Having It All

by Christi Barth

  They’d cleared the air, sure. They had not, however, put their fresh resolve about treating each other as more than friends to the test yet. Annabeth saw no point in waiting. No point easing into this new, 2.0 version of them. Either it’d work or it wouldn’t. If it didn’t, she’d have one less present to worry about buying.

  She really, really hoped it’d work.

  Squeezing his hand, she asked, “Can I say something?”

  “Of course.”

  Her index finger popped up to bisect his lips. “No, not ‘of course.’ I tried to say something, ah, contrary, on our skating date, and you shut me down. Which works if we’re just friends. Dating means we need to ask hard questions, poke at sore spots. It means sharing real answers, not curt dismissals. It’ll work both ways, I promise.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  Annabeth didn’t want a fight. She just wanted an answer, an explanation. “You can get through to these kids. Give them a career, a leg up. It seems selfish not to do the big expansion of your food trucks. That’s not an accusation. Just an observation. Another observation is that you’re one of the least selfish people I’ve ever met. So where’s the disconnect? Why won’t you do this?”

  Josh drew her over to a low, curving brick wall. Once they were both seated, he craned his neck back to look up at the ornate gables of the Old Executive Office Building. “See that building?”

  “The one bursting with White House staffers?” Cupping a hand around her mouth, Annabeth stage-whispered, “Don’t stare at it too long or the Secret Service might come hassle you.”

  “Nah. They love my truck.”

  “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “Everybody who tries it, yeah.” And tightness pulled at the corners of his mouth. Then Josh pointed at the OEOB. “By the time I was eight, I’d been in there more times with my parents than I’d been to the zoo.” His arm dropped back to his side. “By the time I was twelve, my parents didn’t take me anywhere with them at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “I embarrassed them. I was a millstone—a stupid one—weighing down the family name.”

  Suddenly, Annabeth regretted asking her question. Because opening up old wounds that were obviously not well scabbed over wouldn’t be pleasant. Her intent was never to hurt Josh—just to understand him. She bit her lip. It was too late to innocently try to change the subject.

  “Because of your dyslexia?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Before it was diagnosed, they assumed I was dumb. Useless, too, since it was obvious there was no way I’d go into the family business. Lobbyists have to be quick, wily, tenacious. Oh, and smart. Great at expressing opinions thoughtfully. Being the class clown didn’t set me up for a seat at the Hardwick conference table.”

  Annabeth cuddled closer, resting the side of her head on his shoulder. Maybe it’d be easier for him to get out without making eye contact. Just maybe, it’d be easier for him to get out with sympathetic, caring contact. “What happened after you were diagnosed?”

  “They were still embarrassed. They did add in a generous helping of coddling. I’ll never forget the day my dad told the housekeeper not to put the sports page at my place at the breakfast table. Said The Post was too much of a paper for me to handle. Even for reading box scores.”

  There was a part of her that wanted to head right over to K Street where all the lobbyists lurked and bang through building after building until she found his parents’ company. Then she’d slap them both. Hard. Right across the face, so they’d feel as much shame as pain.

  The mature, well-informed part of her knew that plenty of people simply weren’t equipped to handle the needs of a child who wasn’t easy or picture-perfect. That they probably loved Josh, in their own way, but didn’t know how to begin to accept him as being even slightly different.

  There were times Annabeth really hated being a mature adult.

  Slowly caressing his thick, muscled thigh, she asked, “What did you do?”

  “I got the message. Loud and clear. They didn’t think I was good enough.” Josh didn’t sound bitter, or resigned. No, he might as well have been listing the ingredients in a snickerdoodle. “I got it even louder when I graduated from high school. They told me there was a board position with my name on it. I could collect the paycheck as long as I promised not to show up. Didn’t want to risk me saying anything stupid.”

  Every time Josh said the word stupid—in reference to himself—it made Annabeth cringe. “Now I see why you didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with them.”

