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“You’re no judge.” He nudged her with his shoulder; their fingers bumped again. He did take her hand that time, for a few steps, then squeezed and released before she could balk and pull away herself. She moved off for a few steps, then came back, which made him absurdly happy.
“What is SoftCare about?”
“We provide care management software to client companies that have to keep track of patients.”
“Which means…”
“Which means really sick people can have all their information in one place and a nurse care manager coordinates all the medical care, works with the families, et cetera.”
“You do what there?”
“I’m the IT director. I manage the technical stuff in-house to make sure the company runs smoothly. I help the sales force make recommendations to potential clients.”
“And you wrote a book.”
“Justin wrote the book. I did the geek stuff, the online interactive part. People read the chapter either in book form or online, then work with the hands-on demos to learn how to maintain and get full use from their PCs, troubleshoot when things go wrong and so on.”
“Sounds brilliant.” She bent to pet Dylan, who’d crossed to sniff something near her feet. “If the book takes off, will you quit your job?”
“Only if I have something satisfying to do instead. Volunteer work, maybe. I’d love to teach basketball, maybe mentor kids, get them turned onto fitness in some form. Maybe get certified to counsel drug and alcohol addicts. Probably in some sense an attempt to make up for not being able to help my brother, Tom.”
She looked up, her face soft with sympathy. “That’s an honorable goal.”
Troy shrugged, trying to hide his pleasure at Darcy’s admiration, and trying not to feel envious of Dylan with her hands all over him. That had to be a new low, wishing he was a dog. “Tell me about Gladiolas.”
“Most of the time it’s hell. But it’s my hell, and I signed on for it, so I suppose I love it.”
“You suppose…?”
“I do.” She sighed, straightening to continue their pace. “It’s everything I’ve wanted and worked for. It got me sober, gave me something to live for. The hard part is realizing most restaurants don’t survive, and trying not to look at this as my only shot.”
He nodded. Similar to how he felt about her, even though it was ridiculously soon after he met her to be having those worries. “But Gladiolas is doing really well.”
“So far. But…stuff happens.”
He glanced at her. Her mouth had set into a tight line again. His instinct prodded him. There was more there. “Like what, for instance?”
“Like some jerk you fired gets back at you by opening a nearly identical restaurant in the same town.”
“Oh, nice.” The pain in her voice made him want to find whoever this guy was and punch him out. “Is this a done deal?”
“He’s opening at end of the month. Got a wealthy investor, ideal location.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” She pushed her hair back with both hands, then let it fall. He felt she needed more from him, but he had nothing to give. He’d learned with Debby that if he tried to solve a partner’s problems, he only ended up responsible for issues that weren’t his to fix, and she ended up incapable of acting on her own behalf.
“Tell me how you got into cooking.”
“Mom was a terrible cook, so I did most of the food in our house. I always loved it. Seemed natural to get a job in a kitchen as soon as I could work. The chef took me under his wing, got me to stop self-destructive behavior and sent me on the straight and narrow.”
“Drinking.”
She nodded. “Chip off the old block. I was able to stop the abuse without giving it up. My sister Brit is in recovery, has been for nearly a decade.”
“Good for her.” He slowed their pace. She wasn’t only talking, she was pouring out her life. The contrast with the other night was stark. Did she just need anyone to listen, or had she decided to trust him? He didn’t think she’d tell him all this if she was never planning to see him again. The thought made him want to jump around like a kid.
