I nodded, accepting his comfort without explaining that recognition was the last thing I wanted. Well, at least now, after I read Derrek’s feature.
He’d inadvertently put things into perspective for me. I wasn’t trying to make national or even statewide news. I needed to stay under the radar, do my thing quietly, inconspicuously and without drawing attention to myself.
Derrek could make the paper all he wanted; I just hoped he wasn’t dating anyone new.
Not for my sake.
But for hers.
****
That afternoon, after I had dropped Dad off and made sure Vann would be by later to check on him, I headed to the truck. I had about ten thousand things to do for the weekend, especially after the chicken and waffle flop. I needed to up my game. I couldn’t have any more train wrecks like that.
I’d learned so much in the few months that I’d been opened, but business could be better. My business management skills could be better. My food could be better. Basically, every single thing could be better.
I hadn’t heard back from any of the bakeries I’d stopped by, and I still hadn’t found a produce vendor I was happy with. So far I’d managed with the closest organic grocery store, but it was gouging my budget. I needed a place with fresh fruits and vegetables without breaking the bank.
All in all, though, I’d learned a ton since I’d opened. Nothing had been smooth or easy or natural, but I was getting the hang of it. Mostly.
I opened the windows and propped the door open. The truck hummed with electricity while the fans whirred to life. I stepped in front of one and tried to cool down.
Vann’s bike shop buzzed with activity around me. Cyclists from all over the city had shown up for a weekly group ride. There was a little Mexican restaurant outside the city where they went to celebrate Taco Tuesday. I’d told Vann I would serve tacos to them, so they didn’t have to go all the way to Mama Bonita, but Vann said that defeated the purpose. Clearly, cyclists were crazy.
Enough of them stopped by to see if I sold power drinks or energy bars though that I seriously contemplated stocking them for the future. I offered them cans of soda, but they looked at me like I had lost my damn mind.
When someone knocked on the door, I assumed it was another one of them. “I don’t have anything made by Gatorade. I’m not even open.”
“No, I, uh, I wasn’t looking for anything. I just saw you were here.”
I spun around. Killian stood in the doorframe. His arms were braced on either side, but he had yet to step inside.
“I thought you were one of them.” I pointed to the human-size bumble bees behind him— because of all the yellow and black spandex. “They want me to whip them up some go bars and energy squeezies.”
He wrinkled his nose, as unimpressed as I had been. “That’s disgusting.”
“My brother is one of them, and I can safely say they don’t know the difference between cardboard and what they keep in their refrigerators. If it’s not tasteless and full of protein, they don’t want it.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything else on the subject. Instead, he seemed to watch me for a minute, thinking something over. When he finally spoke again, he said the very last thing I ever expected him to say. “I’ve never asked, and it’s kind of silly to do so now, but I gotta know, Delane. Do you have a boyfriend?”
My heart stuttered, tripping over uneven beats and panic. Derrek’s article flashed in my head, and I worried that Killian knew. How did he find out I’d dated Derrek? Had he seen the article? Did Killian know Derrek? Did he know what Derrek was really like? Or did Killian respect him like the rest of the industry?
I inhaled slowly and answered as evenly as I could. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I looked down at the knife in my hand and swallowed thickly. I sounded nervous, unsteady. And apparently, Killian thought so too because he just stood there staring at me. His eyebrows squished together over his nose and I could feel the concern bubbling up inside him. I rushed to rescue the conversation and cover my jittery behavior. “Unless you count the truck. Then things are new, but we took out a loan together so I guess I’m stuck with him.” I tried for sarcastic, but my voice sounded brittle and unconvinced. I hiccupped an awkward laugh and then just started spitting out words in an anti-effort to salvage my dignity. “And thank God for that, because I honestly don’t want a boyfriend. The only thing I’m capable of committing to right now is food.” Oh, God. The words just wouldn’t stop. “I mean, clearly I’m a walking disaster. A guy would have to be insane to date me. Or be one of those guys that likes crazy girls. And what does that say about them? Besides how hypocritical is our culture that a girl that’s high drama gets labeled as crazy, but a guy that enjoys high drama is what? Nothing? Applauded for putting up with her? It’s such a double standard.”
Killian stared at me for a minute, not saying anything and not doing anything. I turned back to the counter and put the knife away. Talking about boyfriends made me stabby. I didn’t want to be responsible for what happened to Killian if he pried any further.
Not that he pried.
He just asked a question, and I verbally vomited all over him.
After a long, uncomfortable silence, he said, “Uh, I came over to ask if you wanted to go out with some of us from the restaurant tonight? It’s Wyatt’s birthday.”
Surprised by his offer, I turned around and leaned against the counter. If I was honest, I was surprised that he was still here. He hadn’t fled. He’d witnessed some of my crazy and hadn’t abandoned me. He stood there as calm and patient as always.
Something warm and bubbly burst through me. I crossed my arms, trying to ward off the sensation, but I couldn’t manage to banish it. I tried to convince myself that it was just nice to be included with the staff at Lilou, but even my stubborn heart saw through the lie. It had nothing to do with Wyatt or his birthday and everything to do with the cocky, self-absorbed chef standing in my doorway. “Where are you going?”
Killian inclined his head toward the other side of the plaza. “Probably Verve or Greenlight. It could be cool.”
“Yeah, it could be.”
Half his mouth lifted in a coaxing smile, partly hidden behind his beard. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, Wyatt’s cool. And I should probably get him a gift for all he’s put up with from me anyway. I just don’t know anybody except you and the birthday boy.”
He shrugged, playing cool, but his shoulders were rigid, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, but you do know me. We could hang out. Away from food and our places of employment.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips and avoided his gaze. God, I wanted to say yes. My first instinct was to say yes. To jump at the chance to see what he was like away from a kitchen. To get to know him without the pressure of performing. But Derrek was too fresh in my mind, a dark shadow that lingered in every corner of my new happiness.