If she were to date again, she’d have to choose someone with less baggage. Was that so much to ask? “Let me think about it.”
Deep down she knew a fresh start meant more than a new career. It meant taking chances again. Calculated chances. Todd might not rock her world, but he wouldn’t blow it up, either. They were true friends with similar interests, and that was as good of a foundation as any for a relationship.
She waved goodbye and then turned to find Alec still standing in the dining room, staring at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” His quiet tone drew her in. It was as if he’d bottled up all that vitality with a heavy-duty cork. Unnerving, really, the way he could turn it off and on so fast.
“If nothing’s wrong, why’d you blow back out here looking like you wanted to kill someone?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Then why are you looking at me with that tight face?” What kinds of screwed-up moods were coursing through him, and when had this become part of his personality? Mark’s illness hadn’t surfaced until his midtwenties. Had Alec also changed dramatically after college, and she’d just never been around him enough to notice?
“Now?” He didn’t blink. “I suppose I’m just surprised.”
“By what?” She stood, rooted to the ground, wondering why he looked almost dejected.
“By the fact you’d go out with him.” His jaw ticked before his gaze skittered away from hers.
What did that mean, and why did it feel like the temperature in the room increased by ten degrees? “Why does that surprise you?”
“Because he’s nothing like Mark,” he replied without any hesitation.
Exactly, she thought, and then swallowed the lump of guilt in her throat from years spent living in the gray area between truth and lies. She stepped closer to Alec—the invisible energy from his body gripping her like a magnetic pull.
“You never liked Mark. And, anyway, just the other night you told me to get back out there.” Her pulse drummed rapidly thanks to this uncomfortable conversation. Did she care what Alec thought, or whether the idea of Todd and her bothered him? “Has something changed?”
Alec rubbed the back of his neck before shoving his hands in his pockets. “No. I want you to be happy.”
As if love secured happiness. Not in her experience—nor her mom’s, for that matter. Maybe Gentry had a point about love and marriage, after all.
In any case, she detected melancholy in Alec’s voice, although she didn’t doubt his sincerity. Her thoughts skipped back to the puzzle on his coffee table. She pictured him sitting alone night after night, working on that instead of being with people. She’d always assumed he’d preferred his solitude, but now she wondered. Could he, like her, be using it as a shield against disappointment and hurt? Had his experiences, like hers, made him wary?
Is that why he bullied the staff?
“I think we should end each day with a staff meeting where we offer some kind of positive feedback.” She braced for his reaction.
“What?” He was looking at her as if her skin had changed color.
“You heard me, Alec.”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly. Maybe if you’re forced to acknowledge the things that are going well every day, you won’t be so quick to blow your top.”
“Why on earth would I pander to my staff, especially with so little time until the opening?”
“You just said you wanted me to be happy. This will make me happy.”
He stared at her, his jaw clenching as time stretched between them. “Fine.”
Before she spoke again, he wandered toward the kitchen.
“Alec?”
“We’ve both got a lot of work to do.” This time he forced a smile. “Let’s stay focused on that for now.”
He held her gaze intently for another moment and then disappeared behind the kitchen doors, leaving her in the middle of the dining room. She spun toward her office, straightening her skirt before returning to her desk.
Resting her fingers on the pulse at the base of her neck, she willed her thoughts and heart to settle. The restaurant—not a man—would be her salvation. She knew this to be true. Yet Alec’s soulful gaze tempted her beyond reason.
“Whoa, that’s a big pour!” Colby held up her hand to her sister-in-law, Sara, with whom she’d immediately bonded the first time Hunter had brought her home from college to meet the family.
“Don’t worry, I’m having more, too.” Sara poured herself an equally large glass of sauvignon blanc. She’d been drinking all through dinner, which meant she still hadn’t gotten pregnant. Twenty-seven months in a row with no luck and one failed round of IVF. No wonder she wanted more booze.