Page 65 of Geordie

“Your partner is out of my league. She’d break my heart and wear it around her belt as a trophy, like she does everyone else.”

“Maybe you could convince her to be your surrogate?” she asks, poking me in the ribs.

I step away from the third jab. “How is that going to work having a pregnant partner on the beach volleyball circuit?”

She giggles, slipping her arm around mine. “Shit, that would be a sight, but I see your point.”

I pick up her bag and we head toward the lot. “My truck is just over here.” The lights of a Range Rover flash on. “You’ll have to drive, lass,” I say, opening the passenger door.

She opens the back seat to stow her bag. “I know you might have cleaned up a bit to see me, but the bloodshot eyes are a dead giveaway. It’s clear you’ve been spending time with fine MacTavish whiskey.” She says the last part, mimicking Lochlan’s working man’s brogue that he used to charm the customers in the tasting room. She slides into the driver’s side.

“Is Lochlan joining us?”

She pushes the button to start the engine, then throws it into reverse to back out. “He has meetings at Catriona tonight. He said he’d meet us if he finishes early, but I doubt it. Looks like it’s you and me, like the old days when you tried to convince me Lochlan was a good guy, only this time I plan to return the favor and help you with this surrogate problem. I love Lochlan, but it’s difficult to offer solutions if your worldview is rigid.”

Chapter thirty-one

Chain Reaction

Lily

Metalclangingandmurmursfrom the crew working in close quarters is the melody of food prep in full swing. Neither Harv nor myself are in the kitchen taking part in tonight's ritual yet.

Harv is in my office sitting across from me, eyebrows forming a deep V, like a bruised bull with arms folded. “I don't get this. Are you trying to throw our chances away to secure a spot in Catriona on purpose? And why are you telling me this now, when we have the Catriona committee in the restaurant on Sunday for a private evaluation?”

I pick at the corner of a stack of napkins left on my desk for something to occupy my hands. Admitting I screwed up again to Harv isn't pleasant. “I'm telling you this because you're my partner and you need to know.”

He drops his hands to the tops of his knees, face thrust forward. “I don't understand why you had a bizarre reaction. Geordie only asked if you would consider him as a sperm donor. He wasn't proposing to hook up, or did I get it wrong?”

“His proposal was unexpected, and when did you start using the term hook up?” I’m shifting in my seat under his disapproving gaze. “I had no idea he was thinking about asking to be the father of my child.”

“You're both trying to be parents. He's an heir to the MacTavish Distillery fortune. The guy would probably buy you a drafty castle if you asked. When did all this happen?”

I bite my lip, embarrassed that it's taken me this long to work up the courage to tell Harv what happened. “I saw him three days ago.”

“You still have a few days to make this right. Call him up or find him, then apologize for your behavior.” He rakes his fingers through his gray hair. “I've never known you to act like this with anyone.” He exhales a breath, expelling some of his anger. “Look, Lily, it took Geordie a lot to set aside his ego and ask you to consider him. He's probably as desperate as you are to have a child. He sees this beautiful, accomplished woman who's ready to have a baby. What man wouldn't want you to be the mother of his children? All I'm saying is you've got to fix this so that you're still friends; we have too much riding on this. I've all but promised Tony he's being promoted to sous chef.”

“It's too late for that. If I had called him later that evening, it might've been okay. Three days later looks a bit suspect.”

He scrambles to his feet. It would be easier if he’d just yell his frustration, but instead he points his finger at me. “Lily, we're in business. You can't afford to offend people, especially when it's the MacTavish family.”

I fold the napkin I've been holding in half, then place it on the side of the desk. “I'll think about it. Geordie promised he would recuse himself. I'm sure he hasn't changed his mind.”

“Sure, he can recuse himself all he wants. All he has to do is tell his cousin Lochlan that he doesn't think we should get a spot in their restaurant row and Lochlan will nix our chances.”

I slump in my chair from the weight of my behavior; I should have thought before I walked out on Geordie. This is the second time I've offended him. How do you apologize to someone who wants to be your sperm donor? I don't think a delivery of cookies will smooth this over. I offer the only encouragement I can. “He's done nothing so far to hurt our chances. He's not the type to go back on his word.”

There's light knocking at the door. “Come,” I say.

Harv stands as the maître d' pops his head in, lips tight in a disturbing grimace. “Chef, I have a customer who would like to speak with you.”

“Is it a complaint about the food?” I check the time. “We're not open yet; how did this person get in?”

He enters, spine straight, adjusting the lapels of his impeccable black coat. “The new hostess opened the door to her, thinking she was important. The woman says she knows you and would like a word. She's polite, but insistent. I think we might have served her last night.”

I sigh. Now is not the time to talk with an irate customer on top of soothing the ego of an irate sous chef. “Does this woman have a name?”

“She says her name is Kenzie McGregor. She claims to be a friend of Lochlan and Geordie MacTavish.”

---