by Hayes, Lane
I smiled when he waggled his brows. Levi had a boyish charm and oodles of charisma. With the right team and a solid business plan, he might actually open a successful restaurant.
“You’ve been busy then. When are you flying home?”
“I drove. I had to move a bunch of crap out of Kevin’s place and—I’ll be back Saturday. So what do you say? Will you give me an hour of your time to go over a few ideas?”
I narrowed my gaze suspiciously. “You’ve already talked to Wes, haven’t you?”
“Maybe. Okay, yeah. I just got off the phone with him before we talked, but I did try to call you first.”
“You should talk to Wes anyway.”
“He said you’re a team, which I assumed meant I should try to get on your good side. How am I doing?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Levi. The jury is still out on you. You may be too charming for your own good.”
“Yet here I am being completely ignored in an empty bar,” he joked.
“It’s the shirt, honey.”
Levi threw his head back and laughed. “So you wouldn’t wear this?”
“Hell, no. But don’t take that the wrong way. Would you wear these?” I flipped my phone to show him my pink-feathered slippers.
“What the fuck are those?” He scoffed.
I chuckled. “I rest my case. Good-bye, darling.”
“Hey, wait.” He brought his face closer to the screen. His expression was intense and maybe a little unsure. “I just—are you okay?”
I stared at him for a moment without speaking. I felt suddenly choked up again, moved by that same underlying kindness I sensed in him after I’d flipped out the other night. Not pity or worry about the state of my mental health. Just…kindness.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Good. I’ll see you Saturday, Geord.”
I tucked my phone into my pocket and then leaned against the bench and lifted my face to the sky. And smiled. I closed my eyes against the midday glare and enjoyed the contrast of the cool air and warm sun. My heart felt light and unfettered for the first time in a week.
“I like him,” a familiar voice whispered.
“He’s nice. For a friend,” I replied, not bothering to look up. I’d learned the hard way not to search for someone who wasn’t there.
Maybe I’d lost my mind. At least part of it. Yes, I talked to my dead lover. And sometimes, I was sure he talked to me. I couldn’t see Mike, but I felt him. My therapist didn’t seem overly concerned. She assured me there was no right or wrong way to grieve. If I spoke to a ghost, so be it. I couldn’t feel him all the time. The months after he passed were the hardest because I felt him and saw him and smelled him in everything I did. I was told that was normal too and that eventually as my grief ebbed, I’d let go of visions and voices and learn to be alone again. Sometimes I thought I was getting close, and then something would happen…like Levi.
I looked down at my slippers, admiring the way the breeze tousled the wispy feathers against my standard black trousers. That was the commentary I was used to from my ghost. Mike talked to me in death the way he had in life. With a reverence and adoration that made me weak in the knees. I’d never been loved the way he’d loved me. So absolute and complete.
My lips twitched when the feathers tickled the tops of my feet. I started to conjure a memory of Mike’s flabbergasted expression when I came home with a pair of thigh-high, blue patent leather boots. He couldn’t speak for a full minute and then—
“I like him,” the voice repeated.
I glanced up with a start and looked around. The air was still and quiet. But it was peaceful too. I held my hand out then shoved it into my pocket and swallowed hard.
“I do too, but not like that. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Geordie bird, let go.”
“What?” I furrowed my brow and cast a wary glance around me. Mike and Wes were the only ones who called me that, but Wes was in the city today and—
“I said, ‘Let’s go!’ A tour bus just pulled up, and there are at least twenty-five slightly schnockered gal pals who heard you were the reason to come to Napa. We need a hand in here.”
Ryan waved me forward with a panicky look that snapped me out of my reverie. He was a seasoned pro when it came to dealing with large, inebriated parties. If he said he needed assistance, I knew he was serious.
“I’ll be right there,” I called.
When Ryan disappeared inside, I took one last glance around the garden. I didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. The only real difference was the change of light and that had more to do with winter giving way to spring than any celestial forces. Mike wasn’t here. But that was okay. I had places to be and people who needed me.
