Sitting behind a desk for sixteen hours a day is not my passion.
Going before a judge is definitely not my passion.
Cooking…now that’s where it’s at. That’s where I’m happiest.
Knowing that, I quit Harvard, at the risk of giving every member of my family a heart attack. Up until then I’d been the good girl, the one to go along without complaining. One day I woke up and realized just how depressed I was with the direction of my life. We only get one shot at this, so I traded the pens, pencils, and briefcase in for a barely working food truck in need of repairs. While it’s hard work, everything about it fills my soul with happiness.
My food is a huge success in the neighborhood, but with zero collateral, the banks turned down my loan application. Not only is the truck held together by duct tape and a prayer, I want to rent space to start a restaurant that isn’t on wheels.
My trust fund is on hold until I can prove to my father that I’m a grown up making grown up decisions. In my father’s eyes, I guess the pink hair, tattoos, and piercings shout rebellion, not stability. I just want to be myself though, live my life on my own terms, and I honestly do not want to take a single dime from him, but this restaurant is important to me, and not just because it’s my dream.
I want to make a difference in our community by giving back and helping the folks who have less. My restaurant will be about using locally sourced ingredients, and making special meals to help the homeless. I do that with my truck now, we also have a pay-it-forward program and I’ve been serving up tacos to the homeless for the past few months. I’m definitely in my happy place.
Speaking of happy places. My gaze slides to Cason’s and our eyes lock. He took me to a place last night that I never knew existed, and dammit, I want to go there again.
“Are we all ready?” Jules asks as she slides her arm into her fiancé’s.
I groan and Cason angles his head, his eyes still latched on me. “You okay?”
“I don’t like heights,” I say as I stand.
“You don’t have to go.”
He hovers over me, all raw strength, muscle, and assurance. “Yeah, I do. Jules wants this, and we go way back. I’d do anything for her.”
“I can understand that,” he says. “Cole is my best friend, and I’d do anything for him. I even let him marry my sister,” he says with a laugh.
I grin, imagining how that must have gone down. “Also, I promised myself I’d be open to new things when I was here.”
His brow raises, and my cheeks heat, knowing exactly where his thoughts have gone. Hell, mine have, too. As everyone heads outdoors to climb into the party bus, Cason leans into me and puts his mouth near my ear. “Yo
u were pretty open to things last night.”
“Cason,” I say and elbow him. He lets loose a loud oomph. “I don’t want the others to hear and get the wrong idea…or the right idea…or any idea.”
The corners of his mouth turn up in a grin so naughty I almost turn into a puck bunny and hand over my panties. Oh, how I’m going to do that later.
“I can be your dirty little secret if that’s what you want,” he murmurs.
“I—”
“Come on you two,” Lindsay, Jules’s best friend says. “You don’t want us to leave without you.”
“Oh yes, I do,” I say under my breath and Cason gives my hands a squeeze.
“You got this. It’ll be fun.”
While I like his faith in me, I’m not sure I’ve got anything. I’ve been under such a tremendous amount of stress trying to keep my food truck in one piece, and doing a financial business plan for my restaurant, I’ve forgotten what fun was. I told myself I was going to forget about real life for the weekend, and just let go.
Thirty minutes later, after a champagne filled bus ride, I’m standing inside the observation deck, a floor to ceiling sheet of glass separating me from the outside deck. Many members of the wedding party chose to do one of the rides but the thoughts of catapulting over the edge of the tower to dangle weightlessly in the air—no thank you.
“You didn’t have to stay with me. I’m a big girl,” I say to Cason as he comes up behind me. He’s so close I can smell his scent. It washes over me, and every inch of my body, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, tingle in awareness. I hug myself to stave off a full body quiver.
“Maybe I wanted to stay behind.” I’m about to protest when he says, “Let’s go stand outside.”
My legs quiver a bit harder. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“I actually think you’ll like it if you give it a try.”