by Claire Adams
"You know, I've been thinking," Barbie said as she heaved herself up the small hill to stand next to me.
"Oh, yes, Barbie suggested a garden path. Something nice and even," I said.
Both men smiled and nodded, but all I saw was Rainer's fierce eyebrows. Even as he smiled, they were drawing tighter together. Our conversation was clearly not over, but I had no idea why he was so set on convincing me Ellison wasn't his girlfriend. Why would that matter to me?
"No, actually, I was thinking you should try that great little hotel in Tasha's town. You know, when you go on your date. Do a pregnant mama a favor and try one of those Cuban sidecar cocktails," Barbie said.
So, that's what jealous looks like, I thought as Rainer's frown deepened. He suddenly noticed a text message and got out of the garden plot as if the hillside was on fire. The only problem was, I watched him go before remembering Seth was still there and smiling at me.
Chapter Twelve
Rainer
Skipping the line never gets old. I got out of my new car at the valet stand and was directed straight up the stairs. A whole herd of people pushed against the velvet ropes, and I saw a few flashbulbs fire off. I was at the front door of the best new restaurant in San Francisco, and it was opening night.
My smile was camera ready, and I shook hands with half a dozen people in the foyer. Champagne appeared beside me in seconds, and I was assured my table would be ready momentarily. The whole restaurant was a hum of anxious staff and excited patrons, the newly rich and the eager to be seen.
All I could think about was Tasha.
I downed my champagne and balanced the empty flute on a passing tray. Then I pulled out my phone and sent Tasha a message, just seeing if she got her invitation to the restaurant opening.
"Expecting someone?" Berger asked. He sidled up next to me in the crowd and tipped back a fresh glass of champagne.
"Just checking to see who else from the office is taking advantage of our invites," I said.
Berger smirked. "Sure. I'm betting on everyone but Ms. Nichols. How about you?"
"She might surprise you," I said.
"No, man, you're the only one who's surprising me. We have to talk more about this whole digging in the dirt thing you have going on with Tasha." Berger was serious and seemed to have me cornered.
I didn't want to do it, but I waved across the room. Anyone was better than Berger and his office gossip. "I see my brother. Better go say hello. You know how it is." I slapped Berger on the shoulder and slipped through the tight crowd to my brother's small table.
Evan gave me a sour smile as yet another excited customer jostled past. He clapped a hand over his teetering wine glass. "Trying to jump in at the last minute? Not so sure your charm can get you a table tonight. We had to make reservations months ago."
I gave my sister-in-law a peck on the cheek and noticed her pursed lips. Here they were at the trendiest restaurant, but it wasn't enough. She wanted a better table and clearly blamed my brother. "Father mentioned you were having quite an upswing lately," she said to annoy her husband.
My brother scowled. "Yes, we're all curious how long you'll manage to keep this up."
I caught another flute of champagne off a passing tray. The server paused to let me know my table was ready. Near the front windows, in a spacious spread of large, round tables, a white-gloved waiter beckoned me. "Gotta run; I'm famished. Good to see you. Say hello to Father."
I could feel Evan's eyes boring a hole in my back as I walked away. My sister-in-law was already complaining about my prime table position when her whining was cut off.
"There you are, darling." Ellison appeared out of nowhere and gave me a graceful kiss on the cheek. The normal wave of attention that followed her broke on a soft sigh. I could already hear all the tabloid speculation buzzing out over social media. "I know you've got a wonderful table, but how about you join me at mine?"
"And where's that?" I asked, suspicious.
Ellison just laughed and looped an arm through mine. "The chef's table, silly."
Within minutes, we had met the cream of the kitchen staff and greeted the genius chef himself. I was starving but posed for a series of photographs with half a dozen people I didn't know, and always with Ellison hanging on my arm. Then the chef showed us our seats, more of a raised dais on the edge of the open kitchen, with the entire jealous restaurant behind us. I was glad when the food began to appear and I didn't have to think about all the speculative eyes looking in our direction.