By Saturday afternoon, contentment gave way to a serious bout of nerves. I flattened my palms on my knees and let out an occasional grunt or “Mmm” as Wes droned on beside me about the business ideas he wanted to go over with Levi. I gazed out the window of his BMW at the green rolling hillside, wishing the drive between the winery and the restaurant was longer. I couldn’t understand my anxiety. True, I hadn’t seen Levi since “the kiss,” but we’d talked. A lot.
He’d called or texted me every day since Wednesday. Our conversations usually began in text form; then he’d claim he couldn’t be sure what I meant until he saw my expression. The ensuing FaceTime chats were fifteen minutes of pure silliness with Levi giving me an embellished version of his LA exploits. His self-deprecating tales of being ignored at every gay bar in La La Land didn’t ring true because let’s be honest, anyone gay, straight, or somewhere in between would agree Levi was hot as hell. But I didn’t mind. He made me laugh. I hated phone conversations in general, but I liked talking to him.
I supposed it was because the underlying flirtation seemed harmless from a distance. And it was impossible not to be charmed by a sexy man who FaceTimed from an In-N-Out Burger on his drive home a few hours ago to show off his Double-Double combo with fries.
I knew what he was doing, and I appreciated it. These phone calls were undoubtedly meant to bridge over any lingering awkwardness after “the kiss.” They were a good way to reset and start again. So why did I feel like I had a desert in my mouth?
“…obviously we’ll insist on meeting the chef before we sign any paperwork. And ideally the manager too,” Wes said as he pulled into the empty parking lot of the old Skillet diner.
“Mmmhmm.”
Wes parked his BMW and whipped off his sunglasses as he turned to me. “You haven’t said a word all the way here. That’s not like you. What’s up?”
I scoffed as I unbuckled my seat belt. “Nothing at all. I’ve been listening.”
“Okay. What did I say?”
Wes had an uncanny ability to morph from mild-mannered to badass in seconds flat. I held his intense stare for as long as possible then reached for my bag.
“You’re going to offer to purchase the property outright. He’s going to refuse, and you’re going to counter with another offer to invest and form a partnership between the winery and this very sad little diner. How did I do?”
“Very well,” Wes conceded. “But something is bugging you. You’re moodier than usual. Not sad-moody…more like restless. Is everything alri—”
“I kissed him,” I blurted. I bit the inside of my cheek and waited for judgment.
I’d worked through my own guilt over the past week, but for some reason I felt the need to come clean. Mike was Wes’s mentor, ex-lover, business partner, and best friend. They loved and respected each other. Wes and I developed our own relationship over the years. We’d gone from tentative acquaintances to grudging friends and finally, best friends. We couldn’t be more different if we tried. Wes was easygoing, sexy, and kind, but he had a reputation for being a real ballbuster when necessary. I was thin, effeminate, and only sporadically sweet. Mike and the business we’d built were all we had in common. He was gone now, but Wes and I had clung to each other
and forged our own unique bond. If he sensed something was wrong with me, it was best to be honest and upfront.
“Levi?”
“Yes, Levi! Who do you think I’m talking about?” I snapped irritably before regaining my cool and barreling forward. “It was a moment of madness. Nothing to worry about. But I’d like a word alone with him afterward to confirm we’re on the same page. Perhaps you can make up an excuse to step outside and call Nick. Five minutes is all I’ll need. All right?”
Silence.
“Wes?”
“Um. Yes. Sure,” he finally replied, nodding repeatedly.
“Are you angry?” My bracelets jangled when I waved my hand dismissively. “Of course you aren’t. Silly question. Never fear. I promise to be perfectly professional. You have nothing to worry about. It won’t happen again.”
I pulled my lip gloss from my bag and lowered the passenger-side visor. I used the mirror purely as a prop. We all knew I didn’t need reflective assistance to apply gloss. I hoped he’d used my distraction to come up with something more than a monosyllabic response.
