with Em is exercise enough for the day. “They’re slammed with room service requests, but I called in a few favors from friends downtown—most restaurants there are closed, so their employees are available for extra work. Got two dishwashers and four sous chefs, plus a pâtissier from that bakery you love so much on Biltmore. I offered to jump on the line myself, but Chef Katie just laughed at that. So I put calls in to our suppliers to assure them the roads on the way up here are plowed. Generators are operational, and we’ve got plenty of dry wood for the smokers. We’re making it work.”
Beau pats my shoulder on his way out of the room. “Good work, brother.”
My heart twists. Part pride. Part guilt. If only he knew the kind of work I was doing with our sommelier this morning.
Whatever. I’ll figure out how to make Beau see the light about Emma and me. In the meantime, I just gotta get through today.
Hank and I are quiet during our workouts. Normally, that silence doesn’t bother me. Hell, most times I don’t even notice it. But this afternoon, it feels off. Maybe because Hank is beating the shit out of Olly, throwing punch after punch after punch. Sweat flies everywhere, and his face is bright red.
“You okay?” I ask.
He cuts me a look. “Fine.”
“You’re not fine. Talk to me.”
“I’d rather not.”
I hold up my hands. “Your call. But I’m here if you want to tell me about this girl who’s bothering you.”
“Who says it’s a girl?” Hank wipes his forehead with the back of his gloved hand.
“I do. I haven’t seen you like this”—I nod at the sweat covering the floor at his feet—“in an age.”
“It’s nothing.” He delivers a stinging blow to Olly’s left kidney. “Just a shitty situation. Love sucks.”
I arch a brow. “That all you’re gonna give me?”
“Yup.” He goes silent again, the only noise the slap of his gloves as they meet with Olly’s increasingly battered body.
“Do you want some food? I’ve got leftover lasagna in my fridge. And a pint of that peanut butter cup ice cream I made for Milly’s birthday.”
“You don’t have plans for dinner?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just offering you some good shit in your time of need, that’s all.”
“Do you?” He pauses. “Have plans tonight?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I do. Why?”
He starts jabbing Olly again. “No reason.”
I roll my eyes. Hank isn’t usually a drama queen—in fact, he’s the opposite—so I’ll give him a little space to figure out whatever shit he’s got going on. I grab my phone and turn on a playlist, Drake blasting through the speakers in the ceiling. Determined to mind my own damn business.
But as I watch Hank pummel Olly, I can’t help but feel there’s something desperate about the way he punishes the dummy.
He’s punishing himself.
Clearly, he’s hurting over this girl. Since he won’t tell me what happened, all I can gather is that she broke his heart.
That does suck. As much of a pain in the ass as my brother can be, I love him, and I want him to be happy. Now that I know how fucking great love feels, I want him to find it too.
I arrive at the restaurant twenty minutes early. I order a Manhattan and a water, and try not to chug both as I wait. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I fell for someone else on purpose. It just happened.
Besides. Maybe this makes me sound like a dick, but V is a stranger. She’ll be a stranger after we part ways tonight. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.
I just have a bad feeling about this that I can’t shake. Maybe that’s why I finish the water and most of the Manhattan by—I check my watch—five till.
Shit. It’s not even time yet. I just want to get this over with already.
Leaving the CD on the table just in case V happens to arrive while I’m gone, I dart to the bathroom, praying all the while that this goes smoothly so I can head home to talk to Emma. I haven’t seen her since this morning, and I miss her. Yet another sign that what I’m about to do is the right call.
Just as I’m closing the stall door behind me, my phone rings. My stomach flips. Is it V? Did she somehow get my number?
Or is it Emma?
God, I hope it’s Emma.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, furrowing