  “We’re polite enough. Mom and Dad think they’re protecting me from the world. Come on, though.” Josh spread his big hands wide, palms up, before letting them drop to his knees. “The bottom line is they think I’m not good enough. Why wouldn’t I believe them?”

  That horribly, abysmally wrong statement popped Annabeth’s head off his shoulder like a jack-in-the-box. “Because you know better. You know yourself, you know your capabilities, your strengths.”

  “I do.”

  She barreled right on in his defense. It all had to be said. Out loud. Repeatedly. Josh couldn’t be allowed to think poorly of himself. “Because your smart, successful friends wouldn’t waste their time if you weren’t just as smart and successful in your own way. Being able to afford a private jet ride to vacation in Monaco isn’t the only measure of success.”

  “I know.”

  “You…” Annabeth circled her hands at her stomach, trying to find the best words. “You fill people up. Not just literally, but with comfort food. You’re actually filling their souls. Providing happiness in their days. That’s on top of the lives you’ve touched, helped form, with the kids you train.”

  Shaking his head a little, a smile tugging that kissable mouth up and out of that horrible flat line, Josh said, “Annabeth—”

  Nope. She wasn’t done.

  “And guess what? The class clown? He grew up into a funny man who can put a smile on anyone’s face. A man with a magic touch at dispersing tension, diffusing fights and sticky situations. A man who can disarm anyone, from a nervous teen to a puffed-up politician. That’s a gift that money can’t buy or replicate.”

  “Thank you.” Josh palmed her cheeks. Then he kissed her. Hard. With the passion that always flared between them, but also with gratitude. “I’m touched you think that, that you see all of that in me.”

  “Well, we’ve established that I’ve been, um, seeing you, noticing you, for quite some time now. I’m glad I finally have a reason to share everything I see in you. All the reasons that I do want to spend time with you. You’re amazing, Josh.”

  “Woman, you have to stop,” he groaned. “All these compliments are giving me a big head. And I don’t mean the one between my shoulders. Remember, I have to go back to making sandwiches in two minutes. You’re making me want to pick you up to run all the way back to the rectory and lock us in my bedroom.”

  With great exaggeration, Annabeth scooted several inches away on the wall. Stuffed her hands back in her parka’s pockets. “I’m just saying that you’re good enough. More than good enough.”

  “For lots of things, sure. Not for everything. Not good enough to work on K Street. I’m sure as hell not going to touch money that I don’t earn. Money that’s put into an account for me because they still don’t think that, at twenty-eight, I can support myself.”

  Wait, what? “Don’t they know about the Capitol Grilled?”

  “My ‘folly’? My ‘hobby’? Yeah. Hardwicks don’t work with their hands. Any job that doesn’t rely purely on intellect doesn’t count. Any job that doesn’t set you up to, yeah, afford private jets, isn’t worth having.”

  “I’m sorry, Josh.”

  “Whatever. It could be worse. I always looked at that money as an emergency fund, in case we needed to pay a ransom to get Logan rescued on one of his disaster recovery missions from rubbing some South American drug lords the wrong way.”

  That was…oddly specific. But it gave A
nnabeth an idea. “So you would use it, under the right circumstances?”

  He nodded, once. Confusion drew his dark blond brows together. “That’s one hell of an extenuating circumstance. Pretty much the only one I’ve come up with so far.”

  “Because it would matter. Because it would make a difference. To other people, not just to you.” She drilled a finger into his thigh on every other word for emphasis.

  “Yeah.”

  “So don't just be a cook. Be a cook who makes a difference.” Annabeth crossed her arms in cocky triumph, pretty darn pleased with herself for figuring out the work-around. One that would let Josh keep his pride and still fully fund a mega-expansion.

  Josh just stared at her. Either he was processing…or getting ready to get mad at her again.

