Page 5 of Yours Temporarily

He points out the demands of running a business, and I agree, sharing my fears. “I took a chance with the café, using all my book-sales funds. I’ll be thirty in a year, and I wanted something to show for it.”

It’s strange, opening up like this to Jeremy, a man I’ve just met. Perhaps it’s the ease of talking to someone not entwined in my daily life. I find myself leaning in, resting my chin on my hand, spilling fears and hopes I haven’t even shared with Damien or my friends. An unexpected understanding about him makes it easy to share. Plus, I might never see him after tonight, unless I glimpse him when and if he stops at my café after it opens the last week in April. “Being my first time…”

I catch myself rambling. When I quiet down, Jeremy’s head is tilted to one side, his gaze thoughtful and his hands resting on the island top.

“I said too much, didn’t I?” I swipe my curls back from my face, self-conscious.

“Give yourself some credit,” he says, his tone reflective. “You took a big break to find yourself.”

I fiddle with a curl, twisting it tight around my finger. “No one needs more than five years to find themselves.”

“You should be proud. You’ve been doing what you love. You started a blog, shared your recipes with the world, and wrote two books before thirty.” He shrugs. “More than five years in the making, you have something to show for those years too.”

His words ignite a warmth in me, a burgeoning respect for this man who was just a name to me until tonight. As he talks about strategy and business planning, an unexpected connection builds. “If you have any funds, even a hundred dollars, that’s a start.”

“For buying kombucha supplies?” I quip, shaking a finger at him.

“That’s enough kombucha for me.” He places a hand on his chest. “Who cares about anyone else as long as I’m sorted?”

His humor, a delightful surprise, draws me to his intellect and charm. We discuss my financial strategies for the café, and his reminder to focus on essentials resonates. “But I want to do it right.” I still fear embarrassing myself should I fail at running this small lunch café.

“I get that. Doing it right is important.” His lightheartedness eases my worries as he leans in. “Forget the furniture. Let people stand and eat. You’ve got a fridge for our kombucha and a stove. The rest will work out.”

Again, his laughter is infectious, and I join in, feeling a familiar warmth. But the front door bursts open. Damien and the girls return, laden with supplies.

Jeremy rises, his smile vanishes, and his demeanor shifts as he meets my brother. Damien, two years my senior and a shade darker than me, stands tall. I always joke that God shaved off my height and added it to my brother, but Jeremy still overshadows him.

“Kress?” Damien’s frown deepens as he sets two bags of ice on the counter. His gaze moves between us and narrows with the protectiveness he always has when he meets a guy he assumes might like me. “I see you’ve met my sister.”

“She’s great.” Jeremy shoots me a warm glance. “Need help with the groceries or whatever?”

“Er…” Damien blinks, then hesitates. “No.” His frown relaxes while he puts out his hand, and Jeremy winces as he looks at his right hand, then the plate with our forgotten appetizers. Damien gets the message that Jeremy’s hand is greasy and acknowledges it with a nod.

“Welcome, Kress.” Olivia bounces over, her blonde-highlighted ponytail shining under the light.

“Thanks for having me.” He half waves, half salutes her.

Lexi chimes in, introducing herself and reminding him of her new position in marketing as a graphic designer at Stone Financial. “Marino is my boss.”

“Nico.” He smiles, evidently familiar with the man.

The dynamic in the room has shifted, and with it, the urgency to load drinks in the cooler and ice them. I draw in a slow breath to ease the odd constriction in my chest as my time with Jeremy ends.

The party soon fills up, and mild shock contorts some faces as they greet him. But a few women steal admiring glances at him—not that I can blame them. His good looks are hard to ignore, and he apparently has secret admirers at work, even if he keeps to himself. Damien, never one to miss any tunes for a gathering, realizes what I had forgotten and turns on soft music to set the mood. I’m grateful Jeremy arrived before anyone else.

With twenty-eight people, including my roommates and me, the seating is limited. But it doesn’t seem to bother anyone. They’re content to mingle, chatting and laughing in small groups while nibbling my appetizers. Lexi’s photography skills, which have been a blessing for my blog, are on full display as she weaves through the crowd, snapping away.

Jeremy tries to blend in, but he soon finds his way back to his seat at the island. Snippets of his conversation with Damien drift my way while I pull out the southwest wraps I’d kept in the oven at a low temperature. There must be a gap in their relationship if they’re discussing the weather—something about the fog outside. Damien’s definitely holding onto a misconception due to the recent promotions he missed and blames Jeremy for.

After setting the southwest wraps on the dining table next to the chips and dips, I move to the living room for my water. I answer questions as people rave about my food and ask when my café opens.

“In April,” Lexi boasts, snapping pictures as I stand outside of a loose circle. Dressed in white leggings and a black top, she appears casually comfortable. Her short brown hair shines vibrantly under the recessed lighting.

I shift my foot, uncap my water bottle, and sip at it, unsure how to act normal with all the praise.

A woman almost as petite as I am, whose name I can’t remember, brings a tray of bacon-wrapped dates. “You guys have to taste these.”

With everyone’s attention turned to the food, my gaze finds Jeremy as Damien leaves him and joins the guys by the dining table. Their deep laughter rumbles through the room. But Jeremy sits alone, excluded, and my heart squeezes. He’s not the stern boss I expected, and he’s been nothing but warm and engaging with me. Determined to brighten his evening, I return to the kitchen, grab one of the boxes of chocolates he brought, and sit across from him.

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