The chef was weaving a story with tantalizing appetizers as details when I finally got a message back from Tasha. She'd sent me a picture of a fresh torta from the taco truck in her little neighborhood. It was balanced precariously on a stack of work folders on her dining room table. I could see the lights of the bay from her window in the background, and felt the distance across the dark water between us.
I sent back a snapshot of the tiny, frothy dollop that was my next course and told her how jealous I was of her dinner. I would have given up my seat at the chef's table in an instant if I was offered a place on the couch next to her.
At least I recognize the garnish, I wrote.
Have a good thyme, Tasha replied.
I chuckled out loud and reread the exchange a few more times before tucking away my phone. I would have felt guilty if Ellison hadn't been texting directions to her cronies while she raved about the food. It was next to impossible to concentrate on the delicately structured next course. It was a bird's nest of infusions, and I didn't understand which part was edible. All I could think about was a cold beer and the better view from across the bay.
My phone buzzed again, and I dug it out eagerly.
"Uh oh," Ellison said, checking her own phone. "Looks like my paparazzi are at it again."
Berger sent me the photograph that was making the rounds faster than lightning. It was me smiling down at my phone with the suggestion that Ellison Ramsey was sending me love notes. The winning consensus was that we were back in love and on the verge of engagement.
Letting the junior execs know we should start planning a bachelor party, was Berger's comment.
Then I realized he'd sent the photograph to our work group. Tasha was on the top of the list, and she was one of the only ones not to comment. How could I casually tell her it was all wrong?
Ellison seemed to think it was all right, even though she knew full well I hadn't been smiling at a message from her. She smiled and flirted her way through the entire night and seemed very surprised when I told her limo driver to take me home.
"I'd invite you in, but I barely have furniture," I said.
"Rainer, don't be silly. You can come stay with me," Ellison said. Her driver held the door open and gestured for me to get back inside.
I shook my head. "Since when do you turn in so early? Isn't there some gallery that needs attending, or a late night exclusive concert?"
Ellison pouted. "There is. Are you sure you won't come with me?"
"Thanks for a wonderful, ah, meal," I said. "Goodnight."
I commended myself for letting her down easy. There was no way she could have missed those hints. I slept well, thinking that I was free and clear once again no matter what social media said.
Then I woke up to a screaming saw. Sledgehammers hit the walls of my living room, and I scrambled downstairs in a panic. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
A dapper interior designer introduced himself as Raphael. "Ellison Ramsey sent me over, and I just had to get started right away. Of course we'll discuss color schemes and styles, but first, we need to fix the flow of the first floor."
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, tugging on my dress pants.
"Ms. Ramsey's gift to you - the full interior design treatment. And when I told her there had to be renovations, she told me to send you her way. The darling says you can stay with her until we're finished here. Isn't she just an angel?" Raphael clapped his hands and strode off, giving orders.
"No, wa
it. There's been a mistake," I said. "This isn't a gift; she referred you to me. And I'll be living here throughout all the renovations."
Raphael and the crew were right to look at me like I was insane, but I wasn't about to let Ellison railroad me into being her doll. She had never been good at not getting her way, but this was insane. A few meetings, a social media storm, and Ellison thought I really was going to be her fiancé. I wanted to scream.
It was a relief to drive away, though it took all the way to the bridge until the ringing in my ears stopped. And it wasn't just the sledgehammers. Raphael had hounded me for color palettes and had repeatedly screeched that I needed a vision board. I was glad to get the San Francisco Bay between me and my new zoo.
The community garden was just what I needed. Until I saw Tasha.
"Fun night last night?" she asked. "Should I be expecting some big announcement soon?"
I flinched. Of course Tasha had seen the photograph of me at the restaurant opening. But, how could she, of all people, think that photograph meant Ellison and I were getting engaged?
"There's no announcement," I said. "Why do people assume that?"
