“The reporter who wants to interview Tai,” Adahy told her.
“Is she cute?”
Tai didn’t answer. No way he was stepping into that minefield.
“Yeah, she’s pretty hot, wouldn’t you say?” Adahy asked him.
He had to say something. “Hadn’t noticed.”
“You gone blind all of a sudden?” Adahy laughed and then screwed up his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re attracted to her?”
Tai was too tired for this. They’d been so busy at the restaurant and he wanted some peace and quiet.
“Leave it. I don’t need to do interviews. The restaurant’s doing well.”
“But you’ve got things to say,” his brother said.
“Nothing they want to hear,” Tai told him. “I’m going to bed.”
He escaped the kitchen and the grilling.
***
Piper didn’t get a chance to put the next part of her Operation Woods plan into action until the following week. Adahy had called to let her know he’d had no luck, but did tell her what time Tai usually turned up at the restaurant.
With that in mind, she cleared a spot in her schedule on Tuesday, explaining to Geraldine her plan, and headed to the Wooden Spoon.
She’d eaten there once, a few months back when Libby was celebrating a new book deal. The food had been out-of-this-world fantastic, but when she’d asked to speak to Tai to thank him, she’d been refused. Now she stood outside the locked front door, thinking. There had to be a back door, somewhere they received all their deliveries. Heading around the side she discovered one such delivery in progress. A van from a seafood company had its doors open and the driver was unloading crates of produce.
The door to the restaurant opened and a woman stepped out. She was about Piper’s height, had black, curly hair and was wearing jeans, runners and a pink T-shirt.
“Howdy, Steve,” she called.
The driver passed her a delivery docket. “Kath, how are things?”
“Great.” The woman signed the docket and handed it back to him before noticing Piper. She frowned and held the door open so Steve could wheel the crates inside. “Usual spot,” she said and then turned to Piper.
Piper smiled at her, approaching slowly so she didn’t seem threatening. “Hi, my name’s Piper. We spoke on the phone last week,” she said, holding out her hand for Kath to shake. “I’m a reporter for the Houston Age.”
“Persistent, aren’t you?” Kath said, but smiled.
“Sometimes it pays,” Piper agreed.
“Sometimes.” Kath held open the door. “You can come in, but I won’t guarantee you a friendly reception.”
“Noted.” Piper acknowledged the nerves bouncing around her stomach. She hadn’t seen Tai since the bar where she’d met him, but she remembered exactly how her skin had sizzled that night.
Piper followed Kath into the kitchen, standing aside to let the deliveryman past and out of the door.
The kitchen was all stainless steel and white. There was a mass of stoves, ovens and cooking implements, but everything was clean and organized and in its place.
“He’s in his office,” Kath told her and showed her to the small room at the back of the kitchen.
Tai was sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer.
He had his hair braided today and he was wearing a green T-shirt.
Looking at him didn’t give Piper the jolt he had when they’d first met.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Chef, you’ve got a visitor,” Kath said.
Tai looked up. His eyes met Piper’s.
It wasn’t a jolt: it was a lightning bolt.
***
Tai clenched his jaw at the interruption. He was in the middle of ordering supplies for the next week. Kath knew better than to disturb him and besides, she knew he didn’t take visitors.
His eyes met the hazel ones that had been haunting him and he inhaled sharply before controlling himself. He frowned. “I said no interviews,” he said and focused back on his screen, well aware Piper wasn’t moving.
“I’ll leave you two,” Kath said and disappeared.
Friend or not, he’d have words to her after this.
He kept typing, not really paying attention to what he was doing on the screen. He was too aware of the woman hovering at the door.
She stepped forward. “I know you don’t want to be interviewed, but if you’d just hear me out, I think you’ll agree it’s a good opportunity.”
“For you or for me?” he asked, eyes still on the screen.
“For both of us,” she said. Her voice was warm, light and friendly. The type of voice that might lull you to sleep, or make you believe. A reporter’s voice.
“I’m not interested.”
She didn’t listen. “The series is a collection of ten interviews of prominent people in Houston. The Age wants to highlight their achievements and what they are doing for the city.” She named a few of the other people involved in the series.
“Tell me, what am I doing for the city?” he asked, curious what kind of information she had, what kind of spin she’d put on the story.
There was a pause. “You’re providing employment, fabulous food and making Native American cuisine part of the gourmet experience.”
Tai hid his surprise. He didn’t make a big thing of his culture’s influence – it was enough for him to know what he was doing; he didn’t need others to.
Still she didn’t seem to know anything else.
“So I’m your token Indian?” he asked. “You need to make sure you get your quota?” He glanced up as anger flitted across her face.
He’d hit a sore point.
Then she sighed, stepped forward and sat down on the seat across from him. Way too close for comfort. He pushed his chair back from the desk.
“I’ll be honest with you,” she said.
He barked out a laugh. An honest journalist. That was a contradiction in terms.
