I gave both my friends a level stare. “Sometimes, I wonder why I bother asking you two for advice at all.”
“That’s simple,” Iris said. “Because underneath that stony exterior, you’re like a fragile, delicate little flower who just wants to be cuddled.”
“Uh,” I said. “No. That’s definitely not it.”
Iris held her fingers close together and squinted. “Isn’t it, though? Just this much?”
I sighed.
Chapter 8
NICK
I was leaning on the kitchen island while Rich clanked his way around my cabinets. He had something sizzling in a skillet and a tray of veggies roasting in the oven.
“You said you do have basil?” he asked.
“Yeah. On the windowsill. It’s fresh. You use the clippers in the knife rack to trim whatever amount you need.”
“Fancy,” he said.
I grinned. “Not really. Even Cade could keep a basil plant alive, and it means I don’t have to remember to buy more when I run out. It’s self-refilling.”
Rich paused long enough to give me an incredulous look. “Cade couldn’t even keep the artificial plants I got him for his birthday alive. This basil plant would be in flames within a day.”
I chuckled. “Okay. You’re right. But you get my point.”
“So, how is the Bark Bites acquisition going? I’d been meaning to ask you about it.”
“Fine,” I said.
Rich paused with a handful of basil in one hand and the tiny clippers in the other. “Fine?” he asked. “What happened to the Nick I know? The one who would usually have exact figures and projections memorized by now? I estimate that—”
“Point taken,” I said. “And I don’t have an estimate I’m confident in yet. This one is . . . complicated.”
“They’re all complicated.” Rich had completely stopped what he was doing to watch me. I could feel that obnoxiously perceptive mind of his putting the pieces together already. I knew him well enough to know there was no point in trying to hide it now. Keeping something off Rich’s radar was possible, but once he’d set his sights on it, it was only a matter of time before he would figure it all out for himself.
“Working with Miranda is complicated,” I said.
He nodded, as if he’d already figured that out. “Cade told me about that. When you failed to mention it to me after a couple days, I wondered.”
“I didn’t mention it because I already decided how to handle it. I’m not going to get attached, because I don’t want my feelings impacting my business sense.” And I’m not good for her. She needs me out of her mind and out of her life.
Rich folded his arms.
“Shouldn’t you stir that?” I asked.
He didn’t budge. “It can wait.”
I wanted to groan.
“Do you want me to step in and run this one?” he asked. “Remove yourself from the situation if you can’t trust your judgment?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t run from things when they get hard. This is my problem to solve.”
Rich watched me through narrowed eyes before laughing and turning to stir the food. “Damn. Nothing gets you riled up. You must really like her.”
“I’ve barely talked to her in seven years. If I really liked her already, I’d be as worried about my judgment as you seem to be.”
Rich spoke now with his back to me as he moved around the kitchen, tending to the meal. “Love isn’t like a cake, Nick. There’s no set recipe and no required cooking time. It’s more like cookies. You can eat that shit raw, if you want, or you can pop it in the oven and wait to see how it turns out. You can do both. You can leave it in the oven too long, and it still tastes good. But from the moment you mix up the dough, you know if you like it or not. Time isn’t really going to change that.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Advice on love from Martha Stewart, brought to you by Richard King.”
He turned to smirk at me. “I’m serious, though.”
“I know you are. That’s why it’s funny. But being able to restate something in the form of an analogy doesn’t mean it’s true. That’s your idea of love, not mine.”
“You ever been in love?” Rich asked.
“No,” I said.
“Exactly. Then your opinion on love doesn’t get to overrule mine. Love is like cookie dough. Case closed.”
I shook my head and began checking emails on my phone. “Then I’m choosing not to taste the cookie dough, because it’ll be better for everyone involved. I’m also pretty sure there’s an increased risk of getting foodborne illnesses from eating raw cookie dough. Haven’t you ever read the packaging?”
“I don’t read packages, and I cook it from scratch. Besides, the purpose of a cookie is to be eaten. Not eating a cookie means it existed for nothing. How could that possibly be the best for the cookie? It sounds like you’re just choosing what’s best for you.”
“I refuse to take this seriously anymore. I’m not going to get into a philosophical debate on whether a cookie’s purpose is to be eaten and pretend it has any bearing on my love life.”
“It doesn’t, because you don’t have a love life,” Rich said. “And you never will, at this rate.”
“Good. Then I’ll be able to stay focused on work.”
He gave me an obnoxious look, like a grandma who was planning to patiently hold her tongue so I could learn a lesson for myself.
“You know what? Why don’t you save me some leftovers? Tell everybody I couldn’t make dinner tonight.”
Rich raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t make it to dinner. At your own house.”
“Yes. I need to head to Bark Bites and look into something.”
“Miranda’s eyes?”
I gave him a dry look. “She has been off work for a few hours now. It’s just going to be me there.”
“All right. Whatever. I’ll throw some of this in Tupperware, but my pasta isn’t as good left over. Just warning you.”
“It’s not that great fresh either.”
“Asshole.”
Chapter 9
MIRANDA
I rubbed my throbbing temples and let my forehead thump down on my desk. I wasn’t sure what I was trying so hard to prove by coming in late. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I was here because when everything felt complicated and confusing, I could always count on work to be simple. I could come in, find something meaningful to do, and do it.
Except I was hitting dead end after dead end. I didn’t have access to the complete financial records of Bark Bites. I had the publicly reported data as well as what their accountants officially compiled. I didn’t have the unofficial data, which was what grabbed my interest the more I looked into the numbers.
I was almost certain those would be in Nick’s office, just like I was almost certain the security guard who had let me in was still watching a movie on his phone at the front desk. I doubted he’d even think to come back to this wing of the office.
I scooped a paperclip from my desk and headed across the hall to Nick’s door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. That was why I’d grabbed a paperclip.