And so that was it—not one tick in any of those boxes—and she’d bet anything Jack Brennan was the box-ticking type. He was angry because of her and she’d lost the job. Hurrah. Things just kept getting better.
It was hard. Running her business was hard. Saving her business was harder still. She tried to smile. But none came. Nothing. She didn’t have any left.
In that moment the stress of the day—her life—boiled up inside her, too raw and fresh to hold back. ‘Of course I was concerned about keeping you waiting. My business is my first priority and my clients are everything to me. But really? You have no idea how hard I’m trying and it feels like some days I’m going backwards. The cooking’s fine and a real hit, but I couldn’t help the head injury. And I squeezed you in when I probably should have made an appointment for a different day, but I didn’t want to lose this chance.’
He opened his mouth to speak but she got in first, hearing her voice rising, louder and more high-pitched, but with no way to stop it. ‘I have to do everything now—the ordering, the admin, the delivering. I don’t have time to do the little stuff. But then suddenly I find out that the little stuff is actually quite important. Things like VAT and tax...’
‘Very important, actually. Keeps the world going round. Now, if you’ll excuse me?’ He turned away, his back rigid as he took a step across the gravel.
‘No. Stop. Wait. You probably have no idea how hard it is to prove yourself to people. To have a dream that you want to take a chance on...and you have it there, almost in your grasp. Then someone comes along and snatches it all away. Have you ever had someone steal your dreams, Jack?’
That seemed to have an effect. He stopped abruptly and turned round, taking his time to face her. He studied her for a moment, which made her hot and cold at the same time. Suddenly she felt totally exposed in front of someone who kept his emotions clearly locked away because there was no way she could tell what he was thinking.
Finally, he spoke. ‘Okay. I’m listening.’
‘I just need a chance.’
‘And I just need food.’
Not your life story. I know. ‘I can do food. I can do damn good food.’ She stopped talking then as she realised her voice was actually shaking, and he didn’t need to know all of this. He just wanted someone to do a job for him. And for all she knew he was in cahoots with Nate and Sasha and would go running back and tell them about yet another failed venture from the girl who couldn’t stick at anything.
Something pricked at the back of her eyes. She squeezed them closed. Oh, for goodness’ sake, no tears.
When she opened them again he was still staring at her. Just staring, with a niggly frown dancing across his forehead.
After that outburst he was bound to go, but it felt strangely good to get it off her chest. Even to a grumpy stranger who clearly thought she was mad.
His head cocked to one side as he sat down again and indicated for her to do the same. ‘You can’t hire someone? A bookkeeper? An admin assistant?’
Besides the fact she had no desire to hand over her precious business management to someone else again, she had no cash for even part-time wages. ‘Not unless I can pay them in doughnuts.’
‘I hear they’re considered legal tender in some parts of the world. Or at least they should be.’
He could joke too at a time like this? So maybe he was human after all. Surprising. Nice, actually. A glimpse of another side to him—something softer. Definitely more that she was intrigued by. Dammit.
She raised her glass to him and noted her hand was still trembling. ‘Unfortunately, man cannot live by doughnuts alone.’
‘No, I suppose not. But it would be interesting to try. For a day or two.’ He picked up his glass and his hand brushed against hers. At the contact their eyes met for a beat, two. His gaze roved her face, her mouth, then dipped to her throat. Lower. And heat intensified in all the places he looked at. Unexpected. Inconvenient.
And something simmered there in his gaze too.
She pulled her hand away, reframing her thinking. She needed to get out of here quick sharp. She’d exposed her soul to him and now she was thinking strange thoughts. Was it hot out here? No, she was hot inside. ‘So, take these menus to Lizzie. Show her. Discuss them with her. Tell her I’m more than happy to make other suggestions. I’d love to know what she thinks and to meet her, and the groom. Then, when you’re done showing her, call me and we can talk further.’
‘No.’ He shook his head, his hand reaching out to her wrist, but she stepped back before he reached it. No more skin-on-skin action needed, thank you. ‘I need to have this sorted. I’m away in Reykjavik next week, and after that it’s getting far too close. I need certainties and decisions.’
‘Well, like you, I have no time to waste and I am trying to be fair and honest with you.’ Cassie sighed, projecting a calm that she didn’t feel. ‘She may insist she’s going to do it herself; it may be her lifelong dream to do it—who knows? She’s probably already started prepping and freezing things, then all this talk here with you is a complete waste of time.’
‘Really? You think so?’ He looked at her again and something zipped between them.
Under his searching gaze, Cassie felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. For some reason his intensity slammed up against her resolve and threatened it. Luckily, Frankie arrived with the food. She hoped that would be enough to distract her from Jack Brennan’s dark eyes and even darker voice—although she seriously doubted it.
THREE
So he’d been sucked in by a bleeding heart and a pretty face. Not for the first time and probably not the last.
No. Definitely the last. Jack didn’t usually allow himself to be carried away by a sob story—unless it was for work, in which case it was the soppier the better; soppy made damned good TV. Soppy falling headlong into breakdown turned compelling into a road crash—the ratings always peaked. Great for his career, but out of bounds for his personal life.
But those big wide eyes and the crack in her voice had tugged at something deep inside him. He knew exactly what it was like to have someone steal his dreams. Time and again—and always just as he started believing they might finally come true.
So he’d stopped making dreams, simple as that. He’d clamped down on any kind of wishful hope that he was important enough for anyone to care about. Buried himself in study and work and stayed away from deep and dangerous, too burnt to foster anything more than a flimsy connection that he could break before someone else did.
But Cassie deserved a break. Right? And that was easy enough to do. So why did he feel as if he’d made a huge mistake just sitting here?
She looked a little nervous as she spoke between mouthfuls of the best taco shells he’d ever tasted.
Less hysterical, but nervous. ‘Does your sister know about the car and the photographer?’
He wondered just how much more to tell her and decided to give her the basics. ‘She wasn’t going to have any frills. Friends are taking photos and she asked me to drive her to the venue in my car.