She ignored his reaction. “I know why my managing editor chose the other nine participants. They all have a leaning toward his political agenda and elections are coming up. But I found nothing like that about you. When I asked my editor, all she said was getting your interview would be a coup because you’re such a recluse.”
So he was a challenge. They didn’t care about his politics, because they didn’t even make a blip on their radar.
He scowled. “So what would your piece be about?”
“What do you want it to be about? What do you want to tell me, to tell Houston about?”
It was tempting, but he knew better than to be tempted. That had gone wrong before. “It doesn’t matter what I say. You’ll twist my words to represent whatever your paper wants to suggest.”
Piper sat bolt upright and as good as bristled. “Like that tacky travel writer? The one who wrote that condescending piece about you and this restaurant? I’m not like that. I report the truth.”
Tai stared at her. “How do you know about that?” He’d hoped it had been well and truly buried.
“I did my research.”
Though he didn’t want to, he had to admire her dedication. For her to find that little article, she must have dug deep. Though he was pretty sure she still hadn’t discovered his true passion.
“I’m willing to show you the article before it goes to my editor,” Piper said. “I can’t promise she won’t make any changes, but I will show you what I submit.”
“Do I get the opportunity to veto it?” he asked, curious in spite of himself.
She shook her head slowly. “I can’t promise you that. If I tell my editor I got the interview, I have to deliver it.”
She wasn’t making promises she couldn’t keep. He admired that. Some would have promised just to get the interview. What would she say if he told her about his tribe, if he explained how he was trying to help them, promote their culture, provide opportunity and employment, and bring back those who had fallen into desp
air?
Would she think his culture was history and that he needed to move on? That they needed to assimilate with western society?
Or would she understand and want to learn more?
He wasn’t sure.
Finally he said, “I’ll think about it.” He wanted time to do his own research, find out more about Piper Atkinson, read some of the other articles she’d written to see what kind of person and reporter she was.
“It’s all I ask,” Piper said with a smile. She handed him her business card and her soft fingers brushed his.
He ignored the resulting warmth spreading through him.
“I’ll call you next week to see if you’ve made your decision,” she said as she stood.
She left the room and he breathed out a sigh of relief. Something told him she was going to be trouble.
***
“So, did you agree?” Kath’s voice came from the doorway.
Tai scowled at her. “I said I’d think about it.”
“Come on, Tai. This is a great opportunity for the restaurant and for people to hear about what you’ve done. You’ve given so many people a chance to get their lives back on track.”
“I don’t need people to know.” He didn’t need acknowledgment.
“But you deserve recognition. You’ve worked so hard. And you could inspire others to be a part of what you’re doing.”
Tai looked at his sous chef. Recognition was something that was important to her. She was always striving to be the best. They’d worked their way up the ranks of different restaurants and she had his respect, but about this they had different opinions. He was used to keeping his head down, not attracting attention, and getting the job done.
“I’ll think about it,” he repeated in a tone that said it was the end of the conversation.
She took the hint. “Seafood has been delivered and I’ve added the crab dish to the specials menu. Jared knows how to make it, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’m going to do the roster for the next month and then I’ll review the customer orders, check if there’s any dish not being ordered that we might need to change.”
“Sounds good.”
Finally she left and he was able to consider Piper’s offer. He had other work he should be doing, but he was distracted now. He searched the internet for her name and came up with several social media sites, her personal blog and the Houston Age website.
Her social media showed she had a passion for the environment and for the downtrodden. She had quite a good following. In her blog she spoke up about illiteracy, poverty, global warming and recycling. She wrote with passion and an easy-to-read, persuasive style.
On the paper’s website she wrote in various sections and none of the articles had much substance to them.
It was completely different from her blog posts. Perhaps she had little control over what she did for the newspaper – which only increased his mistrust. He’d been taken in by journalists before.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number. There was one person who might be able to give him details about Piper Atkinson, one person he’d trust to tell him the truth.
“George, it’s Tai,” he said when George answered the phone.
“Howdy. What can I do for you?”
“I want your honest opinion about Piper Atkinson. She wants to interview me for some series.”
George didn’t hesitate. “Piper is about as honest as they come. She is always balanced in her reporting and she fights for what she believes in. I’ve never known someone so determined and still relatively optimistic, given her job.”
“You’d trust her to do an accurate interview?”
“She was the only reporter who defended Adrian when his identity was released to the press by Kate’s nanny. Emily was playing the jilted lover and the press just ate it up until Piper interviewed her and showed her to be the liar she was.”
Tai leaned back in his chair. That was interesting.
“The only thing I would caution is she doesn’t get the final say in her articles. She often complains her editor makes changes to soften her articles. Piper can be a little confrontational at times and doesn’t play politics.”
She’d said as much to Tai that morning.
“Thanks, man.”
“Why don’t you come to dinner on Friday? We’re having a few friends over and Piper will be there. You can get to know her.”
