Oliver was either shot down quickly or arranged a hookup in record time. My money’s on the hookup.
“Sorry about that.”
Lawrence looks confused. “About what?”
He points toward the bar. “That.”
Lawrence twists in her seat. “Oh, hell.”
I clearly don’t know what’s going on but it’s likely I misread the situation. I don’t think Oliver abandoned our business meeting to hit on a pretty woman at the bar after all.
Brownie points earned. Maybe.
“What did I miss?”
Lawrence’s eyes widen. “I was telling Adelyn about our need for a car service on event night since Lovibond advocates responsible drinking.”
Those last two words catch my attention. “I’ve never heard of a brewery that promotes responsible drinking other than making a general statement about it.”
“Our product inhibits motor function. Our attitude is that it would be irresponsible to provide our beer and ciders for the public without setting an example of how to enjoy them responsibly.”
“That’s such a good point. I wish more people were onboard with that mindset.”
Lovibond Brewery is different. Reservations I had about working with them are vanishing.
“I’m going to give my PA a call and see if that client came through with her deposit.” Little fib.
I locate Maurice’s contact in my favorite’s list and touch his name. “Yes, darling?”
“Maury, I need you to check the books for June eighteenth.”
“Gur, you were here when that crazy-ass-beotch with the spikey pink-and-blonde hair came in to cancel her divorce party.” I don’t need to see Maurice to know his head is impersonating a bobblehead doll as he talks about Mrs. Thompson. That woman sets his flamer ass on fire. I think it’s because they rival one another in the flamboyance department.
I nod at Lawrence. “I know but I needed to confirm before I booked something in its place.”
“Pu-lease book something in her place before the divorce is back on. ’Cause you will have to put my ass up in the nuthouse if I have to deal with her again. And I ain’t sure our health insurance covers a diagnosis of run crazy after dealing with crazy.”
“Oh, Maury, you know you love Mrs. Thompson.”
“Oh hell to the naw.” I can just see him swishing his index finger back and forth like a windshield wiper.
“Consider yourself in the clear. I’m confirming an event for that date right now so put it on the books.” I wink at Lawrence.
“Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. Who’s my rescuer?”
“Lawrence Broussard. Bohemian Cider Company.”
I end my call with Maury and slip my phone back into my bag. “Spot is reserved.”
“Fantastic. Do I go by the office to make the deposit or do that here with you?”
Now is as good a time as any to warn Lawrence and Oliver about Maury. “The office. You’ll deal with my PA, Maurice, on all the financials. It would be a lie to say you’ll be dealing with a young, professional African-American gentleman. He’s loud. Highly inappropriate. Often offensive. He will, without doubt, be wearing something outlandish every time you see him. Probably something with feathers. And possibly makeup with false lashes. But he’s the best personal assistant I’ve ever had. I couldn’t do this without him.”
Lawrence laughs. “You had me at outlandish.”
I’ve lost clients in the past because they couldn’t handle Maurice or deal with his exaggerated femininity. Good riddance.
But Lawrence strikes me as nonjudgmental. Oliver, on the other hand, seems like a man’s man. I’m not sure he’d find Maury’s behavior entertaining. Straight men typically don’t.
Oliver’s eyes lock on mine. And damn. His stare is raw. Makes me feel like I’m standing before him naked. And I have a feeling he knows this. I suspect it’s a well-practiced device. “This is Lawrence’s company. Her celebration. She’ll be the one dealing with Maurice. But no worries. I’m sure they’ll be fast friends. She’s drawn to those who are . . . unconventional.”
Lawrence’s company. Her celebration. Those four words catch my attention.
So what enticed Oliver Thorn to attend our lunch date?
Lawrence pushes away from the table. “I think I’ll make a quick bathroom run before they bring our lunch. Where are the restrooms?”
“By the entrance to the left.”
It’s just Oliver and me at the table. Unless I count our companion, uncomfortable silence.
I don’t typically go blank but this man does something to me. To my brain. To my insides. Everything sort of turns to mush.
“My welcome-to-the-neighborhood happy was delicious.” Dear, God. The way the word delicious rolls off his tongue should be illegal.
“I’m happy to hear you enjoyed it. What was your favorite?”
“The bread, no doubt. I’ve never tasted bread that good.”
“Old family recipe passed down for generations.”
“It’s amazing. And you can bet your ass I’ll be on your doorstep if I catch a whiff of it baking.” Promise?
“I always make several loaves at a time. I’ll bring you some next time the baking bug bites.”
“Please do. And tell me how to persuade the baking bug to bite.”
“I mostly bake when I’m . . .” I stop mid-sentence when the pretty blonde from the bar approaches our table and stands next to Oliver.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Go away, blondie.
We were talking. He was telling me how much he liked my bread. He was practically begging for more. And I was about to invite him over to . . . I don’t know. Break bread or something.
“Can we talk, Oliver?”
“It’s not a good time. I’m in the middle of a business meeting.” Oliver’s expression morphs. There’s no mistaking the change. Pleasant to irritated.
“Please.”
Oliver’s jaw is clenched when his chair screeches across the floor. “Two minutes, Lacey. That’s it.”
Alone, I stare out the window while I wait for Lawrence or Oliver to return. Lunch beats them both to the table. “Everyone leave you?”
“I hope not. I can’t eat all this food.”
Lawrence returns as our server comes by to offer fresh ground pepper. “Where’s Oliver?”
“The girl from the bar came over. She asked if they could talk.”
“Shit. I was hoping she’d leave.”
My curiosity is piqued. I can’t not ask. “An ex?”
“Yeah. Sweet girl but she has lots of problems. Ollie tried to help her, but you can’t help someone who isn’t ready to be helped.”
That could mean a lot of different things. I’d ask more but I don’t want to come off looking nosy. “How’s the quinoa and kale salad?”
“Really good.”
“I’ve considered trying it but I’m loyal to the Waldorf. It’s
never let me down.”
I look at Oliver’s plate. It has a seriously short shelf life. No one likes a soggy bun or cold burger and fries. “Think we should ask the server to put that under the heat lamp?” I don’t know if an upscale restaurant like this would have something like that.
“Maybe, but let’s give it a few more minutes first. I can’t really imagine him giving Lacey much more of his time.”
As Lawrence predicts, Oliver returns a couple minutes later. “Sorry about that. Again.”
“What’s going on with her?” I’m probably happier than I should be when Lawrence asks about the situation.
“Nothing new. Just drunk like always.”
“Geez. She’s tanked? It’s barely noon?”
“Alcoholics and addicts have no sense of time when it comes to getting their fix. You know that.”
“All too aware.” They both sound like they know.
“Did she drive?”
“Of course. Because that’s what she does. But I took her keys and called a cab. Put her in the back myself and watched it drive away.”
I have no mercy for people who drive under the influence. It’s just so stupid and irresponsible. And completely avoidable. But repeat offenders are a different kind of animal. A potential killer every time they’re behind the wheel intoxicated. Anyone in their path could become a victim. “Someone wants to get drunk? Fine. That’s their prerogative. But they have no right to make a two-ton piece of metal their killing machine.” I regret my outburst the moment killing machine leaves my mouth. This is a business meeting. I don’t get to have an opinion about such things when it comes to clients. It’s bad for business. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You have a passionate opinion. That’s your right, so never be sorry for it.” I suspect Lawrence Broussard has a lot of passionate opinions. I like that. I like her. And I like what Oliver did for his ex.
Oliver Thorn. I am not disappointed he came.
Oliver Thorn
“The baking bug bit.” Adelyn is standing at my front door with another basket of goodies. The aroma brings my taste buds and saliva glands together to do the tango.