Rise (Rise & Fall Duet #1) - Grahame Claire Page 0,36

I gathered the carrot peels to toss in the trash.

“No. Wait.”

I froze.

“We can use those,” Lexie said. She pulled out a baking sheet and lined it with parchment paper.

“In the dog food?” Why did I peel them if she was just going to add them back in?

“We could. Put them here.” She pointed to the baking sheet. “We’re going to make snacks for us.”

I stared incredulously as she drizzled olive oil and an array of spices on the pile before tossing it. Eric helped her spread the peels into a thin layer.

“You eat those?” I had my doubts. Serious ones.

“We make awesome strawberry ice cream, don’t we?” she challenged.

I couldn’t very well argue with that point. “You do.”

“Wait until you taste these babies.” She tilted her head. “It’s not strawberry ice cream, but for healthy food, it’s the bomb.”

“Dot com,” Eric finished.

“I have no idea what that means.” I shrugged.

“You will soon enough.” She surveyed the space. “All of this is trash.” She waved her hand over the counter. “There’s some cleaner and paper towels in that storage locker.”

I followed her gaze with mine before I set to work. Once I’d cleaned, they set up jars, lids, and labels.

“Where do you keep all of this?” There was enough to fill their home refrigerator easily.

“Here. The morning shift people don’t mind if we use their space because we pick it up before they get here.” She sat on one of the stools.

I checked my watch. It was nearly ten. “What time do you arrive?”

“Six thirty.” She spoke simply as if it were no major issue.

I had usually been to work for a couple hours by then, but I wasn’t most people. These two had an admirable work ethic and seemed to manage to have a life outside of their business . . . something I hadn’t been able to accomplish.

Eric placed the tray of carrot peels in the oven when the ready light lit.

“Teague said you specialize the dog food according to breed.” I leaned against the counter.

Lexie straightened. “We do.”

“We’re making the base now,” Eric said.

“We usually customize after that’s done,” she finished. “We mix it up every day too. Yesterday’s base had fish, today it’s chicken.”

“And you deliver to your customers every day?” I appreciated their desire for freshness but wasn’t sure it was a necessity. If they had someone to deliver for them, that would free them up to grow their business.

“Some twice a day.”

My brows shot up at her revelation. “Will the food not keep a few days?”

“It will.” Lexie stirred the pot on the stove. “We do what’s best for the dogs and their owners. Some people like only a few deliveries a week and others want daily.”

“If you dictated the schedule, you could streamline your process.”

Lines creased her forehead. “We’re a niche. Customizable. That’s what makes us unique and successful.”

And they’d done well, but they could do better. Having an outside eye helped identify areas for improvement.

“What about your bottom line?” A few tweaks and they could increase profitability.

“We’re not starving,” she said crisply. “And our customers like what we’re doing, including your brother and Pepper.”

“They run a rescue. The food is free. Of course they like it.”

She turned her back on me and slumped her shoulders. She banged the spoon on the pot so hard Eric jumped.

Fire blazed at me when she wheeled back around. “We work really hard. I thought you of all people would respect that.”

She didn’t use that lethal tone I was used to. It was even, quiet, and effective.

“I do. I—” I plowed a hand through my hair, rarely at a loss for words. “Business is what I do—”

“Dictating is what you do.”

Probably. But my way was the right way. It might not be best to mention that now.

“Please don’t fight.”

Lexie paled, and I recoiled at Eric’s words. While a part of me enjoyed riling her up and arguing, the other recognized we weren’t the only ones in the room. Eric was sensitive. It hadn’t taken spending much time around him to realize that.

I didn’t want to upset him.

I frowned. When was the last time I’d cared about someone’s feelings other than Beau’s and Teague’s?

“I’m sorry, bow tie.” She side-hugged him, and he gave her a wide smile.

I remained quiet, the clam Beau had accused me of being. What was I doing here? I had no place in their lives, no time for other people. I couldn’t worry about the decisions I made or the words I used and how