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That makes me laugh. “What are you, one of those super smellers?”
“Maybe.” She wrinkles her nose. “And it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Especially inmyneighborhood.”
Unexpectedly, she grabs my hand and turns it over. She runs her fingers over my palm, finding the callouses.
“Huh! Not such a pretty boy after all.”
“Oh, I’m still pretty,” I growl, closing my hand over hers. “But I also know how to use a lathe.”
Theo laughs, a sound like raindrops down my spine. She takes her hand back. Mine feels cooler and emptier without hers inside of it.
“Plus, I like feeding people,” she says. “Maybe it’s not feminist or whatever, but I like taking care of people.”
“You have to be heartless to be feminist?” It’s almost impossible not to tease Theo.
“You know what I mean.” She shrugs. “I know I’m supposed to be ambitious and take over the world, but really I just want a restaurant small enough that I can peek out and see people’s faces when they try the food.”
An image pops into my head of a tiny brick space, cozy and warm, live plants all around. Theo in a black apron, knife in hand, her dark hair piled on her head, cheeks pink with steam.
“Anyway.” I push that aside. “What are your other conditions?”
She sits up a little straighter, remembering her speech. “Second, no funny business.”
“I would never. I take business very seriously—it’s never funny.”
“I mean it,” Theo fixes me with those big, clear eyes. “No flirting with me, and no fucking with my head. I know you’re not actually interested in me, and I’m not ever going to trust you. Which brings me to my last point…”
“Hold on,” I interrupt. “What makes you think you won’t ever trust me?”
“We’ve been over this.” Theo crosses her arms.
“I’m not the same person I was in high school.”Not even fucking close. “You don’t look like you are, either.”
“No,” she says, with a firm shake of her head. “I’m not.”
“So let the past be the past—including me twisting your arm the other day. I put the pressure on, but I’m not going to fuck you. In any sense of the word.”
Theo lets slip a small smile. Then tucks it away. “I’m going to make sure of that—I want it in writing.”
I nod soberly. “Very wise.”
“Yeah, anold friendgave me some business advice…” She points a stern finger. “This is what I want, written out and signed by you—when you make the deal with Angus, I want ten percent of the cut.”
“Ahh…” The whole room gets a little brighter, a little sharper. “Now the tiger comes out.”
“Don’t think you’re going to bullshit me,” she says flatly. “This is a seven-figure deal. I want ten percent, not a penny less. And that’s generous—I could ask for half.”
“You could ask,” I say, low and dangerous.
Theo shivers, her pale hand twitching on the tabletop. I feel an impulse to lay my hand over hers again, to calm her.
Maybe it’s because I keep remembering the softness of her skin, on the backs of her hands and the side of her arm, the few places I’ve touched, so silky it surprises me each time. It makes me want to let my fingers linger…
No. Touching her now would send the wrong message. I shouldn’t be thinking about that at all.
Right now, we’re making a deal.
The exact deal I wanted—with a ten percent haircut. That’s okay, I respect the hustle. In fact, I like her better for asking.
