Page 39 of Steel Beauty

Charleston’s heels click softly against the pavement as she steps out, smoothing her outfit. “A close friend who is a chef and happens to own a restaurant? Lucky you.”

“Lucky indeed. She’s an incredible chef. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

Chloe wouldn’t have had to work a day in her life if she’d chosen not to. Being a McLachlan comes with privileges, but it was her choice to work. She built this place from the ground up, pouring herself into every detail and earning every bit of her success on her own. Every plate served, every seat filled—it’s all her success built with her own determination.

The service door swings open as we approach, and there she is––all smiles while wearing her crisp white chef’s jacket. Her bright blue eyes light up when she spots us.

“Right on time,” she beams, pulling me into a quick, familiar hug.

I return the hug with a squeeze. “You’re a lifesaver, as always.”

When she steps back, her gaze shifts to Charleston, her friendly smile tinged with curiosity.

I gesture toward the woman by my side, feeling an awkwardness settle over me as I search for the right words. “Chloe, this is… uh.” I falter, my usual confidence momentarily escaping me. “This is my friend Charleston. Well, that’s what I call her—because that’s where she’s from.”

Chloe arches a brow, her words playful and carrying a hint of teasing. “Please tell me you aren’t up to some of that weird shit like Jack used to do.”

I chuckle, amused. “It might be something like that.”

Chloe’s lips twitch, amusement crossing her face as she holds back a full grin. Tilting her head slightly, her smile never falters. “Nice to meet you. Should I call you Charleston, too?”

Charleston nods, the corners of her lips curving enough to hint at a smile. “Sure, that works.”

Chloe’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she glances at me. “Charleston it is then.”

Chloe guides us through the kitchen, weaving past bustling chefs and simmering pots, the air heavy with the mouthwatering aroma of garlic, fresh herbs, and roasting vegetables. Beside me, Charleston takes it all in, her gaze drifting with quiet interest over the organized chaos as we make our way toward the private room tucked at the back of the restaurant.

When we step inside, Chloe gestures toward the intimate setup—soft, dim lighting, candles flickering gently on a small table for two, and a window offering a breathtaking view of the harbor. The room is quiet, a world away from the clatter of the kitchen and the hum of the dining room—exactly the atmosphere I’d hoped for.

“Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about?”

Charleston shakes her head with an easy smile. “I don’t.”

“Perfect.” Chloe’s grin widens, her enthusiasm shining through. “Tonight’s menu is completely farm-to-table. I sourced everything locally—some of it straight from the markets this morning.” She ticks off the dishes with effortless precision: “Grilled lamb with rosemary, caramelized baby carrots, fingerling potatoes, and a beet and goat cheese salad to start. For dessert, a lemon tart with fresh berries. And to pair with the lamb, I’d suggest a bottle of Jack’s shiraz—bold, peppery, and just right for the flavors. How does that sound?”

I glance at Charleston, her eyes lighting up and her smile widening. “That sounds incredible.”

“Wonderful. I’ll send Frederick in to take care of you. Whatever you need, just ask. I’ll be in the kitchen making sure everything is perfect.”

Chloe gives me a quick, playful wink before slipping out, the door clicking shut behind her.

“Thank you for bringing me here. This is such a lovely surprise.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The private dining room feels like a secret tucked away from the world, a perfect retreat for a night like this. Charleston glances around, her gaze sweeping over the intimate space. “This is beautiful.”

I nod, a small smile forming. “Chloe has a special talent for ambience, kind of like someone else I happen to know.”

A mix of amusement and curiosity cuts through her expression. “Is that so?”

Her fingers trail lightly over the edge of the tablecloth as her gaze sweeps the room again, her professional eye clearly at work. “Well-chosen elements. The textures—velvet against dark wood—are inviting and harmonious. And the low lighting creates intimacy without feeling oppressive. It’s perfectly balanced.”

She looks at me, and her eyes are alight with that spark of passion I noticed earlier. “This space works because it’s designed to make people feel connected and comfortable.”

I watch her as she speaks, her words flowing with confidence, the language of her world. “You really love what you do, don’t you?”

Her gaze shifts to mine, and for a moment, her expression softens—unguarded and open. “I really do.”

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