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“I want to create my own masterpieces. Not someone else’s. My dishes will mean something to me. Way more than something off a menu that someone else decided on. Does that make any sense?”
“Itotallyget that,” Jenny agreed with a sigh.
“Me too,” the stranger concurred.
“My dishes will be unique, inspired by local flavors, using fresh products grown by the people who live and work in the area. Farm to table. Fresh from our garden to your plate. A farmer’s market type of cuisine,” I explained.
What am I doing?I was sharing my ultimate dream with a stranger. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how this guy could get me to share such personal things without even knowing him.
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“She’s gonna be a sensation,” Jenny said, hopping off the stool.
“Growing up, I thought I’d go into the family business. But things change, you know? I’ve always loved cooking and baking, so I figured if it wasn’t going to be this”—I looked around the space—“then I should go after my passion and open my own restaurant.”
“What if you don’t get it?” he asked.
“I won’t settle until I do.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Do you always get what you want?”
I considered a moment. “Yeah.” A smile crawled across my face. “Mostly, anyway.” I felt Jen cheering me on, visibly excited that I seemed interested in this guy. A complete shock to even me. However, as fun as flirting might be, I would not get involved with anyone after everything I was still healing from.
He laughed. “Yeah, me too.” His self-assured tone made me way too tingly.
Pops came through the open doors.Perfect timing, I silently thanked him.
“How’s it going?” Pops asked with a kiss on the cheek. “Jenny.” He kissed her cheek, too. “How are my girls doing?”
“Great. We’ve just been having a pleasant chat with—I’m sorry . . .” I gestured to our stranger. “I didn’t even catch your name.”
“Michael.”
“Pops, this is Michael. Michael, this is my grandfather, Salvatore Moretti.”
“Michael!” Pops bellowed, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You know him?” I asked. Jenny looked at us in turn like she was watching a tennis match.
“Well, unofficially, yes.” Pops looked at me, then back to Michael. “But this is the first time I’ve met him in person.”
I was thoroughly confused.
My head pinged between him, Pops, Jenny, and back again.
And then itclicked.
My mouth dropped open.
This couldnotbe happening!
Siena
Michael Aiden Blaire—Blaire withan E.
I was mortified.
He slid his empty glass toward me, a bit forcefully, a Cheshire-cat grin on his face. I snatched it up before it crashed to the floor. I grabbed a rag and wiped the counter, watching Michael speculatively.
