“Busy,” Colby said. “Actually, I’ve been doing some reading on restaurant promos to generate ideas to support a strong opening. I’m thinking about trying a ‘Hump Day Happy Hour’ on Wednesdays to draw customers.”
Alec coughed up his drink. “A CertainTea isn’t Hooters.”
Her cheeks colored. “We have a beautiful bar. Why not use it to our advantage?”
“The food will draw people in.” Alec rubbed his hand over his chest to loosen the band of stress constricting his lungs. Hump Day Happy Hour?
“People like to be social, Alec, especially over cheap drinks.”
Alec leaned forward, hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt. “I choke out praise to the staff every day for your sake, but listen to me on this. ‘Hump Day Happy Hour’ is not the tone to set. If you insist on using alcohol to create interest, at least go upscale and do wine pairings.”
“I agree with Alec,” Hunter interjected.
Thank God!
“Shocking.” Colby rolled her eyes at her brother. “Luckily, I just signed those papers tonight, so you don’t get a vote.”
“Not officially, but I hope you still consider my opinion.” Hunter cocked a brow in challenge.
Alec didn’t want Colby to assert herself on this issue just to prove she didn’t have to answer to the men in her life.
“Colby, you won’t need gimmicks at A CertainTea.” He kept his voice calm despite the panic rising as he imagined loudmouths at the bar while his customers were trying to enjoy Kingfish–Osetra Caviar Tartare with Smoked Crème Fra?che Emulsion. “Please, save the happy-hour plan as a fallback if the restaurant falters, which it won’t.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment while Colby stared at a spot in the distance.
“I should head home.” Colby stood suddenly and straightened her dress.
Hunter rose to give her a quick hug. “Don’t be mad. We’re only trying to be helpful.”
“I know,” she conceded and then hugged Sara goodbye. “Dinner was delicious, thanks.”
“I’ll go, too.” Alec bolted from his chair without knowing exactly why, or what, he hoped to gain by following Colby to her car. He only knew he had to do it.
“Oh?” Sara’s brows rose.
“You two will enjoy the rest of your night better without a third wheel.” Alec gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“You got that right.” Hunter grinned, tugging Sara against his side.
A flood of envy rippled through Alec. He’d had women—even hot ones like Colette—but he’d never experienced love. Except for the unrequited kind, he thought dimly. “Good night.”
He and Colby silently strolled through the house and to the driveway until they reached her car. As much as he had to convince her to drop this happy-hour nonsense, he was just as interested in what prompted that no-dating rule.
“I don’t like being lectured about what to do in my restaurant, Alec.” She sounded tired.
“I’m sorry, but I’m passionate about this.” He’d promised his goals wouldn’t conflict with hers, but this was too important. “You told me you want your customers to relax and be happy. How relaxed and happy will they be with a buzzed, disruptive crowd guzzling cheap drinks at the bar?”
“How limiting is it if the only people who come are foodie snobs?”
She had it all wrong, but he didn’t say that. “Restaurateurs generally like people who appreciate quality food. And locally sourced, organic, artisanal cuisine is hot now.”
“I agreed to let you handle the menu, but A CertainTea isn’t Une Bouchée 2.0.”
“Why not mimic a place that won Best New Restaurant the year I opened it?” My God, did that even need to be asked?
“It was excellent, but it isn’t what I’d planned. I want A CertainTea to have broad appeal and be a venue for parties and weddings and whatnot for ordinary people. Believe it or not, ordinary people like me don’t give a fig about amuse-bouches.”
Alec’s focus snagged on the sexy pout her lips formed when pronouncing the “sh” end sound of “bouches,” so it took him an extra second to reply. “If your primary goal was to be involved in planning parties, then maybe you should’ve started an event-planning service instead of a restaurant.”
She glared at him, making him regret that last quip. Now she might institute the happy hours out of spite.
“Have a good night, Alec.” Colby fished her keys out of her purse.
He’d already stepped in it, so he might as well ask the other question that had been bugging him for the past twenty minutes. “Did you make that no-dating rule because you don’t think I’m good enough for Gentry?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”
“Honestly?”
“I promise.” She hugged her purse. “Why would you think that?”
“I know your whole family thinks Gentry needs some direction, so I would’ve thought her interest in me would be welcomed, given that I’m older and certainly more stable than her current boyfriend.”
Colby nibbled at the corner of her lower lip. “Are you interested in Gentry?”
“No.” Only you. It seemed impossible that she couldn’t feel the depth of his longing.
She huffed. “Then why are we even talking about this?”
“Because I get the feeling you don’t trust me anymore. With few exceptions, you’re edgy around me lately.”
She sighed. “I think we both know why.”
“I don’t.”
“Well . . .” Her voice trailed off before she finished her thought.
“Well, what?” His demand made her flinch. Carefree Colby no longer existed. Now all she did was jump and recoil, or lash out defensively. All changes caused by her witnessing Mark’s suicide. If possible, he loathed himself even more for the way he dismissed Mark’s note. Two men dead, one woman splintered, all unwittingly because of him.
“Your temper . . . it’s not like the friend I remember. You were never so ruthless.” She looked at him now, her luminescent eyes seeking reassurance that the old Alec still existed.
That stopped him. He was harder. And given his secrets, he couldn’t reassure her. She shouldn’t trust him. Why the hell was he pressuring her when he couldn’t be honest? Did he want to lose his job? His one path to some kind of redemption?
“You’re right. I have changed, and you should keep your distance.” He turned before she could grab hold of his arm. Without glancing back, he waved over his shoulder. “Drive safely.”
Chapter Seven
“Welcome to A CertainTea.” Colby shook hands with Melissa Westcott, an ambitious young reporter from Portland’s largest newspaper to whom Gentry had reached out as part of her PR strategy. “I’m thrilled you’re writing a feature piece on us.”