Agreed. Knowing two women who both happen to be single and lesbian should not be the sole criteria for matchmaking.”
“Well, we’re smart, too. And charming. It’s not a total leap. Even if we’re in very different places in our lives.”
A thought occurred to Quinn and she cringed. “You didn’t feel pressured to go out with me, did you?”
“It was Kiera. Of course I felt pressured.”
She should leave it at that. After all, she’d felt pressured, too. Kiera could be very persistent. But as much as she feared the answer, she needed to know. “I meant me specifically.”
God, she sounded so pathetic.
“You’re nobody’s pity date, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Relief lost ground to the embarrassment of asking in the first place. “I’m not sure if I should thank you or apologize.”
“Neither.”
She pulled into the lot of Lisa’s building. “Thanks.”
Lisa unbuckled her seat belt and shifted to face Quinn. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Thank you for such lovely company.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around at yoga sometime.”
If she got nothing else out of this date, she could pick up a few pointers on being gracious when it became clear a second date wouldn’t be in the cards. There were worse consolation prizes. “I’m sure we will.”
Lisa made to get out of the car. Quinn did the same, more out of habit than anything else, but Lisa waved her off. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
How classy. Quinn smiled. “You, too.”
She waited until Lisa was inside, then backed her car out and headed home. Lisa’s parting words played in her mind. Maybe her problem wasn’t that her sisters and her friends didn’t get what she was looking for. Maybe her problem was that she didn’t know herself.
But on the heels of that worry came the image of Amanda sitting alone at the bar. With it, the attraction she’d been denying. She wasn’t in the business of pursuing clients, but it was nice to know that part of herself—the part that felt immediately and intensely drawn to a woman—wasn’t broken entirely.
Chapter Nine
Quinn pulled into Amanda’s driveway and cut the engine. She’d been equal parts elated and conflicted when Amanda offered to make dinner for their rescheduled meeting. Elated because it meant time with Amanda, not to mention a home cooked meal. Conflicted because she worried Amanda felt obligated. Oh, and because she had no business being elated.
She took a deep breath and gathered up her bag and the revised plans she wanted to review before handing things over to Joss. For some reason, having them, having a reason to be there other than dinner with Amanda, made her calmer. She shook her head. That was the problem with so many iffy, if not downright bad, dates. They had her on edge about spending time with an attractive woman.
Work. She was here for work. Nothing more, nothing less. At least when it came to work, she knew what she was doing.
She repeated the sentiment to herself as she climbed the porch steps and rang the bell.
When Amanda answered the door in a pair of jeans, a paisley top, and flats, she relaxed. So not a date. Even if the smile Amanda offered was enough to make her wish it was.
“Hey. It’s so good to see you. Come on in.”
“Likewise. Thank you for inviting me.” She took in the details of the entryway and living room—many of them the original craftsman design—and nodded her approval. “You’ve got a great place.”
“High praise coming from an architect.”
Quinn frowned. “I’m not a snob.”
Amanda smirked. “Oh, I hope you are at least a little. I’m an incorrigible snob when it comes to baked goods.”
The comment made her like Amanda even more. “I won’t confess my Little Debbie habit to you then.”
“And I won’t tell you about the original molding sacrificed for my kitchen reno.”
Quinn nodded. “Deal.”
She followed Amanda down the short hall to the kitchen. It definitely had the look and feel of a recent high-end remodel. Still, it wasn’t garish or modern or too out of step with the character of the house.
“I spend enough time in here that I let myself get exactly what I wanted.”
“I find nothing to take issue with.” She really didn’t. It almost made her wish she cooked.
“Are you just saying that so I’ll feed you?”
She chuckled at how close the question cut to her line of thinking. “Maybe.”
Amanda laughed and even though they absolutely were not on a date, Quinn made a mental note to try to get her to do it again. And again after that. “Don’t worry. I never promise to feed someone then take it back. I think it’s part of the mom code.”
