In Good Company: Chapter 8

I take one final drink of my bourbon before setting it on the table. “I should probably get going,” I tell the men gathered around the table.

“Stay a little longer,” Jude counters, taking a puff of his cigar.

I shake my head before standing up. “Can’t tonight. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Jude laughs. “Can’t make any promises.”

Beckham Sinclair, someone I’ve gotten closer to in the last year, leans forward and places his hand on Jude’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cal, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“He needs it.” I love Jude. I’m closer to him than I am my own brother. He works hard and is damn good at what he does, but he enjoys having fun—sometimes a little too much. Unless he’s sitting in a board meeting, he isn’t taking life too seriously.

Jude smiles as he shakes his head. He pretends to be offended by my words, but the forced frown doesn’t linger on his lips for very long. “I’m not stupid. I don’t need anyone babysitting me. Not like hotshot Ryker over here.” Jude lifts an eyebrow, staring right at our friend Ryker, daring him to respond.

“Oh, fuck you,” Ryker responds, glaring across the room where his so-called “babysitter” is watching him from the bar. “My dad will stop being an asshole any day now, and I’ll ditch her.”

Ryker is known to be more reckless than Jude. He’s made one too many bad decisions recently, which has reflected poorly on the Davenport empire. His dad hired Camille’s father’s PR firm to help clean up after the mess Ryker’s made. As his publicist, Camille has been assigned to spend the summer with Ryker to ensure he doesn’t make any more of a mess. Ryker is less than thrilled with the setup.

I turn from the table and walk away while they continue their conversation, otherwise I’d be here all night. Jude and Ryker are very similar. They would argue for hours about which one of them needs to be babysat.

I keep my head down as I walk the halls of Pembroke to the front entrance. Leaving the club can take an hour sometimes because of the number of people you run into. Everyone wants to stop and talk business, disguising it as shooting the shit. Typically, I tolerate it, but right now, all I want to do is get home.

The fact that Lucy still hasn’t accepted my offer is bothering me. It’s eating away at me more than it should. I offered her double what Thomas did. I gave her an unlimited budget for kitchen supplies and ingredients. I tracked her down at her job to try and convince her again that the best choice for her is to work for me. Nothing has worked, and I can’t move past it. I’m stewing over her refusal to just accept my offer and coming up with another plan to make her say yes when I hear my name being called.

The front entryway to Pembroke is bustling with members. I look up and follow the sound of the voice, meeting the eyes of the woman who’s been on my mind for the last week. Lucy gives me a timid smile. She anxiously twists her hands in front of her. “Can I talk to you?”

I cock my head to the side, wondering why she looks so nervous. “Sure.”

“Okay.” She looks down at her feet for a moment. “Do you have time? We could go for a quick walk?”

I nod, too interested in why she sought me out to refuse her. “You have my attention.” My hand hovers over the small of her back as I guide her toward the door. “After you.”

Lucy doesn’t hesitate. She turns and walks out the front entrance. It’s a lot busier now than it was when Jude and I first showed up earlier this afternoon. I ignore the curious gazes from familiar faces as I fall into step next to Lucy.

“Have you filled the private chef position yet?” she asks, her eyes trained ahead.

“You mean, have I filled it in the few hours since I last saw you?”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a moment as we walk along the wide sidewalk of the country club grounds. To our right is the golf pro shop and the start of the course, where golf carts are neatly lined up. We head in that direction, following the path that’ll eventually take us to the back of the club and the private beach.

“No, I haven’t filled the position yet,” I tell her, trying to keep my eyes pinned ahead instead of staring at her.

“You haven’t?”

My heart picks up speed by the smallest amount at the excitement in her voice. Maybe she’s rethinking her decision.

“Playing this cat-and-mouse game has been far too entertaining for me to give up that easily.”

“Okay,” she mutters, her hands still twisting nervously in front of her with each step she takes.

We pass the spa, neither one of us paying attention to the people walking past us.

“I’m assuming you tracking me down means you’ve changed your mind.” My words come out more as a statement than a question. I can tell that I’ve finally won. I just need to hear it from her.

Lucy stops and turns her body to face me. “I’m more open to accepting the position now than I was when you first offered it, that’s for sure.”

I can’t help but let a corner of my lip lift. I tuck my hands in my pockets, resisting the surprising urge to reach between us and tuck the strand of her hair that sticks to her freshly glossed lips behind her ear. I don’t know why I feel the need to find some kind of physical connection to her, but I know it’s best I don’t act on it right now. I need to focus on getting her to finally agree to the job.

I fight a smile, thinking it’s kind of cute that she’s trying to pretend she doesn’t want the job when I know she wouldn’t have taken the time to track me down if she wasn’t planning on taking it.

“More open?” I press. “What do you still need convincing of?”

Lucy sighs. She nervously twists a strand of her hair around her fingertip as her eyes dart around. “I need to know more details. What are the days? You said the pay would be double what Mr. Boucher offered, but you don’t even know what he offered. What if double is too much for you to pay?”

