In Good Company: Chapter 13

Cal hasn’t moved since I ran out of the kitchen to fetch wine. I probably should’ve asked him if it was okay for me to grab a bottle in the first place, but I was too surprised by his question to think straight. Plus, he made it clear where the wine room was when I needed to serve it with dinner. After dinner still counts…I think.

I set the cheapest bottle of wine I could find on the counter—even though I know it’s still so expensive that I’d never be able to afford it myself. It doesn’t take me long to open the bottle.

“Would you like a glass?” I ask, my words coming out faster than I intended.

Cal smirks. “Of course.”

I nod, grabbing two wine glasses from the cabinet and pouring us each a hefty serving of wine.

My hands shake a little from nerves as I take them to the table and return to my seat.

It must be obvious how nervous I am because he sits forward and puts his hand over mine to comfort me. “You don’t have to tell me.” His words are said low and slow, as if he doesn’t want to say them but knows it’s the right thing to do.

I shake my head and let out a long sigh. “It’s fine. I’m just being dramatic.” I lift the glass to my lips and take a large gulp of wine…and then take another.

He watches me with a curious look on his face as I drink about half the glass before finally mustering up the courage to answer his question. “I’d love to get my recipes out to more people. Nothing would make me happier than to know other people are cooking up recipes I came up with.”

“So you record them?” he asks. He leans forward, his thick fingers wrapped delicately around his wineglass as he pays close attention to me.

A laugh bubbles out from inside me. “I try. It turns out I have a little bit of stage fright. Every time I try to record myself, I clam up and can’t think straight.”

“Could you share photos?” he offers before taking a drink of his wine. His barely has a dent in it, while mine is already more than halfway gone.

“According to my friend Charlotte—who is way better at anything online than I am—video content is where it’s at. I’m just terrible at it.”

I shift awkwardly in my chair, trying not to think too much about the fact he saw me making a fool out of myself trying to record tonight. I wish he’d say something, but instead, he stays quiet, just giving me more time to get more and more embarrassed by the whole thing.

I set my glass of wine down and cover my face with my hands, letting out a long whine. “It’s silly, I know. Videos or no videos, no one’s ever going to see what I post. My recipes are meant for me to make, and that’s okay.”

I’m so lost in my own pity party—or maybe it’s an embarrassment party—to realize he’s left his chair. His fingers softly wrap around my wrists as he pulls my hands from my face.

“It isn’t silly,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

My heart hammers in my chest, but it isn’t because of embarrassment. It’s because Callahan Hastings is standing so close to me I can feel his breath against my cheeks. I can see the different blues of his eyes, how they’re darker around the iris and lighter around the middle.

Why does he have to smell so good?

Why am I learning that dark hair and light eyes might be my kryptonite?

Did he just look at my lips?

My mouth suddenly feels dry. I sweep my tongue across my bottom lip to wet it, all too aware of the sudden proximity between Cal and me.

He must realize it at the same time because with one quick movement, he’s back in his chair across the table from me.

Cal takes a large drink of wine. I sit, trying to process what just happened. Why did my body react like that to Cal? He’s my ex-boyfriend’s brother…and more importantly, he’s my boss. He shouldn’t make my heart race. Not like that. I don’t know if anyone’s ever made my heart race like that just by a simple touch and standing close to me.

I shake my head to clear myself of the thoughts. My heart rate was up because I was nervous. That’s the only reason.

I’m grateful for the music I put on before beginning to cook. At least because of the record player, we aren’t left in complete silence as we both sip on our wine.

Cal clears his throat. “You shouldn’t feel silly for wanting to share your recipes with the world. They’re amazing and deserve to be enjoyed by people everywhere.”

“I haven’t even been cooking for you for a week. Maybe I’ve just gotten lucky.”

He lets out a grunt of disapproval, making his feelings about my comment known. “I’ve had countless people cook for me, Lucy. I know talent when I see it, and you have it. I knew it from the meal at Laurent’s. Why do you think I was so adamant about you ditching private events to work for me exclusively?”

I shrug as I bite back a smile. “Maybe you just felt bad for me.”

He scoffs. “I’m not known to do things from the goodness of my heart, Lucy. I’m strategic. I act on logic and what will benefit me. While the decision to ask you to be my private chef was a little hastier than I typically am, I did it because I hated the thought of you using your talent on anyone else but me this summer.”

I swallow, his words having more of an effect on me than I was expecting. He uses every opportunity he gets to point out that he isn’t sweet or thoughtful, yet he says things like that? Cal has more of a heart than he thinks he does; you just have to read between the lines a little to find it.

At least, that’s what I think. It’s still a little early to tell.

“You should post the videos. Who gives a fuck about what anyone else thinks?”

