Big Rock

“It’s quite a hit, from what I read about it. You seem to know what women want.”

I gulp and hazard a glance at my dad. He has on his plastic smile. He doesn’t want Mr. Offerman going down this road. “All I know, sir, is that you need to treat a woman well, and when the time is right to get down on one knee, you should go for more than one carat from Katharine’s.” I give myself props for the jewelry joke.

He smiles and nods, then clears his throat. “I also have a reporter from Metropolis Life and Times magazine that’s following the sale of the jewelry franchise. Bit of a business feature—bit of a lifestyle piece, too. I hope it’s not too much to ask, but I’d love if we can all agree to focus on the stores over the next few weeks during the transition. Not on matchmaking apps or related matters that the press seems to love. Like dating exploits.” He stops to spread his napkin across his lap. “Do you know what I mean?”

We all know what you mean, man.

My father weighs in. “I couldn’t agree more. There’s no need for the article to be about anything else but jewelry.”

“Good.” Mr. Offerman returns his focus to me, and the inquisition isn’t over. “Your new business is going well?”

“The food and beverage industry is a fantastic one to be in. Charlotte and I started The Lucky Spot three years ago, and it’s going great. Fun place, great reviews, customers are happy.”

He peppers me with more questions about the bar, and I can tell it’s all part of his need to vet me in person. To see if my new business seems as “sleazy” as he thinks my last one was. But I can handle men like him. I didn’t start my own company because I was easily intimidated. I started it because I was fucking fearless, and I read the market, just like I can read him. I know how to give him what he wants, and I do so with each answer because giving him what he wants is good for my dad.

“What do you enjoy most about it?”

“Working with Charlotte is great,” I say, because how can I go wrong with that answer? “We were pretty much meant to do this together. We see eye to eye on everything.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s fantastic. How long have you—” His question is cut off when the waiter brings our plates, but I’ve got the gist of it. How long have we been friends…

“Since college,” I answer.

“Wonderful,” he says, as the waiter sets down his eggs benedict. “I hope you can join us tomorrow night for the dinner party, then.”

Oh, so I’ve passed his test. Yay me.

“I’d be thrilled,” I say.

There goes celebrating with Nick. But he’ll understand. I sneak a glance at my dad, who’s looking pleased that this breakfast is going well so far.

Mr. Offerman picks up his fork. “And perhaps you could bring your girlfriend.”

I nearly choke on my orange juice.

My dad starts to correct him, but Mr. Offerman keeps talking, that big baritone leaving no room for interruption. “My wife would love to meet Charlotte. All my girls would, too. We have such a family-centric business, and it’s so important to maintain that during a visible transition time, considering the media interest and all. I love knowing that they’ll see this committed side of you”

I part my lips to correct the misunderstanding. To tell him Charlotte is just a friend. That we’re only business partners.

But his smile right now is like his signature on the deal itself. I make a line of scrimmage decision.

Mr. Offerman already thinks Charlotte is my long-time girlfriend, and that pleases the punch out of him. What if she was more? Go big or go home.

“Actually, Charlotte and I have just been friends since college,” I say, then take a beat to deliver what he wants. “But we started dating a month ago, and we just got engaged last night. I couldn’t be happier to share the news here. She’s my fiancée now.”

Harper drops her fork, my father blinks, and Mr. Offerman lights up. We’re talking Rockefeller Christmas tree style. He’s beside himself with glee over this family environment he just waltzed into. He thought he was getting a playboy, and instead he’s landed a groom-to-be.

“And I would be thrilled to bring my beautiful and brilliant fiancée to your dinner tomorrow,” I add, then flash my dad a big grin before I dig into my scrambled eggs. My sister is staring at me like she’s about to commence a cross-examination. I’m sure she will later. But I have a busy day ahead of me now.

All I have to do is convince Charlotte that this is part of our pact.





CHAPTER FOUR


Standing on the street outside the restaurant, Dad runs his hand through his hair. His brow is furrowed. His expression is flummoxed. He just sent Mr. Offerman off to the Fifth Avenue store in a town car, letting him know he’d join him there soon.

But first he must grill me. Understandably.

“When were you going to tell me?”