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“Yeah,” she growled. “I do.”
“Ryan owns Dark Horse.”
Her gaze narrowed, her lush pink lips tightened into a straight white line, and her shoulders fell in either resignation, or disappointment, I couldn’t tell for sure. “You? You’re the owner.”
“I am.”
The look of utter devastation on her face was like a knife straight to my gut, but this wasn’t the emotional girl of eighteen who wore her heart on her sleeve. This version of Pippa was older and wiser, and sure, a little bit harder.
“Am I missing something?” Devon sounded concerned, like his big plan for a smooth opening was about to go up in smoke.
Pippa shook her head as a low, almost silent breath fell from her lips. “Nope, nothing at all. Ryan and I used to know each other about a million years ago, that’s all.” She refused to look in my direction as she ran her fingers through thick waves and gave a curt nod to Devon. “I’m going to go make sure everything is perfect and let you guys talk. If you need anything, I’m around.” Pippa skirted around the desk, taking the longer route around Devon to avoid being anywhere near me.
“We should talk.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought better about it. Devon held his breath as Pippa turned slowly, her gaze met mine reluctantly.
“Am I fired?”
What? Did she really think I would fire her just like that? “No, of course not.”
“All right.” Delicate shoulders fell another inch in relief but she was still wound as tight as a screw. “I need to make sure the wine is chilled and that the waitstaff has all the last minute menu changes, and I’ll return shortly.”
Her agreement, reluctant though it was, buoyed me. As the owner, she couldn’t ignore me the way she could as a neighbor, but still it felt like a good sign. She hadn’t quit or stormed off, which meant she wanted to be here. I could work with that.
“Okay.”
Still, she hurried out of the office as if she couldn’t wait to get away from me.
After a long silence, Devon cleared his throat. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Yeah. Pippa is the one who got away.” Ran away was more accurate. She’d run like the hounds of hell were nipping at her backside, and I was the reason for it. Now she was back and working for me.
“She’s Hate To See You Go?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“The Hauntress?”
“Her, again.”
Devon blinked. “Outside Your Bedroom Window?”
I glared at him. “You gonna go through my whole damn discography? Let me save you a few breaths, Devon. Yeah that’s her. She’s the one they’re all about. Every last one of ’em.”
“Wow,” he sighed. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“No kidding.” What were the odds that the woman I let slip through my fingers would eventually return home and work for the side project that was meant to distract me from a life half-lived?
Devon chuckled and shook his head. “I’m happy I’ll be sticking around for a while. This is going to be interesting.”
Pippa sat across from me at the four-top table where Nina had set up the menu samples for me, and blew out a breath. “We have about fifteen minutes to talk, and then five minutes to get ready for customers. So, you’re the owner.”
“I am.” I wanted to tell her everything, about how I was feeling out of sorts about where my life was headed outside of my career. I wanted to tell her that this was something just for me, to distract me from all the things I didn’t have that a man of forty should have. A wife and kids. A picket fence and a pet. Family vacations. A full life.
“Why a restaurant?”
I shrugged at the surprising question. “My business manager thought a fine dining place could do well in this town.”
I could tell my answer disappointed her but I didn’t know why. “I’ve been working in this industry for a while now, so if you have questions, I’m sure I can answer them.”
Ah, so we were keeping this professional, then? I would allow it. For now. “Great because I feel out of my depth, but Devon has done nothing but sing your praises.”
She nodded absently. “He’s goal oriented and efficient, which I appreciate.”
“What happened to Chicago?”
Pippa shrugged. “Chicago is over. I’m here now.” A wave of sadness washed over her but disappeared just as quickly. She visibly shook off her emotions as if remembering who she was talking to. “Are you up for some interviews tonight? Seven journalists were sent invites and five confirmed, and they’ll definitely want to talk to Ryan Gregory.”
“At least someone does,” I growled under my breath, frustrated that Pippa was so closed off when she used to be so open with her emotions.
She let out a frustrated sigh, but that was the only hint that she was unhappy about this little chat. “Plenty of people will want to talk to you tonight. I assume you’re more comfortable speaking in public these days?”
