Page 35 of It Happened Duo

“Thanks. I’ll miss this place, and I’ll give proper notice to your management company.”

I’d be sad to lose him as my long-time tenant. His hair had whitened over the years, but he appeared virile at his old age. I wished him well.

“How’s the Morning City Show?”

He’d produced the city’s number one morning TV program for years and won a few daytime Emmy’s that he showed off in a glass curio cabinet on display in his entryway.

“Terrible. The boss said last minute he wants us to add cooking segments leading into Thanksgiving and Christmas, featuring comfort food, hoping to earn some ratings back. It’s a pain in my neck that I didn’t need this close to retirement. I already interviewed a dozen chefs and none of themwere what I was looking for. I’m running out of time as the segments are supposed to start next week.”

“What kind of chef?”

“Any kind, at this point. The segments take planning and preparation, and it needs to happen now.” He appeared disheartened as he swallowed down half the drink, and suddenly, I knew who he should interview.

“Say, I know someone who would be perfect for the show. Chelsea Calhoun.”

“Never heard of her. Where does she chef at?”

“First, let me show you this.” I pulled up Chelsea’s social media profile for Sun-Up Deli and played the video she did for peach pie.

“Look at her.” Stanley practically tore the phone from my hands. “She’s bright, happy, plays to the camera well. Perfect for the Morning Show. But can she really cook?”

“I wouldn’t recommend her to you if she couldn’t. Trust me, Stan, she’s the woman for the job. You’d be foolish to not talk to her.” I glanced at the time; she’d be here any minute, and I didn’t want my evening plans disrupted by him. “Stop by Sun-Up Deli in the Buchanan building on Monday and speak to her yourself.”

“Okay, I just might. Hey, thanks for this.” He emptied his glass, handed it to me, and I set it in the sink on the way with him to the door. “Catch you soon.”

“Oh, Stanley? If possible, don’t mention that I referred her or we talked. If you like her, hire her on her own merits. Really, she deserves an opportunity like this.”

“Sure thing. Talk soon.”

How amazing it would be for Chelsea? And it could fit well into my plans. If she earned a regular spot on the show, and opened her eyes to more that she could do with her talents, maybe she’d let go of the deli. Hell, I could see it now, an entire brand built around Chelsea with cooking shows, cookbooks, online sales. I’d be happy to find her an agent and hire a PR firm and an expert consultant on these things. Anything to help her be the best in the business. I mean, if we were going to be husband and wife, why wouldn’t I support her in her endeavors any way I could?

My mind raced with this turn of events until the knock came at the door. I’d keep this under wraps and hope Stanley reached out to her. Right now, I had a woman to convince to marry me.

I opened the door, and as always, the sight of her jump-started my heart. “Hello, sweetness. Come here.”

She yelped as I picked her up and carried her through. Might as well get into practice now for carrying her over the threshold. Jeez. Who had I become, thinking about all this marriage stuff? If someone had told me a year ago that I would think of getting married, I would have laughed my ass off.

In her presence now, all my worries washed away seeing the bold smile split her face. Yeah, something about this felt right. I was definitely getting everything I wanted tonight. I set her down, and she removed her coat. Not wasting time in asserting myself, I claimed her lips.

She moaned and lifted her leg on me as I planted kisses across her bare collar bone thanks to a knockoutred off-the-shoulder sweater she wore. “Should we skip dinner and get right to dessert?” She asked.

“Tempting, but no. I have plans for us tonight.” I reluctantly put a pause on the kisses and took her coat and bag and hung them up. “Come with me.”

She took my hand and laughed, but stopped when something caught her eye. “Hold up. What’s this? Is that—the Eiffel Tower painting from the auction last night?”

The oversized oil painting was back in my home, thankfully one of few pieces not wrecked by the melee at the Zombie Ball. “Yes. It’s mine, but I donated it to the auction. Now it’s back.”

“It’s beautiful. One of my favorite things they had there.”

“Really? It’s yours. A gift from me.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? Just like that? You’re giving me a painting? I can’t take that.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, I have nowhere to hang it. I live on a couch right now.”

“That won’t always be the case. I’ll, um, hold on to it for you until you’re ready.”

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