The smirk falls from my face. I push my shoulders back and cock my head to the side. I try not to be offended that she thinks any number would be too much for me to pay. “Name any price and it’s yours, Lucy. I assure you, I can afford it.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she mulls over my words. A few moments pass before her brown eyes lock with mine again. “What days would you need me?”

“I’d love five days a week. The days might shift a little depending on the week. Sometimes I host parties, sometimes I don’t. But no matter what, you will get two days a week off. I want to make sure of that.”

She nervously wipes her palms along the pleats of her skirt. My gaze lingers for a moment longer than it should where the skirt ends, revealing the sun-kissed skin of her thighs. I swallow, trying not to spend too much time wondering how soft that exposed skin is. I pull my gaze to hers just in time for her to take a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak. “How far ahead will I know the schedule? That way, I can pick up shifts here at Pembroke on those days.”

My lips press into a thin line. Being a private chef is a lot of work. It’s early mornings and sometimes late nights. There’s no way I’m going to allow her to use the two days off she gets a week to work even more. “You won’t need to work at the club on your days off. You’re to use them as rest days.”

Lucy folds her arms across her chest as she looks up at me with a defiant glint in her eye. “I’ll have to talk with my boss. I don’t want to suddenly quit and leave them down a staff member during the busy season.”

“Speak with Loretta, then,” I offer. I know they won’t have any trouble finding a replacement for her. Pembroke is one of the most prestigious country clubs in the country. One of the hardest to become a member of. Because of that, there’s probably a long list of people who’d love to take Lucy’s job. And if it’s an issue, I’ll arrange a solution.

She rakes her top teeth over her bottom lip, contemplating my words. We’re close enough that I can see a small splatter of freckles underneath her thin layer of makeup. I don’t remember seeing them last week, but then again, it was dark when we were reunited. The new freckles make a constellation along her cheekbones. I want to get closer so I can study every single one of them, something that takes me by surprise and elicits a foreign feeling in my chest.

Someone calls my name from afar, but I ignore whoever it is. I keep my attention firmly on Lucy, eager to finally get her to accept my job offer. “Any other excuses you’d like to use, or are you ready to accept my offer? We both know it’s the best thing for you, Lucy.”

“How do you know what’s best for me? You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to, but you’re making it rather difficult.”

A small gasp falls from her lips at my response. I don’t say anything else, letting my words hang in the air between us.

Finally, her cheeks puff out as she lets out a long breath. When her eyes find mine, it’s obvious she’s out of excuses. “As long as Loretta is fine with it, then I’ll take the job. But I can only work until the week before Labor Day. I’d like to take a week off to enjoy the Hamptons one final time before I leave.”

I can’t help but wonder what she means by final. Does she not plan on ever returning back here?

“That’s fine with me.” The season typically ends around Labor Day, anyway.

Lucy focuses on a group of women walking out to the tennis courts. They all laugh loudly at something their tennis instructor said. She continues to watch them as they make their way to the courts, the sound of their voices and laughter getting further away with each passing second.

With her attention on the group, I use the opportunity to rake my gaze over her. The sun reflects off her dark, shiny locks of hair. Despite having worked a full shift at Pembroke, her hair is smooth. I want to run my fingers through the strands. For just a moment, I let my eyes linger on her lips. They’re shiny from lip gloss, making it impossible not to wonder what she’d taste like if I leaned in and took her lips in mine.

I blink, shoving the thought far from my mind. I don’t know where the idea came from in the first place.

Finally, Lucy looks back at me. Her lips pull into a shy smile as she smooths out the pleats of her skirt. “Then I accept your job offer, Callahan Hastings.”

I hold my hand out, and she timidly places her cold hand in mine. I wrap my fingers around hers, shaking her hand a few times. I try to fight the thought nagging in my mind…it feels right to hold her hand in mine.

Lucy blushes at the contact of our skin. Fuck. Why do I love the specific shade of pink her cheeks turn so much? Her glossed lips spread into a wide smile. “Then it’s settled. But only if you call me Cal.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “What if I prefer to call you Callahan?”

I give one curt shake of my head. “You don’t. You just like pretending you do to get on my nerves.”

Her fingers twitch against mine before she pulls her hand free. Our handshake lasted longer than it needed to, but I couldn’t let go. Not until she did. I can’t explain why, but I wanted to feel her skin against mine as long as she’d let me.

“That would be very unprofessional of me,” she whispers, her cheeks getting pinker by the second.

I smirk. It’s adorable how she thinks she wants to play the game, but she can’t fully follow through. “If you insist on calling me Callahan, so be it. But just know, I’d much prefer you call me Cal.”

My words make her smile. “Before we do anything more than shake on it, are you sure you don’t want me to do a test cook for you first? What if you hate everything I make other than what I prepared at Laurent’s party?”

I scoff. “You’re talented, Lucy. I don’t think I could ever hate anything you do.” I cock my head toward the path. “Let’s keep walking, and we’ll talk more details.”

She doesn’t argue. We spend the next hour walking around the grounds at Pembroke and discussing the details of her new position. I think I’m going to enjoy having her around more. She’s different. Who I am doesn’t seem to matter to her, and that’s incredibly refreshing.