Tasha gathered up a flat of parsley plants. "Because everyone likes when the big-time playboy settles down. Gives everyone hope," she said.
I tugged the flat of plants out of her hands. "I was looking at your message in the photograph, you know."
Tasha's hands fell to her sides. For one moment, her eyes held mine and then she strode off towards the garden. She knew the smile I had on my face in that photograph, the smile everyone thought meant I was in love, was actually for her. So, naturally, she refused to talk about it.
"You know what gives me hope?" I asked.
Tasha dropped down next to the first garden row but glanced up at me. "No. What?" she asked, cautiously.
"Preschoolers planting herbs," I said. "The chef's food last night was spectacular, but nothing beats that moment when kids realize you can eat things straight from the garden."
"That reminds me," Tasha muttered, "make sure to update the poisonous plants image index."
I waited until she'd made a note in her phone. "Aren't you happy?" I asked. "I'm happy."
Tasha's gaze fluttered to mine again. "Sitting in the dirt at 10 a.m. makes you happy?"
I laughed but stabbed my trowel into the dirt harder than was necessary. "Yes. Why is that so surprising?"
"Because you're this flashy, social scene, fashionable billionaire who everyone is keeping tabs on. You just spent last night at the most exclusive restaurant opening. And you seriously want me to believe that this is where you'd rather be?" Tasha pushed her fists into the dirt but kept her eyes on me. "What happened to the insanely rich exec in his penthouse office suite?"
I planted the first parsley. "I think you got us confused at the end there," I said. "I never said I wanted to be the big boss man. That's you."
Tasha swiped her hair out of her eyes. "But this is all part of the show, isn't it? Don't get me wrong; the campaign is working, but, come on. Tell me the truth. Aren't you ready to get back to your big-money life?"
I felt a surge of jealousy. "Is this all Mr. Salt-of-the-Earth talking? My big-money life? What about you? You could have been at the restaurant opening last night. You should have come."
"I thought you were jealous of my food truck torta," Tasha said.
I nodded. "I definitely would have skipped the whole suit song-and-dance if you'd invited me over," I admitted.
Tasha stood up and brushed the dirt off her knees in an abrupt manner. "I told Stan that I would check in with him this morning. I'll just make the call from my car."
I was ready to dwell on what she'd said and not said when the preschoolers came out from their classroom. Soon the garden was filled with screeches and laughter, dirt, and the need to save the small plants from trampling feet. The kids loved seeing our virtual garden plan and comparing it with the real thing. I wanted Tasha to enjoy it - the very real application of her program - but she remained in her car.
Then when she did come out, Tasha found ways to avoid me. It wasn't hard with about fifteen moving obstacles in between us, but she made sure we didn't say another word to each other until lunchtime.
The preschoolers marched off back to their classroom, and I cornered Tasha near the frame for our runner beans. "Please tell me you plan to order sandwiches from that great little deli again," I said.
Tasha crossed her arms. "Aren't you headed back to the office yet?"
"We get lunch breaks, Tasha."
She sighed. "Fine. You go get cleaned up, and I'll order. What do you want?"
I couldn't help it. I winked at her. "You know what I like."
Tasha gave me a pained look but pulled out her phone. The fact that she didn't hesitate before ordering my favorite sandwich gave me hope, and I headed for the community center with a good feeling.
Tasha fought my good feeling every step of the way. Not that I blamed her. She was right about everyone seeing me as a playboy. It had been a persona that had served me well for years. And, after our little slip-up, it was natural for her to keep her distance. Especially since she thought I was involved with another woman. All I had to do was prove to her that wasn't true. And to find ways to close the distance between us.
I laid out a blanket on the grassy hill next to the garden and motioned for Tasha to bring our sandwiches over. She did and then couldn't find a polite reason to not sit and eat with me.
I smiled at her. "So, the big Hyperion gala is coming up. It's required. You ready to put on a fancy dress and have some fun?"
Tasha shook her head. "I suppose we all have to bid high on this year's silent auction," she said.
