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Gesturing to the large banquettes on either side of the hall, he asked, “Will that work?”
With a nod she said, “It’s perfect,” and then after a small pause, followed up with, “Deacon, I’m really amazed at what you have here. It’s your own little empire.”
He studied her face for a moment, until she almost backpedaled and finally responded with, “Thank you. That really means a lot. And back at you. Owning your own business is huge.”
“Thanks,” she said after an uncomfortable moment. “Speaking of work, I need to get back to that. The guy overseeing my work on this job is a real tyrant.”
Eyes narrowed, Deacon asked, “Is he now?”
Snickering, Sara replied, “Totally. I’m trying to stay off his radar! Catch you later.” She walked out of the ballroom.
Settling back into work took Sara a few minutes because she checked in with Elle, who confirmed that Bret’s references checked out and that he had accepted the job. He’d be working with her tomorrow. Doing a happy dance she thought about the meatballs, but decided lunch was a necessity before she dove back into work.
Walking over to the commissary, she grabbed a lackluster salami sandwich, a bag of chips, and a refill on her coffee. After practically inhaling it, she got back to work on the meatballs, diced what felt like twelve pounds of aromatics and herbs, portioned the remaining meats and seitan. It was really the least texturally objectionable of all vegan-friendly proteins. Then she started the stocks simmering for the soups and stews.
Feeling a second wind kick in, she heard a slightly disembodied ringing from her office. Hustling in to answer it, she grabbed it on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“Sara. It’s Deacon. I figured you’d still be here. When was the last time you ate?”
“Two thirty, Dad. How about you?”
“Smart-ass. I’m upstairs and probably gonna be here for a while. I’m ordering Chinese. You interested?”
Checking her watch she said, “Yeah. Holy crap. It’s seven? I’ve got at least another hour and a half here. Yeah. Totally interested. Grab me a kung pao chicken. Spicy Level—face scalding. Let me know what I owe you.”
“Kay. I’ll swing it by when it arrives. I can collect when I get there.”
“Awesome. Hey. Thank you.”
“No problem. Bye.” And he disconnected before she could respond.
Shrugging, she moved back into the kitchen and got back to work on the base for the soups. She was softening the aromatics in three separate stock pots and was in the process of pouring in the stock, when Deacon slowly opened the door, carrying a small cardboard box, which ostensibly contained her meal.
Sniffing the air, he said, “Mmm. I love the smell of butter and onions cooking. That’s the best.”
“It can’t be better than what you’ve got in the box. That’s dinner, right?”
After receiving a nod to the affirmative, she sighed happily then asked, “What do I owe you?”
He just shook his head and said, “I’ve got it.”
Shaking her head, Sara said, “Nope. It doesn’t work that way,” as she went to the office for her purse.
Smirking, he said, “It does today.”
Holding up her hands, she said, “Okay. Gimme.”
Setting the box down, he handed her two containers. “One of those should be white rice.”
Grabbing chopsticks, he handed them to her.
Opening the chicken immediately, she snatched the chopsticks out of his hand and dug in.
“Oh man. That’s perfect.” She moaned in appreciation.
Smirking, he grabbed his own container and chopsticks. Leaning casually on the counter, he opened his and took a bite.
