“You had me at Bjorn,” Cassie says dramatically, and we both laugh.
Because, obviously, she’d never be crazy enough to move to Paradise and open a bookstore.
We talk for a few more minutes while I search my pantry for something to eat. By the time we end the call, I still haven’t found anything to satisfy my growling stomach. Not for the first time, I curse Paradise for not having grocery delivery. I hate shopping for food anywhere but online. In LA, I have all my groceries delivered.
In Paradise, I survive on Britta’s and the Garden.
But even after Cassie’s pep talk—or maybe because of it—I don’t want to see Zach in a big crowd without knowing what’s happening between us. I need to talk to him alone before there’s any more off-camera affection.
I’d love for him to come over tonight, but after the day we’ve both had, we’ll both be ready for a good night’s rest long before he’s done at the Garden.
So I send him a text.
A really stupid text, because I don’t know how to tell him why I need to be alone with him. I don’t know how to tell him everything I’m worried about but also that I can’t stop thinking about him and today might be the happiest, scariest day of my life.
Not going to make it tonight but can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Then I drive through Lyle’s for a cheeseburger and fries and eat a mediocre meal, by myself, in front of the TV, which makes the night unsatisfactory on so many levels.
But tomorrow is a new day—and a new start.
Chapter 34
Zach
I’m on dishes for the night, which is gross. I hate scraping food off the plates and putting my hands in greasy water. But the worst part is, I can’t see the dining room from the back of the kitchen the way I can when I’m sous chef. So I find excuses to go to the front of the kitchen and check if Georgia’s come in.
By excuse number one thousand and one, Adam loses his patience.
“Zach!” he yells as a server walks past me with an armful of dirty dishes. “Get back to the sink. We’re already behind!”
“Yes, Chef!” I respond, but I don’t move.
From my position at the kitchen door, I see Britta pick up a menu, but I can’t see who she’s about to show to a seat.
Phil Stein, that’s who. Not Georgia.
“Zach! Let’s go!” Adam yells loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.
Including Darlene Voglmeyer, whose head darts up. Her eyes zero in on me, and her mouth pulls into a smile that screams, Gotcha!
I slowly back into the kitchen, letting the swinging door close behind me. Not that it will stop Darlene, but maybe I’ll be able to get a few dishes done before she springs. In fact, fighting baked-on food and soap scum is suddenly very, very appealing.
As long as it keeps me out of the fight with Darlene that I know is coming. Because even though I remembered to treat the whole crew to Lyle’s average burgers and soggy fries, I forgot to get the permit paperwork done. And it’s been a week now since Darlene and I made our “deal.”
I doubt she’ll actually shut us down. Even if the other council members want to, she won’t let them. Not when I’ve given her something to hold over my head. By not getting the permit, I’ve basically given her the power to ask for anything she wants.
I scrub dishes harder and faster than I ever have while thinking about how I can get Georgia and the show out of the mess I’ve created. Georgia will want to know about the problem. Sheshouldknow about it, and I’m the one who has to tell her.
But the timing couldn’t be worse. We were so close today. The cameras were off, but I didn’t have to hide my feelings. And she didn’t hide hers.
For a few minutes—maybe the best few minutes of my life—Georgia and I were more than friends. I saw in her eyes a reflection of what I feel for her. She wanted to be with me as much as I want to be with her.
I was almost hereverything.
I have to tell her about Darlene, but I’ve got to do it in a way that doesn’t make me look like the idiot I feel like right now.
And I need to do it before she gets here. Otherwise, it’s Darlene who will be breaking the news to her, making me look like a screw-up who was too afraid to tell her what I’d done.