“Oh, good.” Quinn set her things down on the table. “Still, I hope you didn’t feel obligated to make me dinner.”
“Does wanting to do something nice count as feeling obligated?”
She sure hoped that wasn’t the case. “Not necessarily.”
Amanda lifted a shoulder in a way that might be flirtatious. “I don’t bail on meetings, especially if someone has gone out of their way to show up at my bakery. This feels like the least I could do for making you reschedule.”
Quinn offered a shrug of her own. Any lingering disappointment was overshadowed by the dinner invitation. For the dinner as much as the company. “It happens to the best of us.”
“It’s kind of you to say so.”
“It’s easy to be generous when a beautiful woman is making me dinner.” Her cheeks flushed. Did she really just say that?
Amanda bit her lip but didn’t seem to mind the compliment. “I’ll remember that.”
A bolder woman would take it as invitation. Quinn wasn’t quite that, at least not these days. “So, what are we having?”
“Coq au vin. It can simmer while we go over the plans, which I figured we should do first.”
She had a point, especially since that was the reason for meeting in the first place. “Sounds perfect.”
“Can I pour you a glass of wine now?”
The offer of wine made her think maybe Amanda didn’t consider this strictly a business meeting. “Only if you’ll join me.”
“Well, if you insist.” Amanda pulled a bottle from the fridge and poured two glasses.
Quinn accepted her glass and lifted it. “Here’s to rescheduling in style.”
Amanda touched her glass to Quinn’s. “I’ll drink to that.”
They sat at the table and Quinn unrolled the plans. After getting Amanda’s approval on her more radical design, she’d worked out a more detailed plan. Still, she wanted Amanda’s input, especially on the layout for the kitchen. “I’ve done a handful of kitchen spaces, but none with your exact uses. I did some scouting for best practices, but I think you should drive the process since you actually spend time there.”
“You say that like it’s unusual.”
“For the owner to also be the head chef? Yes, it’s unusual.”
Amanda gave her an exasperated look. “It’s not some Michelin starred restaurant. I’m not a head chef.”
Quinn studied her, looking f
or something unspoken. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for false modesty.”
“My cakes could make a grown man cry they’re so good. It has nothing to do with modesty.”
The retort came with a straight face and not a second of hesitation. Had she not found Amanda attractive before, it would have tipped the scales. “Point taken.”
They talked through Amanda’s ideas for the different work spaces—baking, decorating, and the new lunch service. It was good she asked because it wouldn’t have occurred to her roasted garlic should never share the same work surface as modeling chocolate. She made copious notes and penciled things directly on the plans. Amanda did, too. In under an hour, they had enough ironed out to take the plans to Joss and the zoning board.
Quinn rolled up the oversize sheets of paper, securing them with rubber bands. “Do we get to eat now?”
“Hungry?”
“I wasn’t, but I’ve been smelling that chicken for the last forty-five minutes and let’s say I’m pretty happy with myself for not drooling on your blueprints.”
Amanda laughed. God, she really did have an incredible laugh. “You could have said so sooner.”
Quinn shook her head. “No, work before pleasure. I’m super boring like that.”
“Is work done, then?”
“Done.”
It was a special thing when food tasted even better than it smelled. Amanda’s chicken was that and more. The homemade bread helped. As did the second glass of chardonnay. Or maybe it was the company. Probably a combination of everything. Whatever it was, it was the best meal she’d had in as long as she could remember. She said as much to Amanda.
And then Amanda whipped out this torch contraption and burned the sugar on a pair of crème brûlées. Like, literally, right in front of her. Her spoon did that satisfying crack when it broke the shell and the custard underneath might have been the most delicious thing she’d ever put in her mouth.
“Wow.”
“Like I said, it’s the least I could do.”
“Could you forget all our meetings? Please?”
Amanda chuckled. “Couldn’t I just agree to make you dinner again?”
“But what would I do to repay you?”