  Finally, he shoved off the wall. Paced in a tight circle. Did it again, sidestepping a gaggle of tourists with an extended selfie stick. Then he rubbed the back of his neck. “You think it’s easy? To throw together a business plan for something this big? I have the kid write out the menus for the truck every day, because he’s three times faster than me.”

  “Ask for help. Isn’t that how you got through high school and culinary school? With help from tutors and friends?”

  “Yeah. I fucking hated it.”

  No doubt. Nothing was harder than depending on someone else for your own success.

  Annabeth stood, angling in closer. “You liked the end result, though. Standing there on graduation day with a tassel hanging over your eye. Give these kids, as many as you can, their own version of a graduation day.” She threw out her arm, pointing back at the Capitol Grilled. Steam rolled out the big front window. “Imagine Kordell running his own truck in six months, training someone else whose life will forever be changed because of learning this trade.”

  Josh started to pace what would undoubtedly be another circle. Annabeth would call it his thinking circle from now on. Instead, she grabbed at his shirt to hold him still. To make him confront the fear that was holding him back.

  He didn’t shake her off, or yell. He didn’t look convinced, though, either. “Damn it, Annabeth, all my friends have their own jobs, their own lives. I can’t ask them to carve out time for something I ought to be able to do for myself.”

  “You think Knox felt that way when he asked you to train him at the gym?”

  “Hell no. He’s a self-centered prick.”

  Ugh. Annabeth let go of his arm. The ACSs were so tight, they’d spent so many years blogging openly about their feelings, that she sometimes forgot they were still Men with a capital M. “Why is it that men can only express their love for each other through insults?”

  He smirked. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

  Annabeth put her palms on his chest. On the thin cotton of his long-sleeved tee and realized he’d been out here without a coat this whole time. Again, men. “You have all the ideas. You only need help translating them into something formal. I’d bet you a hundred dollars, here and now, that all of your roommates would jump at the chance to help with this. To help be a part of something so important. At the very least, you could say it’s their Christmas present to you.”

  Josh draped his wrists over her shoulders. Then he dipped his forehead to rest on hers. Quietly, he asked, “What if, even if I get help, it’s too much? What if I screw it up?”

  Wow. Annabeth knew that feeling inside and out. It chased her every day.

  It had kept her waitressing probably a good year past when she should’ve had the guts to get out of there. She’d taken the classes, worked her butt off, burned the midnight oil…but worry that she’d screw up her new job dogged her constantly.

  Josh had already proven himself, though. He’d made a huge success out of the Capitol Grilled. It was the first D.C. food truck to be mentioned in Zagat’s. A few months ago, the White House hired him to provide food at a party for the summer interns. All he had to do was get out of his head and take an objective look.

  She dropped kisses at the corner of each of his eyes, on his nose, and finally on those firm, yummy lips. “What if you start by believing in yourself? Believe in yourself as much as the rest of us do. You won’t ever regret trying. But I can promise that, sooner or later, you’ll regret not trying.”

  There was another long break of silence. Well, as silent as 17th Street got with the taxis honking and bus gears squealing on a double-decker sightseeing tour. Then Josh slipped to the side and slung his arm over her shoulders as he walked them back toward the truck.

  “I was wrong to shut you down the other night about this. The guys have tried to talk me into this off and on for a month now. You’re the only one who figured out how to get through my thick skull.”

  Annabeth was thrilled that she’d perhaps ensured that his vision would and could become a reality. Of course, she was also thrilled on a purely selfish level that this whole dating thing, sharing opinions and talking through problems, was now off to a far better start for them.

  “Good. Now you’ve got something to think about all day instead of that fantasy of locking me in your bedroom.”

  “No need. I’m one hell of a multitasker. Ambidextrous, too.” He wiggled all ten of his fingers in the air, even with her breasts. With a wink, a wicked grin, and a caress of her ass, Josh said, “You’ll find that out soon enough.”

  Annabeth couldn’t wait. They’d jumped a big hurdle today. Were now quite definitely ensconced in dating land. Having proven they could handle it, didn’t that mean sex should be put back on the table?