Tai hesitated. Did he want to get to know Piper? She did something to his equilibrium, messed with his calm. He flicked over the roster.
He was free.
Seeing it as a sign, he said, “Sure. You want me to bring anything?”
“Don’t tempt me.” George laughed. “Or I’ll have you cooking the whole thing.”
Tai smiled as he hung up. George was one of the most genuine guys he’d ever met, which was surprising considering he was in the music business.
So George trusted Piper.
Was Tai willing to do the same?
***
Piper hadn’t stopped all week. She’d skipped breakfast most days and eaten her remaining meals either at her desk or on the drive to her next news story. With the extra work on the profile series, she’d been lucky to finish work before ten o’clock.
The humidity hadn’t helped matters. Being outside was like walking through a sauna and it sapped some of her energy.
Finally it was Friday evening and she’d sent off her final article for the day. Summer vacation was winding up, so she’d been working on the usual back-to-school articles, finding new spins to put on them.
She reviewed her emails, flagged those she had to follow up on Monday and then shut down her computer. She was going to leave on time. Elle had invited her over for dinner and she was looking forward to catching up with her friends. She packed up her laptop and, with a wave to a couple of colleagues, headed out the door.
When she got home, she indulged in a long, cool shower and dressed in a green summer dress she’d bought ages earlier but hadn’t had a chance to wear. She checked the time, grabbed her satchel and headed to George’s place.
When Elle let her in, Piper heard kids’ laughter from the garden.
“Everyone’s in the living room,” Elle told her, giving her a hug.
“I’m not late, am I?” she asked.
“No. We’re still waiting on Tai,” Elle said.
Piper stopped walking. “Tai Woods?”
“Yeah, he’s a friend of George’s.”
Piper knew that, but she hadn’t been expecting him there. She had to make sure she didn’t mention the interview. She would be off-duty tonight. If she pressured him she suspected he’d say no just to spite her.
She walked into the open-plan living room and kitchen. Libby and Adrian were sitting on the couch chatting to Imogen and Chris while George stirred something on the stove. Outside Toby was playing on a swing with Adrian’s niece, Kate.
She breathed out, allowing herself to relax. George handed her a glass of white wine and she took a seat on one of the sofas as the doorbell rang. Elle left to answer it. Piper smiled. Elle had recently moved in with George, and Piper was happy for them both. Before George, Elle had been in an abusive relationship and she’d found it difficult to trust again. But once she’d seen George would never hurt her the way her ex had, there’d been no reason not to take the next step of moving in.
Tai walked in, wearing black jeans, a leather motorcycle jacket and black backpack. Piper’s eyes were drawn to him. What was it about him that fascinated her? She wasn’t usually into the strong, silent type.
He actually smiled when he greeted George, and the smile was large and friendly. Piper’s heartbeat increased. She watched their interaction with interest.
Tai took his backpack off and unpacked a large insulated metal container. “This needs to go into the freezer,” he said.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” George said to him.
“My grandmother a
lways told me never to come empty-handed,” Tai said. “I know it’s your favorite.”
George chuckled. “Maybe we should skip dinner and go straight for dessert.”
Piper had never seen Tai so relaxed. It was like he was a different person, someone who was even approachable.
“What has the paper got you working on, Piper?” Libby asked, turning toward Piper.
At her name, Tai turned, saw her and tensed.
So much for approachable.
Piper smiled at him, keeping it friendly, before turning to answer her friend. “Same old stuff mostly, but I am doing a profile series – the People of Houston.”
“Like who?” Imogen asked and suddenly everyone was listening.
“I haven’t confirmed everyone,” Piper said, not wanting to bring Tai’s name into the mix. “I’ve got an interview with Russell Sventer from the Rockets next week, and I’ve interviewed a few politicians.” She named them.
“Russell will be interesting,” Chris said. “He’s been doing those basketball camps for the underprivileged kids all summer.”
She nodded. “The first couple of interviews have been really interesting. I hope they all will be.” She didn’t look at Tai.
“So has Geraldine given you a break from the local news while you do this?” Libby asked. She knew how much Piper wanted to get more interesting assignments.
Piper shook her head and laughed. “Nope. It’s business as usual; this is extra.”
Imogen squinted at her. “You’re looking tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”
If anyone in their group of friends was a mother figure, it was Imogen. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “What’s the latest on the Ryder brand?” Imogen was a fashion designer who was working on her own label of clothing.
“It’s all still on paper but I’m getting ready to put it into motion. Chantelle has hired a new production manager and I’ll be handing over to him in the next month or so. Then I can concentrate on my own stuff.”
Piper was glad. Imogen had worked for her father’s haute couture fashion label since leaving high school, but had never had the chance to do her own designs. She’d left the company earlier in the year to work with a friend, but was almost ready to go it alone and make the clothes she really wanted to make.
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