regarded in the food community.’ More of the same. The same…”
“Put your phone away. He was an accidental tourist passing through Weldon. That’s all. Let’s move on as though he were never here.”
* * *
Landon lifted his foot off the gas when he realized he was pushing one hundred. He raked his fingers through his hair and growled in frustration. He didn’t know what he was expecting in the morning, but it wasn’t to find her gone. His first instinct had been to feel used and discarded. Then his conscience butted in. He’d left many lovers’ sides in the middle of the night. If this was how he’d made them feel, then this might be his comeuppance. A humorless laugh filled his car.
Aubrey didn’t owe him anything. The unspoken decision to keep it a onetime deal had been mutual. They hadn’t even exchanged numbers. But he’d changed his mind as the night wore on. He fell asleep with her warm, smooth body pressed against him, looking forward to making love with her in the morning. He hadn’t thought much beyond that except for wanting to see her again. She, on the other hand, did not have a change of heart. Rather than walking the streets of Weldon and shouting her name into the sky, he’d decided to respect her wishes and leave as soon as his car tire was replaced.
Lost in his musings, he almost missed the exit to his office in Santa Monica. He signaled right and pulled into the exit lane, and several cars leaned on their horns. It was a relatively tame lane change with sufficient cushion, but West Los Angeles drivers weren’t the most patient lot. They blared their horns if someone sneezed wrong. He shouldn’t judge, though. Who wouldn’t be irritable with a diet consisting entirely of kombucha and green juice?
Landon parked the car in the space reserved for the editor of California Coast Monthly, and rode the elevator up to the twelfth floor. He nodded his greetings to the receptionist and walked into Craig Blake’s office.
“Heads up.” He tossed the car key to his editor, who barely looked up in time to catch it. “And thanks for nothing.”
“Hey, my car is perfectly maintained.” Craig motioned for him to close the door and stood from his chair to lean against the edge of his desk. Landon had called to give him an update on his detour when he’d checked in at Lola’s. “You must’ve run over some broken glass or something.”
“Either way, it was a waste of time, and I don’t have a real review for you this week.”
On his drive back, Landon had decided not to rain down his wrath on Comfort Zone. It was a small operation, and his review would be incomplete without having tasted other items from the main menu. Then again, even if the other items were good, serving that cake deserved some tough criticism. The memory of the pastry chef’s arrogance still rankled him, but he could let it go.
“Unfortunately, I need a review from you before you leave for Hanoi.”
“You mean in less than two hours,” Landon said incredulously.
“Yes.” Craig scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I agreed to print Gary’s exposé on a truffle oil conspiracy during our Christmas party last year.”
“Gary from marketing? Did you get shit-faced?”
“Of course I did. Why would I stay sober with free top-shelf liquor flowing? Anyway, I told him I really liked him and it’s not because I was drunk.” He paused to grin when Landon slapped his knee and guffawed. “Then we sobbed in each other’s arms about the USC football team’s decade-long struggle. My lovely wife captured the moment on her phone and pulls it up whenever she needs a good laugh.”
“That’s fucking priceless. But truffle oil? Is California Coast Monthly moving toward satire?” Landon covered a yawn with his fist. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Remembering the reason for his lack thereof both turned him on and pissed him off. “Besides, what does all that have to do with my review? I told you I don’t have one, and there isn’t time to visit another restaurant.”
“You know very well there’s no way in hell I’m printing an exposé on truffle oil,” he said. “Wipe that cocky smirk off your face. Gary’s a decent guy, just misguided. His article is well written, and all his references check out, but his conclusions rival the aluminum-foil-helmet-wearing sort. I ran out of excuses, and I have an issue