“I’m not worried or angry. I think it’s great,” he said with a faint smile.
“ ‘Great’? It’s hardly ‘great,’ but it’s also not a concern. I just thought you should know. Shall we?” I asked, reaching for the door handle.
“Hey.” He grabbed my wrist to stop me. “If you’re telling me this as a friend who needs to get something out of his system, I’m more than happy to lend an ear. But if you’re sharing this out of guilt…Birdie, it’s not necessary.”
“Don’t call me that. You’ll make me cry, and I’ll never forgive you if you ruin my mascara before I walk into that horrid building,” I said in a strained voice.
“I don’t want you to cry. I just want you to know you’re entitled to a life. Kiss all the cute guys while you can.”
“Is that what you do?”
Wes barked a quick laugh. “No way. Nick would kill me.”
“At the very least, he’d spray-paint equations all over the winery,” I teased. “I’m not seeking approval or forgiveness, but I don’t want to hide anything from you. Like it or not, you feel like my conscience sometimes.”
“So how was that kiss?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
I slipped my oversized, red cat-eyed sunglasses on my nose and pursed my lips. “Fabulous.”
“Then why not do it again?”
I sputtered in agitation. “According to you, we’re hoping to enter a business alliance. We must maintain a professional air.”
“As far as business goes, I trust your judgment. And on the personal side”—he slid my glasses down my nose and looked into my eyes—“you need to trust yourself, Geord. Are you ready?”
I swatted his hand away and stepped out of the car. I caught my reflection in the window as I hiked my bag over my shoulder. I was dressed from head to toe in my usual black mourning ensemble but my shoes, bag, and sunglasses were cherry red. I hoped the splash of color made me look less like a Latino vampire, but I couldn’t be sure. I was far too thin at the moment. My high cheekbones could use a little contouring, I thought as I turned to survey the nondescript, chipped yellowish stucco exterior of the building behind me.
Skillet, or the soon to be christened The Vine or La Vid, was located at the end of the cypress-lined road just a mile away from Conrad Winery. The ample parking lot next door provided a barrier of sorts between the diner and the ribbon of small family-owned shops along the street leading into the main square. I’d always loved the quaint, old-fashioned brick and stucco facades in this section of town. Tourists did too.
Over the past few years, the area had undergone a gentrification of sorts. Boutique clothing and home accessory stores were located alongside prestigious wine tasting rooms and kitschy coffee shops and the occasional café or bistro. The blend of high-end sophistication meets Mother Nature was a hit with the globally-conscious clientele who dropped big bucks to spend eco-friendly weekend getaways here.
In its current condition, the old Skillet didn’t fit in. It was a tired antique from the twentieth century in desperate need of a makeover, I mused as we pushed open the glass door and stepped into a construction zone. A couple of workers milled near the entry. One of them greeted us then called to Levi to announce our presence. He turned with a welcoming smile and damn…he looked better than I remembered.
I’d hoped the week apart would shake this feeling but no…I’d inexplicably developed a fondness for the scruffy-jawed man wearing a horrid plaid flannel, torn jeans, and work boots. And when he turned to me with a lopsided grin and a devilish twinkle in his eyes, I had a feeling I was in trouble.
Wes pointed out the new ceiling beams and electrical wiring while we waited for Levi. I nodded attentively, though I didn’t hear a word Wes said, and kept an eye on Levi as he finished talking to his contractor.
“Hi, there.” Levi shook Wes’s hand then reached for mine. And suddenly, I was back in high school with a wild crush on the campus cutie. I’d never been the shy type, but I was tongue-tied and pretty damn sure my clammy palms and my inability to sustain eye contact gave me away.
“Hello. How was your burger?” I blurted.
Wes widened his eyes and moved aside to examine an exposed beam like it was the most interesting thing ever. Great. I couldn’t decide if he was the world’s best or worst wingman. Thankfully, Levi played it cool. He slipped his hands into his back pockets and rocked on his heels.
