But not as hot as Gabe. My boyfriend was six three with dark hair, hazel eyes, broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Gabe was an Olympic-caliber water polo player. No joke. He was slated to go to Tokyo next summer to play with the US water polo team in the Olympics. In the meantime, he coached two club teams and assisted our old coach at Long Beach State. And as soon as we agreed on a location, he’d be the proud co-owner of Bonne Terre.
Okay, so opening a French-bistro-slash-coffee-shop was my dream, not Gabe’s—however, he’d been my number one supporter for over three years. He was my partner in life and in business. Kind of funny considering how much I hated him when we played water polo in college. Life had definitely changed over the past few years.
I wondered whether I would have gone to culinary school if it hadn’t been for Gabe’s encouragement. He had passionate views about doing whatever made you happy. And though a job at my dad’s company would have paid a great salary right from the start, I would have been miserable. Of course, my parents were sure I’d be miserable once I realized I’d signed on to be a glorified waiter for the rest of my life.
Not true. But even if it was, I loved the art, craft, and science of food. And I wanted to share what I’d learned with others. If that meant cooking and serving every meal myself, I’d do it. Well, okay…I couldn’t do it alone. But with Gabe by my side, I felt like anything was possible.
But damn, this place was a mess. Maybe I was in over my head.
“Dude. Stop tormenting yourself. This is doable,” Evan chided, playfully nudging my elbow.
I sighed. “Yeah, but it’s a lot of work. It’ll take at least two months to get this place in order.”
“So what? It’s October now. You’ll be open for the holidays. How cool is that? I know a few guys from my old football team who’d pitch in for beer. And you know Mitch would be happy to help with marketing,” Evan said. “Chelsea will want to help with designer stuff.”
“Phoenix would be happy to help too,” Max chimed in. “He just finished decorating our place, and it’s lookin’ good.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” I glanced over at Gabe. “We need to talk about it and run some numbers.”
“Don’t you have a small-business loan?” Evan asked.
“Yes, but I’ll need to make sure it covers the renovation costs and setup. Plus, I need to hire a staff and…oh wow, maybe this is too much.” I raked my fingers through my hair and bit my bottom lip. “I can’t say the monthly rent out loud without giving myself a stomachache.”
“Hmm. Leasing office space isn’t my area of expertise, but the agent may be willing to work with you on the monthly. What’s your target rent?”
“Um…” I gave him an amount and bit the inside of my cheek, expecting him to ask what I’d been smoking. He didn’t.
Evan nodded thoughtfully and smiled. “Cool. Want to look around some more or—”
“Nah, we’re good,” Gabe said. “Can we buy you guys a beer?”
“No can do. We’ve got one more appointment. Talk it out and call me. This place isn’t going to be available for long.” Evan pulled out a business card. “Want another one?”
I snickered. “No thanks, Ev. You’ve already given us a few dozen.”
“Just want to make sure you don’t forget me.” Evan waggled his bushy eyebrows mischievously as he held the door open.
We exchanged fist bumps on the sidewalk before parting ways. Actually, Gabe and I didn’t budge. We peered through the dirty window, lost in our own thoughts.
“Would you put a bakery counter on the left or the right?” he asked after a minute.
I pointed to the far left corner of the empty space. “There. And I’d have it wrap around the back wall. There’d be plenty of room for a dozen tables…more in the summer when we can use the front. The awning has to go. I was thinking we could change the color. Blue instead of black. The floor has to be gutted and no doubt the plumbing is crap, but—”
Gabe held my face between his hands and sealed his mouth over mine. Wow, he was a good kisser. I forgot what we were talking about. Hell, I forgot my name. I blinked like I was coming out of a cave in broad daylight when he released me.
He smiled but didn’t step away. “I know you’re going to want to go over the budget and list the positives and negatives. And you’re right, we should do that. But babe…this place is perfect. You know it, and I know it. We can make this work.”
“Sure, if we eat ramen for a year.”
Gabe chuckled. “Somehow I doubt my chef is going to serve me Cup O’ Noodles.”
I leaned against him. “It’s a big decision, Gabe.”
“I vote yes. You?”
“Yes, but…we’ll have to ask my folks for help. A temporary infusion,” I added before he could protest. “We’ll pay them back within a year and—”
“And they’ll make some crappy remark about how you wouldn’t need to borrow a dime if you’d taken a different career path. You’ll get upset and second-guess yourself, and that’s crazy ’cause you know what you want. Trust yourself. Trust your vision.”
I smiled. “I do.”
Gabe draped his arm over my shoulders and gestured inside. “So tell me what it’ll look like in December.”
I cocked my head and squinted, letting my imagination go wild. “It will be sophisticated yet inviting. Dim, sexy lighting, garlands hanging from the bar, and maybe mistletoe overhead. I want everyone who walks by to wish they were eating at our café that night. I want it to be special.”
“It will be,” he assured me, dropping his arm, then linking his fingers with mine.
We held hands as we made our way to our car parked on the next block. He hummed as I went on about the menu, the wines, the local bakery I wanted to use for fresh breads and pastries, the guy I wanted to hire to be my manager…
Gabe was right. I had a vision. I knew what I wanted. Yeah, it was scary to go out on a limb and try something new, but I was ready. More than ready.
Chapter Two
Gabe
The referee blew the whistle on Henderson and hooked his thumb, indicating he was out for the next play. We had a five-on-six power play now with fifteen seconds left on the clock and a tied score. Of course. I shouted a call to the team captain and took a deep breath. God, I wanted to be in the water. Coaching had to be the most frustrating job ever. Every time a player blew a shot on goal or lost the guy they were supposed to be defending, I wanted to jump in and take over.
The funny thing was that I was actually good at teaching offensive maneuvers in practice. The urge to grind my teeth and throw f-bombs only happened during games. Not just high-intensity ones. This was a season-beginning game. It was practically a scrimmage. It didn’t matter if we won or lost. We were supposed to have a fucking great time…and hopefully learn something in the process. I clenched my fists, willing my boys to remember what they’d been taught when the whistle blew again and the ball was tossed into play.
Jimenez kept up with his man, spreading his arms wide before swatting the weak pass and sprinting back to our goal. He pulled himself into position in front of the goalie and faked a shot to his right, sending a rocket into the right upper corner of the net. Score!