Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers 1)
“I’ll touch base next Tuesday.”
“Thank you.” I hang up and blow out a frustrated breath. My head pounds and I swear this day can’t end soon enough. When I get home, Runner and I are going on a long walk before I sink into the tub and lock away the world.
It’s been three days since I saw Pierce, but it feels like three minutes. The familiarity and comfort of being in his arms still surrounds me, and every night when I close my eyes, his face fills my mind. That kiss… that damn kiss…
Why didn’t I stop it sooner? How did I end up draped around him like a horny tramp? Stephanie was right; there’s no denying we still have a connection that scorches in my blood. But having a connection isn’t going to erase the past, and it’s best to remember that.
I go around to the trunk to grab the cooler and make my way into the restaurant where Mr. Rosen is waiting.
“Darby, I am glad you’re here.” He takes the cooler and ushers me through the restaurant to the kitchen.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity. Hopefully, it will work out.”
He beams and shows me to an area where he’s cleaned off a table for me to set up a dessert tray display.
A few good things did come out of the clash with Pierce on Sunday. When he was gone and I finally calmed down, I knew the only way to keep sane was to stay busy. As soon as Stephanie left, I took my laptop and all my notes and walked over to Mom’s, where we proceeded to fill my week up to levels of craziness. I called Mr. Rosen, and instead of meeting him today, we talked through a proposal where I’d come in and actually provide a personalized set-up of a few items for him to sell as specialty desserts tonight. It isn’t a customary arrangement, but it gives me a chance to test what may do best with their clientele.
Between preparing for this, my regular daily quotas, and the added bonuses we promised to a few prospects, I’ve been working like crazy. Not to mention, Mom said invoices were being paid immediately because no one wanted to be dropped from my schedule for lack of payment.
This is good. It’s the perfect distraction to keep me busy. And tonight may finally be the night I’ve pushed myself to exhaustion.
“What can I do to help?” he offers in an overly excited chirp. His wife was right; this man is thrilled to have my creations in his restaurant tonight. A small sense of pride rushes through me, and I point to the oversized bag I dropped on the end of the table.
“Grab the silver stands and the folder. I printed table cards with the descriptions of the desserts and the prices you set.”
He does as I ask, sliding the cards into the swirly designed place-card holders. The display comes together beautifully, and he calls a few of the kitchen crew over for me to explain how to serve the desserts with specific toppings and sauces.
When I’m done, the head chef helps me unload my cooler and puts everything where he wants.
“How about a drink?” Mr. Rosen offers.
“I’ll take some coffee.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
We go back through the restaurant to the bar, and while he gets our coffee, I take the time to appreciate the décor. This is what’s considered a fine dining establishment in Charleston, and the interior highlights the old-style architecture. I’ve known the Rosen family for most of my life, but he didn’t open this specific restaurant until I was in Charlotte.
“Have you ever eaten here?” He slides a mug in front of me.
“Unfortunately, no. You opened after I moved, and when I come home, we prefer to do things low key at my parents’ house. But I’d love to come for dinner one night.”
“Any night you want. You don’t even have to call ahead, just show up and tell the hostess you are my special guest. Anything you order is on the house.”
“Not necessary, but I will be dining here soon.”
He smiles gently and asks me the normal things about my business. I do the same, and pretty soon, we’re on the subject of family. Mrs. Rosen had done a good job of updating me on their family on Friday night, but I listen intently as he brags about his grandchildren.
His face grows serious, and I brace myself for the question coming. “Did you ever want children, Darby?”
“I did. I still do. It hasn’t happened yet.”
He nods solemnly, and his eyes shoot over my shoulder, growing wide in recognition. I feel the presence behind me, but when I hear the voice, my stomach plummets.
“Darby?”
I twirl in my seat, coming face to face with Jill, Warren, and Miller Kendrick. Jill looks incredibly stylish in her navy jumpsuit. Then I notice Warren and Miller are not wearing their standard jeans and Kendrick Construction shirts. They’re dressed up as well.