Page 51 of Tastes Like Summer

God, will it always be like this?

Jonathan chuckles softly once and runs his fingers through his unaffected-by-the-sauna-like-humidity hair. “Thanks. I drove directly from work.”

“But… it’s a Saturday.”

He shrugs, and with a hand on my lower back, leads me to the passenger door. Holding it open for me, he says, “I normally work a bit on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and since I’ll be spending the night in town, and not working tomorrow, I wanted to catch up on a few things.”

“Gotcha.” I settle into my seat, and he shuts the door.

Before starting the car, he turns in his seat to look at me. “I just want to make sure that you know that I’m trying to kick the workaholic habit. If I had a relationship,” he shakes his head, “I wouldn’t risk it over work. I’m done with that life. I don’t mean to come off too strong, but I’m ready to get into a serious relationship.”

I stare, wide-eyed at him, utterly and completely speechless.

So I guess the whole casual thing with him is out the window, huh?

“Oh.” Because what else am I going to say? Now certainly isn’t the time to tell him I want the complete opposite of that. He drove all the way out here for this dinner, and now I’m just going to send him packing? God, I am a horrible person. I should tell him to stop, should tell him we aren’t on the same page.

But then he pulls out of the driveway with a small smile playing at his lips, and I decide to go along for the ride for the rest of the night. I did go through all the trouble of setting up someone to babysit the girls, after all. And who knows? Maybe he’ll end up being the love of my life.

But I grimace as something knocks the air out of me, because now that the word “relationship” comes to the forefront of my mind, that I let myself play around with the idea of one, it isn’t his face that pops in my head. It’s someone else’s.

The sun is low in the sky, casting a perfect warm ombre light over the road, the beauty of it mesmerizing me to distraction. But as the homes around us turn into long stretches of land and farms after a few minutes of driving, I’m pulled from my trance.

“In retrospect, I probably should’ve asked you this already, but where are you taking me? Because—and I hope you take no offense to this—it kind of looks like you’re taking me to some farm in the middle of nowhere to murder and bury me, never to be found again.”

He snorts once, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “I’m not going to kill you—don’t worry.”

“I mean, that’s probably what a killer would say, but okay. It’s just, this doesn’t necessarily look like a neighborhood where you’d find a lot of restaurants. I just want to remind you I have two daughters who will lose the only capable parent in their lives if you do kill me, so…”

This makes Jonathan laugh. “I’m taking you to dinner, but it isn’t to a restaurant.”

“Oh?”

“I have this friend who’s a chef and is looking for investors for the new restaurant he’s trying to open out here.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

NO.

“You have a chef friend?” My voice comes out high-pitched, no graver than a mouse’s.

“Yeah. We used to be buddies when he lived back in the city, but he had to move out here some time ago, and now… Well, I won’t get into too many details. But anyway, he’s rebuilding his life, and asked me to invest in his restaurant. Michael—that’s his name—is bleeding money, and doesn’t have enough to get a brick and mortar no matter how many side jobs he’s been pulling.”

Michael’s bleeding money? I didn’t know he was having a hard time opening his restaurant. He never mentioned it. Or maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own thing to even realize it.

I really am the worst.

“I automatically agreed to invest, obviously—he’s super talented, only he’s had a bout of bad luck—but he insisted on having a trial dinner anyways. Since I knew he was gonna make a huge deal and pull out the stops, I thought it might be a good idea to take you with me.”

I attempt to swallow the knot that’s formed in my throat, but it won’t budge. This is too much of a coincidence. This is… This is… torture. I cannot go on a date with Jonathan at Michael’s farm—especially not when it’s also a business meeting. And especially not when I’ve been avoiding him after the hot make-out session we had. There’s just no way.

I consider faking an illness or something—though with the sudden onset nausea I feel, I’m pretty sure there won’t be much to fake soon—but when Jonathan flicks his blinker on and turns onto a dirt road, I realize I’m too late. I’m having dinner at Michael’s farm with my date. And I have a feeling it is not going to go well.

The sound of Jonathan pulling the parking brake simultaneously sends shivers down my spine and makes me jump in my seat. Because standing on the porch of a beautiful red barn, which itself stands in front of acres of farmland, is Michael. In the fading sun, it’s difficult to see his eyes, but there’s no missing the way his expression changes when he realizes that the date his friend—and possible investor—brought to this dinner is the woman he kissed just a few days ago.

“Michael. Hey.” Jonathan steps out of the car to greet his friend, hugging and slapping each other’s backs in that weird way men do.