“So,” Ileana says with trepidation in her voice. “You gonna see him again?”
“Yeah.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Wow. He sounds...special.”
“I think he might be,” I admit, and Ileana smirks at me.
“I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You and I both,” I agree.
It is too soon to tell Ileana everything. I haven’t even sorted out my own feelings yet. Bren was fantastic on our trip together, and the picture he’s had in his head of what we could be slowly adjusts into focus. The image is distant and blurry, so I can’t quite grasp it, but the more time I spend with him, the clearer it becomes: both of us, pursuing our careers and passions, supporting the other while making time to be together.
Could this work? He made one thing clear on our trip: he is willing to learn and adapt to my needs, and not only sexually speaking. He understands now that my business comes first, and he is willing to be second place. I didn’t know men could get to that place of understanding, or I may have tried dating seriously sooner.
But as much as I want my thinking to be practical and pragmatic when it comes to Brenner Reindhart, a small corner of my heart beats for him, and nothing has ever been so terrifying. Not going off to college where no one looked like me or had names like mine, not saying goodbye to my only family as they left for another country. All that, I weathered with what I thought was significant grace. Starting my own business wasn’t even terrifying. I didn’t bat an eye during the entire process as I set it up. But the thought of Bren breaking my heart makes me nauseous. For all of two seconds, I reason it is the fear of the unknown; I’ve never had romantic feelings for a man, and my heart has never been broken by a romantic partner. I discard the theory because I know already that my feelings for Bren are growing, and I am all in—and nothing could frighten me more.
“Hey,” Ileana says, changing the subject. “David Price called again. Left a message for you.” She hands me a folded piece of paper, and I roll my eyes. “Again?”
“When is he going to get the picture?”
Ileana studies me. “He is rather persistent. Isn’t he?”
“I’ll say.”
“You wouldn’t...” She trails off.
“No. I won’t sell the bar if that is what you’re trying to ask.”
Ileana’s hands draw up in surrender. “Sorry I brought it up. I’d just hate to see this place sell out and lose its heart.”
I smile at her words. I’m proud that’s how my bar is thought of in this community.
“Hand me the phone, will you? I’ll call him back.”
The phone rings twice before David picks up.
“I don’t know where you are getting your information from, but I have no plans to sell.”
“Who is this?” he asks.
“Sofia Ocampo. I ownLa Oficina. You keep calling, and I’m sorry, but you’re wasting your time. I appreciate your interest, though.”
“Oh, yes, Sofia! Thank you so much for calling me back. I’d love to set up a time to sit down with you and—”
“I’m sorry, I hate to be rude, but that would be a waste of both our time. I have no plans to sell.”
“I like your directness,” David says as he chuckles into the phone. “But selling is not the only option. I think the vibe you have going would be very successful in Chicago. Our Latino population is larger. Have you thought about franchising?”
I am not expecting that question. “Um...”
The truth is it never even crossed my mind as an option. “No. I’ve never considered it,” I say.
“Look, I’ll be in Kansas City in a couple of weeks. Would you please just sit with me to talk? If you don’t like what I have to say, no harm, no foul, but I think you’ll be interested in what the Price Group can offer.”
I rub my temple. I didn’t expect to be flipped so quickly, but I have to admit, I am intrigued. “Sure. If you’re already in town, swing by outside of busy hours.”
“You won’t be sorry,” he says before ending the call.