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I’m curious to know if she thought the same of the men she dated, and how many there were, but I don’t want to pry.
“So, apart from having relationships with cuisines, what else have you been up to?” I ask instead.
“Nothing much,” Claire answers. “My life’s been mostly about food. I dropped out of college. I went to Greece with a friend of mine for the summer and I didn’t come back.”
I nod. “I remember Joel was pissed about that.”
She shrugs. “Like I said, I fell in love.”
With the friend or with the country? I wonder.
“And then from there, I just traveled throughout Europe, learning all about food.”
“Did you go to any culinary schools?” I ask.
“I took a few lessons, but mostly I learned in kitchens. Real kitchens.”
“Including the one at that famous restaurant in Venice.”
Claire straightens her shoulders as she gives me a grin. “Wow. I didn’t realize you were following my career.”
I don’t respond to that.
“Is it true that you cooked for royalty?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she answers. “When I was in Sweden, I was working under a chef who was asked to prepare a feast for the children of the royal family. They happened to love the meatballs I made.”
“And that bit about you being offered an entire restaurant in Melbourne?” I ask next.
Claire gives me a puzzled look. “Joel told you about that?”
“He did,” I admit. “I think he wanted you to accept it.”
“I know he did. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be tied down to any restaurant. So I left and I kept traveling. I went around Africa and Asia, realized there were so many people going hungry, so I cooked for them. I started teaching people how to cook, how to make the most of the local ingredients. I even helped a family put up a restaurant from scratch.”
I give her a look of admiration. “Wow.”
“That’s what I mostly do now—teach people to cook,” Claire tells me. “In fact, I’m going to give cooking lessons at a local school while I’m here.”
My eyebrows arch. “Really?”
And here I thought she was taking a vacation.
“You seem to have been leading a very busy life.”
Busier than mine, in fact.
“What about you?” Claire asks me. “What have you been up to apart from working for your father’s company?”
Good question. I can’t seem to think of an answer. Have I been up to anything apart from working for the family company in the past few years?
“Is he still working? Your father?” Claire prompts.
“No,” I say. “Ethan is running the company now.”
“Oh. And you’re okay with that? I mean, you didn’t want to be the one to run it?”
“I didn’t.”
“So what’s your position now?”
“VP of Acquisitions.”
Claire’s eyebrows go up. “That sounds important.”
“It’s one of the top positions in the company,” I tell her.
“But VP, that means Vice President, right? So it’s second from the top?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s the highest you can go?”
I don’t answer, because I can sense that Claire is asking something else.
“That’s the position you’ll be holding for the rest of your life? The position you want to hold?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”
“And you’re not answering,” she points out.
And she’s not going to stop pestering me until I give her an answer. I sigh.
“I’m not going to be working for the rest of my life.”
“But you’ll be working until you’re sixty? As VP of Acquisitions?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
Claire’s eyebrows furrow. “You guess?”
Is that… disappointment I hear in her voice? What the hell?
“What do you care?” I ask her before taking a sip from my glass of water. “The last time we spoke, you barely wanted anything to do with me. Now you want to know my plans for my whole life?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“No. You’re prying.”
“I…”
“And you have no right to, because you’re not my best friend. In fact, we’re not even friends.”
Claire’s jaw drops.
I get out of my seat, grab my coat and leave a fifty-dollar bill on the table.
“I have to get back to work.”
Without saying another word or waiting to hear one from Claire, I walk away from the table and head out of the restaurant.Chapter FiveClaire
Stupid Ryker.
Thanks to him, I’m in a foul mood on New Year’s Eve, sulking by the window while my friends are dancing in the living room. Like it wasn’t bad enough that I was pining for him on Christmas Eve.
I know he’s not a jerk, so why does he have to act like a jerk towards me? I don’t even know why he’s mad. All I did was ask him a few questions. I answered all of his questions, too.
I roll my eyes at the moonlit sky and mutter under my breath. “Jerk.”
“Hey.” Christy stands next to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to dance?”
She bumps her shoulder against mine but I don’t budge.