I laugh before picking up my wine and polishing off the glass. “I care about what others think. Plus, I haven’t even been able to stop stammering enough to even complete an entire recipe video to share in the first place.”

“What about when you described the recipe perfectly to Jude? You didn’t fumble over your words once. You had him locked in, and that asshole hasn’t cooked a day in his life.”

I gasp. “What?” Jude seemed so interested.

Cal rolls his eyes. “He was flirting with you. You were excited to tell him about it. Of course he pretended to care.”

My body heats at Cal’s words. It isn’t because he talks about Jude. I haven’t gotten to know Jude very well yet, but it’s clear that flirting is just a personality trait of his. No, what makes my skin flush is the way Cal’s eyes darken when speaking about his best friend flirting with me. It almost seems like it’s jealousy, but I know it can’t be that. Right?

“So, why can you tell Jude so easily but not the camera?” His voice is tight. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to answer.

I anxiously chew on my lip, trying to come up with an answer that doesn’t sound ridiculous. The truth is, I don’t know why it’s easy for me to tell someone how to prepare a meal step-by-step in person. There’s something about talking to myself while the camera records that makes me freeze.

I lift my shoulder in a shrug, feeling like I’m under a microscope with his intense gaze. “I don’t know, Cal,” I get out with a sigh. “There’s just something about teaching someone who’s there with you rather than teaching a person you can’t see.”

He runs his fingertips along his jawline. For some reason, I want to know what his stubble feels like against my skin. Would it scratch my skin, or is it soft?

“Then record yourself teaching someone.”

I’m so deep in wondering what his stubble would feel like that I don’t even process his words until a few moments after he’s said them.

“What?” I ask. I sit up straighter in my chair, wondering what he means.

“Teach someone the recipe, walk them through it, and just happen to press Record while you’re doing it. Maybe then it’ll feel more comfortable.”

I smile as I mull over his words. “Your idea isn’t terrible.”

This makes him laugh. I love the sound of it. It’s deep and throaty and feels like a caress against my skin. “You’re so sweet, yet it’s so hard to get a compliment from you.”

My entire body feels flushed under his gaze. I blame it on the wine. Things are meant to be professional. I’m the one who told him it was unprofessional for me to take the job in the first place. I’d be a huge hypocrite if my body was warming under his icy blue gaze.

It’s the wine, Lucy.

“I give plenty of compliments,” I offer, twisting the end of my ponytail around my finger. “Plus, it’s rich for you to say that. Do you ever give compliments?”

Cal shifts his body in the chair. His legs are so long that his leg accidentally bumps against mine under the table. “Should I be offended you think so low of me? I’ve complimented your cooking plenty of times.”

My mouth snaps shut. He’s right. I narrow my eyes on him as I attempt to hide the upward curve of my lips. “You’re right.”

He winks.

My stomach tightens.

I realize that despite his hard, grumpy exterior, he’s extremely charming. And that charm is working on me.

“I’m always right,” he points out as he stands up. “About time you realized that.”

I roll my eyes, following his lead and grabbing our empty plates. His arm softly brushes against mine as he reaches for the empty wine glasses. “It’s impossible for anyone to always be right.”

“Fine. I’m right almost all of the time.” He follows me into the kitchen. I set the plates in the sink and look around to determine how much of a mess I made. I try to keep my workspace as clean as possible when preparing a meal, but it’s impossible to keep everything pristine.

It’s quiet for a few seconds as we both get lost in our own thoughts.

I enjoyed tonight. I enjoyed spending time with Cal, something I never thought I’d say. There’s more to him than I thought. He’s got layers, layers I’d love to peel back and learn about, even though I know that isn’t the most professional desire.

“Thanks for not letting me eat alone tonight.” My voice is quiet and rushed, not sounding anywhere near as confident as I hoped it would be.

“Thanks for the meal. It was delicious. And it was nice to have a normal conversation and not talk about business for once.”

“Didn’t you golf all day? Is that really all business?”

Cal lifts a shoulder as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Everything is business here, Lucy.”

I pull my gaze from his and focus on the sink in front of me. I turn the water to its hottest setting, letting it rinse the plates and utensils in the sink before I soap them. “I’m happy to not talk business with you anytime.”

He smiles wide and freely, the gesture even reaching his eyes. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

We stare at each other for a few moments, both of us locked in the moment. He’s the one to look away first. He pulls out his phone and looks at something on the screen for a moment before looking back at me.

“I’ve got to get back to the club. See you in the morning.”

I smile. “See you then.”

He doesn’t say anything else before leaving. The moment he’s out of view, I let out a dramatic breath, grabbing onto the edge of the countertop to steady myself on my feet.

I tell myself the reason I’m feeling light-headed is because of the hefty glass of wine. It wasn’t because of the butterflies that took flight in my stomach at Cal’s wide smile.

It absolutely wasn’t that. Right?