“I need more sustenance than beer and bread.”
“We like our yeast products around here,” she jokes.
I bite back a chuckle and take out two plates. Oddly enough, the arrangement in the cupboards hasn’t changed, and it pleases me more than it should. I rip the plastic off the calzones and dump one on each plate.
Her gaze feathers warm over my face. “Are you…sharing?”
I arch a brow. “Is that so surprising?” When she shrugs, I toss a plate into the microwave. My stomach growls, but the drone of the microwave drowns it out. “I owe you one anyway.”
“They’re only five bucks.”
An amazing price for a simple, filling food. The timer dings. They cook quickly too. I swap plates and slide the hot calzone toward her. She eyes it like it might rear up and strike.
“Do I need to take a bite first; show you I didn’t poison it?”
“You’re being nice,” she says carefully. “Thoughtful.”
“Ransom and Mama taught me to be a gentleman. Doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.”
“No? You seem like the warm, fuzzy type.” She takes her food to the table. “Want a beer?”
Her cheekiness is becoming something I anticipate. I can’t wait for the next smart-ass comment to leave those pretty lips.
“Sure.”
She retrieves the beer as the food finishes. We both sit at the table, same seats as before, only, there are no computer screens between us.
I dig into the calzone, and melted cheese oozes out. Eating quietly together at the dining table creeps along the edges of my awareness. I’ve been less self-conscious while buck-naked with a woman. The brewery isn’t exactly a safe topic, but I have no other common ground with Meredith.
“Why are we so short-staffed?”
She lifts a shoulder as she saws at a chunk of doughy calzone. “It’s part-time work, and it’s a short drive from Williston. Tips from regulars can be unpredictable. The nights can be busy, but if they aren’t, the tip money isn’t there. Add in that we need to hire people over twenty-one, and most of the college crowd is ruled out. Williston has only a two-year school, so there isn’t a large population of drinking age, but it’s not like it’s a metropolis in the first place.”
No, Scandal’s population tops out in the hundreds. Williston’s is far from six digits.
“If we do hire college kids,” she continues, “they tend to quit shortly after to get a job in their chosen career. That’s how we lost two last month.”
I didn’t expect her to answer so easily.
We continue eating. I down some of the beer, and the cold washes through me.Damn, that’s good.A guy could get used to this: hot food, cold beer, beautiful woman.
But this life isn’t for me.Meredithisn’t for me. All this is just something to wrap up. A loose end to tie. I’ve built another empire. Cross Financial Consultants bears my name for a reason, and I’m not about to walk away. Definitely not for a woman who comes from a legacy of seizing a life she didn’t earn.
She takes her last bite, so I gather both our plates, catching the surprised lift of her brows. Mama taught me manners, and I won’t disappoint her even though she’s gone. Doesn’t stop me from pausing at the threshold. Meredith is staring beyond her beer, out the window, a slight divot between her brows, sadness scrawled across her face.
A pang of sympathy stings my heart. An unfamiliar sensation, yet understandable. This is the real reason she didn’t close the brewery: she needs the distraction.
It feels heartless to simply walk away and leave her there, mourning.
“Night, Meredith,” I say quietly.
She glances over, her gaze dipping to my shoes before working up my slacks, brushing over my forearms, and finally reaching my face. Her expression is unreadable, yet the grief lessens. “Night, slick.”
Before I do something like laugh at being calling that absurd nickname, I go to the guest room.
ELEVEN
MEREDITH