“Awesome. Did I tell you I got a shake too?”
I shook my head. “No. What flavor?”
“Is that a real question? Chocolate. What else is there?”
“Strawberry, vanilla.” I pursed my lips to keep from laughing at his incredulous expression.
“Would you really order a strawberry shake before chocolate?”
“Well, maybe…”
“I don’t think we can be friends,” Levi said in a mockingly solemn tone.
I chuckled then gestured toward the kitchen area. “Just tell me you aren’t serving milkshakes here.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I can concoct something with a Latin vibe…like a jalapeño shake.” He waggled his eyebrows then motioned for us to follow him. “Come on. I’ll show you the plans while the workers finish cleaning up for the night.”
We dutifully followed him to the workstation to peruse the thick set of blueprints. I did my best to keep my eyes on the renderings and pay attention as he outlined his ideas to create a farm-to-table bistro featuring locally grown produce and meats. He was passionate and enthusiastic, and he’d obviously done his homework.
After a fifteen-minute presentation on paper, Levi took us through the construction zone. He pointed out the architectural highlights and explained the proposed layout.
“…glass and reclaimed wood behind the bar. The pass-through here will give this section of the restaurant a peek into the kitchen, which I know may be reminiscent of the diner, but I think it’ll work well here too. I ordered the tables, barstools, and banquet seating with help from a friend, but I still need to look into lighting.”
Wes nodded appreciatively when Levi paused to take a breath. “You’re moving full steam ahead.”
“I admit I could use help, but I’m excited to give this a go. I think a farm-to-table establishment with a Spanish California flair and a working relationship with an internationally acclaimed winery is a no-brainer in this area. In fact, I think it’ll kick ass,” Levi said with a Cheshire cat grin.
“I think so too,” Wes agreed. “What about you, Geordie?”
“I like it. But the accents and details are important. And I’m not just talking about a top-notch chef. Lighting can make or break a business too and then of course, there are things you wouldn’t think of like—”
“Fonts,” he supplied.
Our eyes locked, and my heart flipped in my chest. I had to say something fast, or Wes would get the wrong idea. Hell, I’d get the wrong idea.
“Yeah. Menu things are important,” he replied in a husky tone.
“Honestly, I think it’s going to be a hit. I’m impressed. And a bit surprised,” I teased.
“Thanks,” Levi replied. He politely glanced at both of us, but his gaze lingered on mine and…fuck, I couldn’t look away.
Wes squeezed my elbow and inclined his head toward Levi. “Thank you for the tour. If you’re interested in a partnership, we’d like to invest. The scale is up to you. We can leave it at an exclusive contract to serve our wines only, or we can go further and offer professional expertise and financial backing. You don’t need to answer now. Think about it. I’ll get back to you next week. But uh…we should go now. I promised Nick I’d be home soon so um—Geordie, can you give me five minutes?”
I almost rolled my eyes. That had to be the worst segue ever. “Certainly.”
Levi hooked his thumbs at Wes’s retreating back and squinted. “That last part didn’t really make sense.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I asked him to give me a few minutes alone with you.”
Levi cocked his head curiously as though he was trying to read my mind. “Okay. Let me take you home.”
“Thank you, but this will only take a moment and…I didn’t see your truck outside anyway,” I said in a breezy tone that contrasted wildly with my thundering heartbeat.
“I didn’t bring my truck today.”
“Oh. Well, I’m definitely not getting on the back of a Harley.”
“I don’t have a Harley,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Did you sell it?”
“No. I’ve never owned a motorcycle at all.”
I set my hands on my hips and gave him a baffled look. “You said you did. You had a helmet with you the first time I met you. And I distinctly recall you asking if I rode because it sounded dirty as hell. In a sexy way,” I grudgingly admitted. “Not that I’d ever ride on one of those things. I wouldn’t. But I have a fabulous memory. You and the helmet and the urban cowboy scenario happened. You can’t say it didn’t.”