Page 56 of Sundown Somewhere

He might hate talking about himself, but his projects? Get him going about those and we could be here for hours.

Clearing his throat nervously, he shifts in his chair, taking a long sip of his Bloody Mary. “Errr, I’m Huxley Adams Hayes…Huxley because it was Miss Belle’s maiden name; Adams was her grandmother’s maiden name. I was born on⁠—”

“Wow, you really do not want to tell me about this project if you were about to list off your basic stats. All of which I know by heart, by the way. I have been buying you birthday presents for most of the past three decades.”

“It’s not about wanting to tell you. Or well, not wanting to tell you. But right now, it stays need to know.”

“And I don’t need to know?” I tease.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Promise.” He winks, the butterflies coming to life all over again. I smile, my cheeks heating up, and I wonder if there’ll come a moment when this will all wear off.

“Fine, no Project: Second Star. For now,” I acquiesce. “What else are you working on?”

“A new sustainability program. Specifically for paper. We’ve got a solid program where lumber is concerned. It’s not perfect, but we’re doing what we can to make a dent in the replant program. Paper, on the other hand…”

I sit back, settling into my seat, letting Hux rattle on. Just as I knew he would. I won’t lie, most of what he says doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. I know food. The chemistry of the ingredients. Making a meal come together. Paper presses, fibers, alternative sources, and all the other things he mentions? Yeah, I get lost.

The words themselves don’t matter though. He could be speaking ancient Russian and I would be just as enraptured. Because his passion for what he does radiates through all of it. All of him. He loves those trees. Those woods out on the Hayes property. The science behind forestry and ethically sourcing lumber and creating its byproducts. And watching this passion pour out of him is one of the most wonderful things in the world.

“The whole process uses so many chemicals, and there simply isn’t a way around that. Even if you try to go the non-wood fiber route. Which defeats the purpose, since the whole reason Hayes took on paper all those years ago was to use up some of the waste from the lumber production. But trying to be environmentally savvy while also being profitable isn’t exactly easy.”

“I wish I had an answer for you.”

“Truthfully, it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t trying to solve it for me,” he says, letting out a heavy breath. Shoveling a large bite of his frittata into his mouth, he takes a moment to chew, his deep hazel eyes trained on me the whole time. “I love my brothers, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Most days. But the problem with your family also being your coworkers is that you’re never not working. Gus will talk work anywhere, any time.”

“It’s better now that he has Margeaux.”

“Sorta. She can be just as bad.” He takes one last bite, then points his fork at mine, signaling for me to finish. It’s not that I’ve been ignoring it, but I haven’t been keeping up with him bite for bite. “And they always have an opinion on things. So, I can’t just bitch about it without one of them trying to then tell me how to live my life.”

I nod. The Hayes boys are good at that. They have an opinion about everything and are not afraid to share it. Actually, it’s not limited to the boys. Willa is the exact same way. And her razor-sharp tongue will cut you so fast she’ll be walking away before you realize you’re bleeding.

“But that’s why you have me,” I assure him. That part hasn’t changed. Never will. “The woman in your life.”

Hux smiles. An honest to God, true smile. “It is. You are.”

Oh, heaven help me…

It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because if I were standing, my knees would have given out and I would have crumpled to the ground. As it is, I’m one great big emotional puddle.

It’s time. I need to bite the bullet and bring it up. Ask the big girl question. Get the awkward over with so that we have time to talk about it.

Right, here goes.

“And now, for my personal favorite, the crêpes suzette,” Chef Whittaker says, appearing tableside, two small plates in hand.

Another server clears our frittatas, Chef quickly replacing them with the crepes. The sweet, citrusy scent fills my nostrils, making my mouth water.

“Bon appétit.”

I wait a moment, until I know we’re alone again, watching Hux as he cuts into the crepes. A small piece of syrup sticks to his lips, and the urge to kiss it off rushes through me, but I hold back. I need the answer to my question first.

Here goes. For real this time.

“So…errr…ummm…question…”

“Eat,” he orders, pointing to my crepe, his brow furrowed.

“I will. But, first…” I swallow hard. “This thing…is it following us home?”