She does, both hands on the takeout and her purse hooked on one shoulder. Her shirt is a button-down. I remind myself to do some finger stretches to limber up. Every time she’s with me, I take her clothes off. I don’t expect tonight to be different.
“I’ll get dressed.” I lean down and kiss her, but she goes up on her toes and makes the short peck last longer. When we part, her eyes search my face—for what I’m not sure.
“Back in a sec,” I tell her, then I go to the bedroom.
I come out in jeans and a tee to find Becca has kicked off her sandals. She’s sitting at the table, one long leg crossed over the other, a foam container at each place setting with plasticware and a beer for her.
“I helped myself.” She lifts the beer bottle. “Want one?”
“Yeah.” She starts to stand, but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get it. You’ve done plenty.” Beer in hand, cap off, I take my first drink and let out a beer-ad-worthy sigh. It tastes damn good. “What’d you cook?”
“Well.” She sucks in a breath and holds it. “Two new recipes. I wanted your opinion on them.”
Time to regroup.
Is she reconsidering my offer to help with the menu? Is this meal going to include a pitch and a bill for my using them at my bars? Whatever she charges, I’ll pay it. I haven’t tasted a single meal by Becca that hasn’t been amazing.
I sit and place my beer bottle on the table next to the foam container.
“The first,” she starts, her voice an excited chirp, “is a pepper jack and prosciutto panini with arugula and roasted red peppers.” She flips the top open on the container in front of me to reveal a sandwich with perfect diagonal grill marks nestled in a bouquet of seasoned fries.
My mouth is a waterfall.
I lift the sandwich, take a hearty, crunchy bite, and moan in appreciation.
“Damn,” I say when I’m done chewing. “That’s fucking delicious.”
She nods with exuberance as I shove a few fries in my mouth.
“It’s the sauces. The Dijon is on one slice of bread, and I slathered raspberry jam on the other with a bit of freshly cracked pepper. Good, right?”
I shake my head and swallow a drink of my beer. “Not good, Princess. Perfect.”
I take another bite of the sandwich as she flips the top on her other container.
“This one is an appetizer. Cubes of pepper jack cheese rolled in panko breadcrumbs, deep-fried, and topped like nachos. Seasoned black beans, Tad’s chili—which cannot be improved upon—lettuce, diced tomatoes, sour cream. The usual.”
I grab the fork and stab a cheese cube, scooping up toppings with it. Imagine nachos but with gooey, spicy cheese as the bed instead of chips.
God. It’s incredible.
I finish one bite, take another, and follow it with one more bite topped with pickled jalapeño slices she thoughtfully included on the side. Only then do I put down my fork.
“One question.” I swipe my mouth with the napkin. “Did you bring yourself anything to eat?”
Her grin is incomparable. Beautiful.
Fuck, I’m going to miss that smile.
“This is all yours,” she says. “I tested it several times and ate some of each one. Dominic ate the castoffs.”
“And you brought the final products to me.”
“I trust your palate.” She clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath. “I have something to tell you.”
“I’m all ears.” I’m proud of her already and she hasn’t even said anything.
“Tad offered me a higher salary and a change in title. A management position here at Grand Lark. He also asked me to add to the menu. Anything I want. He’s giving me room to hire office or kitchen help to fill in the gaps wherever needed. He said he trusts me. That he was wrong.”
Her eyes mist over as she tells me the news. I imagine it’s because she’s grateful that her brother finally quit being a prick and gave her the respect she deserves.
“That’s great,” I tell her, because this isn’t about me. It is great news that she’s finally being recognized for her accomplishments and valued as a person. Becca deserves to have her talents rewarded. She deserves to thrive.
“That was this morning. He’s giving me time to turn it over, so I agreed to sleep on it. Nothing’s final, but the possibility of creating a menu at Grand Lark...” She beams, her eyes dancing with joy. “As soon as he mentioned it, the ideas came bursting out of me.”
Everything is suddenly crystal clear. Diamond hard. She is definitely not offering me the use of these recipes. She’s not reconsidering my offer to run my bar back in Ohio either. I didn’t realize how high my hopes were until just now.
I nod my approval anyway. “It’s amazing, Becca.”
“It’s a great opportunity. An opportunity I might not have had without your encouragement.” She places her hand on my arm and squeezes. “The chicken quesadilla recipe is yours. No take-backs. Anything I create for Grand Lark will be fresh. I meant it when I said I wanted you to have it.”
Sounds like she doesn’t need to sleep on it. Her mind is made up. “It’s chicken and cheese, Princess. I don’t have the right to patent it.”
“It’s yours.”
“It’s yours,” I correct. At one point I thought we’d collaborate on a menu—at another point I thought we’d collaborate on more than that. Now that we’re not doing either, I refuse to take anything away from her. “I’ll come back and order it sometime.”
Her smile turns sad. “Promise?”
“Promise.” I put my hand on top of hers, feeling the finality of the moment. But I’m not staying in that zone for my last night here. “Seriously, I can eat all of this? Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I mean it.” Her smile is more cautious than before, but it’s no longer sad. I’ll take it. “Except for this fry.” She swipes a spud and nibbles as I dive into the sandwich again. I finish every bite of it plus the nachos, save for the couple of fries and cheese cubes she steals.
Leaves me wondering what else I would’ve let her steal if things had gone a different way.
Becca
Dax didn’t explain to me what we were doing before we climbed in his Jeep, only that he “didn’t get the chance to do it yet” and “we won’t go far.”
I discern quickly that we are, in fact, not going far. Back to the field behind the house, to the same campsite where we made a fire and then made love in this very vehicle.
“Uh-oh.” I laugh as he drives out to the middle of the field and parks.
“Uh-oh what?”
“Nothing.” The top is off the Jeep, so I reach up and finger-comb my hair. “I figured out why we’re here.”
He gives me a practiced look of confusion.
“To stargaze. Obviously.” I gesture to the clear night sky above us. It’s dotted with shining, bright stars.
“That’s why I’m out here, Princess. Unless you have something else in mind?”
I laugh again. “Nope. You guessed it. I was planning on stargazing this whole time.”