Page 4 of Yours Temporarily

“I like that entrepreneurial spirit.” He nods, and sincerity gleams in those eyes. He takes his time to wipe his hands and doesn’t press for details, instead folding up the towel, which isn’t something we take the time to do around here. “Where should I put this?”

I take it from him, grateful for the distraction. With Damien and my friends out, I’ve gotten this unexpected chance to peel back the layers of Jeremy’s persona, laying the groundwork for future conversations about my brother.

As Jeremy sits back down, I mention the kombucha tea I’ve made. It’s a hit-or-miss beverage, and I doubt it’s his cup of tea. But he surprises me, claiming a love for the fermented drink.

Maybe there’s more to Jeremy than the corporate shell he wears.

“This is good.” He salutes me with the cup after taking a sip. “Will you have this on the menu?”

I stand taller. No reason to squelch a swell of pride. “Maybe on special orders.” It takes extra effort, but his genuine interest sparks a bit of my excitement, especially when he asks about the café’s location.

“In your office building. The former Carol’s Café.” The words blurt out against my earlier reservation to keep the café’s whereabouts a secret. He’ll find out sooner or later anyway. As his immaculate brows rise, I affirm, “I’m the new owner.”

“That’s the best kombucha I’ve ever had.”

I bask in his praise, but unsure how to handle compliments from an attractive man, I need a diversion.

“Come. Let’s check out the snacks.” I lead him to the array of dishes. The kitchen is fragrant with garlic, bacon, and basil among so many other flavors. With the clear wrap over the foil pans, the snacks are visible. I point out the bacon-wrapped dates first. “These have no spice.” I explain before moving to the spicy chicken bites, then the jalapeno poppers, and the two slow cookers radiating warmth in the house. “Chicken and beef for the wraps.”

“I love spicy food.” His eyes light up at the chicken bites. “I don’t get to eat it often.”

Handing him a gold disposable plate, I encourage him to start with the jalapeno poppers, the spiciest appetizer I made. “The chicken is spicy too, actually.”

He takes the serving spoon from a plate between the foil containers, and I open the poppers. Steam rises, and I’m pleased the small candles beneath the foil stands are doing their job to keep the snacks warm.

“I’m going to try one of everything first.”

I laugh. “That’s what taste testing is for.”

When we return to the marble island, I sit across from him about to suggest saying grace. However, he’s already diving in, pure enjoyment lighting his face.

“What did you call this with jalapenos?” he asks between bites, blowing out his tongue more so from the still-hot food.

“Jalapeno poppers.” Amused by his enthusiasm, I hand him a napkin from the stack on the island, and he wipes his mouth with it.

“I can’t believe I’m just meeting Damien’s chef sister today.”

“I’ve only been here four months.” Not that he needs an explanation, but Mama always taught us to speak in full sentences, so that’s how I roll. “I’d ventured out to Florida. Then my roommate got a job with your company, and it felt like the right time to move back.” I mention my friend Lexi, Stone Financial Enterprises’ new graphic designer, and Olivia, who works with Damien.

“I know Olivia. She and Damien have a good working relationship. They’re the top analysts on my team.”

Wow. What a genuine compliment. Too bad, I couldn’t record that for Damien because it doesn’t seem like Jeremy ever compliments him.

“It helps that they’re best friends and all live here.” I wiggle on my stool. “Often Damien and my friends discuss work and make me feel like the odd one out.”

He winks. “I’m sure you could distract them from work with your cooking.”

I shrug. “We cook dinner together.” I tell him about our playful food wars in the kitchen, and his infectious laughter resonates deep and warm.

As the hour progresses, I find myself refilling his tea and getting more appetizers. He’s curious about my current occupation, and I’m almost embarrassed to declare “food blogger” as a career. “I’ve never had a ‘real’ career.” I rock my stool side to side. “I’ve published a couple of cookbooks, though.” I’ve always feared being a chef in a real gourmet kitchen and having a boss with rules, but I’ve never felt this odd need to defend my passion. Maybe because he’s so successful and pushes Damien so hard. He’s gotta be looking down on me now, right? “I kind of like to do my own thing, but it’s time for me to give back to the organization that funded my culinary school. It would be hard to do if I’m working for someone else.”

“What organization?” His gaze narrows, and the full force of his attention makes me squirm, despite the sincerity brimming in his blue eyes.

“I still volunteer at Crina Medical once a week and help with their monthly mental-patient dinner program. Patients with mental challenges meet to cook, eat, and share their stories in a supportive environment.” It was then that my passion for cooking came to life. “I was amazed by how they opened up and fostered connections as we cooked and dined together. I started volunteering after high school, and one of the founders told me they had scholarship programs I could apply for. Little did I know it was a full ride.”

But I plan to give back to the organization. “If my café pans out, I’ll use the space and my talent to host that program and perhaps give financially too. For now, I can only give back in time, and I try to do that as much as I can.”

“I like that you’re passionate about giving back.” A thoughtful nod dips his chin. “But don’t underestimate the real commitment you’ll have to run a café.”

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