  And soon?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Josh almost opened the door for Annabeth. Then he remembered how badly their first official date went. That’d been mostly his fault. So before he possibly screwed up again, maybe a pop quiz was in order.

  They’d talked about a bunch of things in their nightly Skype dates over the past week. Both too busy to carve out a full evening, they crawled into bed together instead. Only via computer—sadly—but it was fun. Interesting. Hot. Josh had never realized how sexy a rumpled Henley could be on a woman when she wore it in bed. Without a bra underneath.

  Annabeth had opened up about her brothers. He’d shared with her the story of those three days they’d spent trapped in the Alps.

  Josh had never before told any woman the full story. Not his mom, not his sister. Sure as hell not the therapist the cover-your-ass high school lawyers had foisted on him. Not the private shrink his parents had hired after the dyslexia diagnosis to help him “not feel like a failure.”

  But he’d wanted to tell Annabeth. And she’d struck the perfect balance of pity-free sympathy and teasing about no showers or snacks—or girls.

  Oddly enough, they never touched on the pine-scented elephant in the room. Which would swing this date either from great to another dud. So even though snowflakes were collecting on her dark hair, Josh paused with his hand on the knob to ask her the important question.

  “Are you a fan of Christmas? Do you gobble down those sugar cookies in the shape of a tree with thick green icing sprinkled with colored sugar? Sing along with carols in a store? Spike your cocoa with peppermint schnapps?”

  Annabeth snorted. “Only you, Josh.”

  “Only me what? Because I know I’m not the only guy on the planet who likes the holiday.”

  “Only you would have two out of three things on a list of reasons to like Christmas be food related. I’m guessing most people would’ve put a tree or presents on that list long before cocoa and cookies.”

  “Most people are missing the best parts, then.” He’d spent the weekend bingeing on holiday baking shows. His roommates had teased him mercilessly about it. And then begged for forgiveness when he made them a Scotch whisky trifle with caramel custard cream, raspberries, pound cake, and chocolate curls.

  Annabeth tugged at the hair just curling over the collar of his black turtleneck. “You’re adorable.”

  “Adorably sexy?” Sex might still be off the table. But Josh
wanted to make sure that it wasn’t off of her mind.

  “That, too. To answer your question, my favorites are actually the star-shaped cookies. I like to sprinkle them with those little gold and silver balls and then bite off each point.”

  “More than acceptable.” He started to open the door, but she laid a gloved hand on top of his to stop him.

  “I’d rather have mulled wine than spiked cocoa, but I certainly wouldn’t turn either down. And I sing like crap, but yes, I always do sing along with carols. Is this some kind of relationship test? Do you secretly read Cosmo and take the quizzes?”

  Josh barely held back a shudder at the memory. “Only once, when I was stuck in an Urgent Care for three hours. Turns out the zodiac sign I’m most sexually compatible with is Pisces.”

  “I told you last night I’m a Pisces,” she said suspiciously, batting at a snowflake on his cheek.”

  “Huh. That’s right. Interesting… Anyway, I’m a sucker for Christmas, so I love this place. Had to be sure you don’t have any Scrooge-like tendencies.” With a hand at the small of her back, Josh ushered her inside.

  The blast of heat was a welcome relief. They both stopped two steps in at an alcove with a long coatrack and un-layered. Josh couldn’t tear his gaze away as Annabeth took off her parka, red hat, and slowly unwound a long black scarf. His mouth went dry.

  “Will you do that for me once we finally get naked?”

  “What?”

  He put all her things on a hanger, then draped his coat on top. “Come to bed in just a scarf. I’ll watch you unwind it. Slowly. Then I’ll wind you up.”

  Heat flared in her eyes, eclipsing the streaks of green and gold to turn them the color of molten caramelized sugar. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I like the look of that blazer.” He rubbed his palm down the red velvet covering her arm. “What’ve you got underneath it?”

  “Nothing.”