"I've got a great strategy for that. Stick with me, and I'll show you how to make charity galas a good time," I said.
"I've been to all the same Hyperion galas as you have," Tasha reminded me.
I was about to ask her if she'd go as my date, but her comment pushed me back. Tasha was right. She was my equal, and she didn't need my invitation or my company. In fact, I still couldn't imagine why she'd let me hang around so long.
"Or we could skip it and grab a late night dinner at that taco truck," I said.
Tasha smiled. She actually smiled, and I felt like jumping up and sprinting to the top of the hill. Then Seth showed up and made himself comfortable on the corner of the blanket closest to Tasha.
"The garden is looking great," he said. "And I've got the plans for the garden path your sister suggested. I was thinking about your idea of pressing leaves into the wet cement for imprints. I think we should make a signpost key and it can be an identification game the kids play."
Right to business. No wonder Tasha liked him.
I got up and crumpled up my sandwich wrapper. "Thanks for lunch, Tasha. Before I go, maybe we can chat a bit more about the gala?" I asked.
Tasha gave a distressed frown and stood up quickly. "Sure, I'll just walk with you—"
"Hey, yeah, I forgot I'd see you at the gala too," Seth said. "I'm so glad Tasha invited me. I don't get much of a chance to wear a tuxedo. Should be fun."
Tasha didn't move, and neither did I. Then she bit her lip and asked, "How about Ellison? We'll see her there too?"
I should have stuck to flying solo, but as soon as I knew Tasha was taking the landscaper, I had to bring someone. Ellison, of course, was delighted.
The night of the gala, when Ellison walked in on my arm, no one doubted that I was happy. How could I not be over the moon with a stunning force of grace and fashion on my arm? Ellison navigated the charity gala with ease, and everyone looked at me with a new respect. Even Berger and the crew of junior execs couldn't come up with any jokes. We were the perfect couple.
"Did you hear me, Rainer?" Ellison asked.
"What? No." I blinked and turned back to her. Across the downtown ballroom, Tasha had just arrived with Seth, the landscaper. The damn golden boy looked great in a tuxedo, and I hated him even more.
/>
"I was asking if we should bid on Italy or Switzerland," Ellison said. "The Switzerland trip is in the fall so it might work better with our schedules, but the Italy vacation is at a private castle."
"Our schedules?" I asked.
Ellison patted my arms and put down a bid on the Italy vacation. She then led me through the rest of the silent auction, making tasteful choices and impressive bids. Charity was the only time Ellison let her deep, deep pockets show.
Or maybe she'd been writing my name after the astronomical sums. I couldn't pay attention to anything but the swirl of Tasha's deep-blue dress across the room. I was still watching her when my phone buzzed. I saw Tasha take out her phone too, so I raced to check the message.
"Apologies," I said to Ellison. "I've got to meet with the other execs over the speeches and toasts. You know how it is."
Ellison knew and smiled. She really was the perfect woman, but my stomach coiled when she reached up to kiss me. That's why I turned my face at the last moment and let her land on my cheek.
The feeling stayed with me as I met Tasha backstage. I couldn't even speak, I was so frustrated. Ellison was purposefully projecting the happy couple scene that everyone wanted to see, and no one noticed that I wasn't interested. I'd have to be insane not to be interested.
But all I wanted was Tasha.
"Stan wants us to do a quick speech about the community garden," Tasha said. "Are you up to it?"
"If you're standing next to me," I said.
"Good. Fine." Tasha moved to open the curtains, but I grabbed her hand.
She turned to me with a shocked expression, but I couldn't let go. "I wanted to come here with you," I blurted out.
"We're both here," Tasha said as if I was a slow child. "I'll stand by the podium while you handle the little impromptu speech."
"Here's an impromptu speech," I said. "I can't leave it at just one night."
Tasha tore her hand out of mine. "This is not the place to discuss what, ah, happened. It was a mistake."