Page 9 of Tripped By Love
“Or you can call me.” He tapped the business card he’d left behind. “But I’m warning you, if I don’t hear from you by the end of the week, I will be calling the restaurant. Repeatedly. I’ve been told I can be dogged when I see a worthy cause. I can make us both a lot of money, Ms. O’Neil. I promise you that.”
He walked away, and I sat there, dumbfounded. Wheels turning. Heart pounding. A glass shattering brought me back to my senses. I turned to see that Laney had dropped a coffee cup as she watched Brady saunter across the restaurant toward me—a normal reaction from her, and many others, who regularly gawked at my brother whenever he appeared. He practically oozed rock-star charisma as he approached with his shaggy, blond hair styled to perfection, scruff littering his chin, and a muscled body he showed off in torn jeans and a faded ABBA T-shirt. Today, he had a beanie on his head and Chucks on his feet, but he was equally as comfortable in a cowboy hat and boots when he was on tour.
Brady slid into the seat Ralley had vacated.
“Can I get you anything?” Laney asked, voice wobbling as she appeared at his side even though this wasn’t her table. Brady didn’t notice her drool, just like he rarely noticed anyone’s anymore. These days, the only person who drew his eyes was his wife.
“Just a coffee, please,” he said.
Laney nodded, pushed her dark hair behind her ear, and all but skipped away.
“Should I be worried?” he asked, frowning and snapping the leather bands on his wrists like he always did when deep in thought.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re sitting down in the middle of the morning rush. Did you hurt yourself worse than you let on yesterday when you fell?”
I groaned. I wasn’t sure if it was Tristan or Marco who’d told him about my mishap.
“No, Mom,” I said with a little growl. It was one of the ways I got him to back off—taunting him with Mom’s overprotectiveness. I waved the business card at him. “I had to meet with a customer…”
Brady frowned. “Do I need to send Marco or Trevor to deal with it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “No. And what? Is your security team a hit squad now? Would Marco even agree to that?”
“He was military. He knows how to kill.”
“You’re ridiculous. No. This guy…” I slid the card to him. “He wants to buy my recipes. Produce them to sell in grocery stores.”
Brady’s eyes widened. “Really?”
He picked up the card, read it, and then his frown returned.
“Seems fishy.”
“Because my food isn’t good enough to be mass-marketed?” I said, half-tease, half-hurt.
“Cass, you know that’s not what I meant at all. Your food is amazing. No, it’s just weird that some stranger walks in, happens to eat your food, and then says he wants to offer you some kind of deal. What did he ask for upfront? Some kind of down payment?”
“You’re so cynical,” I said. “He didn’t want me to give him anything. He wanted to pay me. And he said it was the third time he’s come back.”
“Did he ask you to sign something?”
“I’m not stupid, Brady. No. He said he wanted to meet with me, my investors, and my lawyers. He asked me to call him, but he said if he didn’t hear from me, he’d call the restaurant.”
Brady looked down at the card, thoughtful. “I’ll have Lee poke around a bit. See what he comes up with.”
Lee was Brady’s business manager, and he’d kept Brady in line since he’d first signed a record deal. He’d been there through all the ups and downs of Brady’s career, including the stalkerand the media storm that had tried to turn his relationship with Tristan into some sort of tragedy. Brady trusted the man with everything in his life, and it was Lee who’d helped Brady and me find a handful of successful restauranteurs to guide us as we’d created the business plan for The Golden Heart Café.
I swallowed hard, wanting so badly to not need my big brother to come in and rescue me again. To save me from getting hurt. But this was what I got for burying my pride and asking Brady to back the restaurant for me to begin with. Now, I had no choice but to continue to let him be a part of it. It was his money and reputation on the line, even more than mine in many ways. If something went wrong with a deal like this, it could splash back on him and his career. Everyone knew he’d invested in The Golden Heart. If we put the brand out there, it would be like putting his stamp of approval on it.
My gut was torn.
Maybe it was too risky. Maybe it was too much to take on. Maybe I needed to stick to my small dreams and the comfortable life I was making for Chevelle and me. We didn’t need anything more. Did we?
