“And how do you feel about me?”
The corner of her mouth ticks up slightly in amusement, but she shakes her head. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“More than anything,” I mumble under my breath, but there’s no mistaking that she heard me.
“Well, I’m not my brother, and I can make my own opinions about people all on my own.” She smiles. “Even if said person steals our Valentine’s event idea from us.”
I can’t hold back the grin that spreads across my face.
“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed the idea and made a few alterations to make it better. Besides,” I say, pointing down to the bags at her feet. “Those Valentine’s decorations look a lot like the ones I had delivered today.”
She looks down at the bags and then back up at me. “I simply borrowed the idea but made a few alterations to make them better.”
“Great minds.” I laugh.
She’s quiet for a moment before she finally says, “And to answer from before, this may be our first date, but I don’t think it will be our last.”
I have to fight the urge to jump up from my seat and kiss her. This meet-up had the recipe to be another terrible, horrible, no good, very bad blind date, but somehow, it’s turned into something that could actually be something more.
We spend the rest of the afternoon drinking coffee and getting to know one another. I told her about my time working on Wall Street and how I hated every minute of it, but it was all worth it in the end because it gave me the opportunity to open the bar and live out my dream.
Juliette tells me about her time working as a reporter. She started out interested in investigative journalism, but as she worked her way up the newspaper ladder, she found that the human-interest pieces she was assigned as “fluff pieces” really did make her happy. The daily grind of deadline after deadline was hard enough to keep up with but writing about stories that didn’t end with her tracking down cops and attorneys for comments made her feel more at peace.
“But just as I was gaining my stride, they let me go,” she says.
“Assholes,” I mumble.
Juliette laughs. “That’s a kinder word for them than I used, but it had the same sentiment.”
“Have you given much thought to what you want to do now?” I ask.
“I’d love to find another paper to write for, but there just aren’t a lot of jobs out there.”
“Is there anything else that interests you to write about?”
She’s thoughtful for a moment like she’s not sure she wants to tell me what she’s thinking. I wait, studying every line and curve of her beautiful face, from her eyes down to her lips. My heart thumps in my chest with anticipation at the thought of finally getting to kiss those lips.
“I’ve been playing around with the idea of writing a book about the history of our part of the city. My family owning the bar for generations and how the city evolved around it.”
“I love that idea,” I say.
Juliette’s eyes meet mine with what looks like surprise. I’m not sure why she would even be questioning my support in this venture. This would perfectly allow her to use her love of investigating and writing all in one.
“Is this what you want to do?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Then there is your answer.”
“Ben says that it’s not a practical use of my writing. What if no one wants to buy it.”
“Following your dreams is hardly ever the practical road to take.” I point to that. “My family and friends thought I was crazy to quick my job and open a bar. Only my cousin Maddie believed in me.”
“You’re lucky to have that support.”
I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “Then let me be that person for you. Following your dreams can sometimes take you to surprising places. I’m quickly realizing that fact today.”
5