Page 41 of Best Laid Plans (Rock Harbor #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ELLE
E lle knew when she nailed an interview. It was the same feeling she got when she hit a perfect backhand down the line or when she managed to tweeze her eyebrows evenly.
She’d gelled well with the team–and Dan Reynolds, whom she’d interviewed with last, had all but told her that they’d be extending an offer shortly.
The project was for at least a year with a very likely possibility of extension, focusing on competitive intelligence, market research, and supply chain efficiency.
An undisclosed chain in New York City was looking into expanding into the Boston market, and she’d be responsible for managing the transition and ultimately, the rollout of the new to-be-determined number of locations, depending on how her analysis proved out.
It was well-and-truly the opportunity of a lifetime, at least career-wise.
On top of that, Reynolds Consulting did actually put its weight behind sustainability and climate-change initiatives.
During her MBA program, she’d done a project on their holistic approach, which had allowed them to fill a niche market in the over-saturated consulting space.
So, why wasn’t she positively bounding down the balmy Boston sidewalk in celebration of her achievement?
Mostly, she was thinking about the fact that she’d forgotten how hot it could get here, surrounded by tall buildings as she traversed the too-narrow streets.
She unbuttoned the top button on her blouse and fanned at her damp skin, mulling over the strange, slightly queasy feeling in her stomach that had no business being there.
She hadn’t slept well last night. That was probably it.
How could she, after the bomb her parents had dropped at dinner?
Of course it was hard to focus on her own future when she was watching her parents’ be stripped away from them.
They were seriously considering selling Pierce’s Lobster Co.
–to Heads & Tails, no less. If there was ever an arch-nemesis for Elle to foil, it was that overzealous chain that she could just feel had soggy bottomed bread and used more filler in their seafood than any restaurant that actually had self-respect or valued their craft.
That Instagrammable wall that attracted day-trippers by the droves was the equivalent of putting lipstick on a pig, as far as she was concerned.
So what , if all of those ideas were great business initiatives.
When she thought about Heads & Tails, she wasn’t Elle Pierce, MBA.
She was Ellie, who’d grown up living above a restaurant that her parents worked at tirelessly, weathering seafood shortages and overlapping sports schedules and–ugh–enough stinky socks that they’d probably had their own line on the budget that her mom had kept tirelessly through their adolescence.
She hated feeling this way, her body and her mind in jagged opposition.
She shook her head forcefully, some of her hair sticking to the back of her neck.
It had been cooler this morning, when she’d gone into the interview.
Now, the sun was high in the sky, and she could see the throngs of people beginning to spill out of office buildings like ants marching in a line.
Toward the T. Or toward parking lots if they could afford the exorbitant daily fees to drive all the way into the city.
Then, there were the lucky few who lived within walking distance of work, which Elle had once had when she and Chelsea’d lived together.
But all she had to show for that was a zero account balance, a broken heart, and a ruined ‘friendship.’ It didn’t really scream convenience in retrospect.
Elle had parked just outside of the city in one of the free lots, grateful she’d been able to find her old metro card in her wallet late last night.
She was only a few minutes from the station that would take her back to her car, and she wondered whether she should try to do something while she was here, given that it had been her home for the last five years.
Except… she couldn’t think of anything that she wanted to do. Jarred by the realization, she stopped on the sidewalk and almost went tumbling with the steady crush of bodies following behind her.
When she’d lived in Boston, she and Chelsea and Grant had used to do aggressively cool things, like go out for too-expensive dinners (at least for her) and drink more than she should on a work night, something her early twenties body had been able to handle.
And her last two years had been spent schlepping between campus and her apartment, projects and reading and studying for which there was no end.
Now? She wanted…
What did she want? The answers to that thought solidified in her mind.
Cam and his delicious omelettes. Wyatt and his annoying banter.
Curling up on Becca’s sofa with Zoe nestled in her lap, playing with the five-year-old’s short ponytail while Elle lamented about her life to her best friend and caught up on the banal comings-and-goings of the hotel guests.
And then, at the end of it all… her heart did a little stutter-step, the staccato cadence pounding in her chest at the idea of falling into bed with Cam, his arms wrapped around her, their bodies tangled together as his warmth and solidness anchored her in place.
The sinking feeling in her stomach returned, more forcefully this time, threatening to collapse on itself and take the rest of her with it.
The realization froze her–again–and this time, a body really did slam into her from behind. “Watch where you’re going!”
She let out a sound of disgust and gave him an acerbic look, the man’s cloying cologne sticking to where he’d bumped into her.
There was a steady crowd of people pushing into the T station now, and resisting it was like trying to fight against the current. Finally, she let herself be pulled along, not knowing whether she was coming or going.
She practically burst through the door to Pierce’s Lobster Co., five minutes after they closed. It was just after eight p.m., and she’d accomplished more–at least mentally–in the last three hours than she’d ever thought possible.
Only, it all hinged on one man, whom she could see through the open window into the kitchen.
Cam . His hair was tousled after a long day, and he was studying something on the prep table seriously, his brows drawn close together.
They hadn’t spent any significant time alone since Tuesday, and even then, it hadn’t gone exactly the way she’d hoped.
Which had… sucked. To put it mildly. But she wasn’t going to let Cam’s brush off get in the way right now. She had bigger fish to fry.
“Sorry, we just closed,” he said without looking up.
Traitorous butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the sound of his voice, which she promptly tamped down on. That’s not why she was here.
“Just the man I was looking for,” Elle said in her most chipper-sounding voice as she made her way through the dining room, which had already been cleaned, the chairs set atop the tables .
Cam looked up then, catching her eye as she pushed through the door into the kitchen. “Elle?”
She wasn’t surprised by the questioning tone. The last time she’d seen him–when they’d all returned to the apartment after the family dinner–she and Wyatt had been so frenzied that they hadn’t even noticed that he’d slipped into his room.
She took a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you.”
Cam’s gaze fell to her chest, the button on her blouse still undone from the heat earlier.
Elle laughed, a pleased warmth soaking into her skin, even as she shook her head. “Not that kind of proposition.”
Did Cam just pout? God, that was so fucking cute she didn’t even know what to do with it.
Focus , Elle. She cleared her throat but left the button undone. She needed all the help that she could get right now. “I want to talk to you about the restaurant.”
His mouth twitched, and she watched as his fingers flexed against the metal prep table protectively. “What about it?”
She walked over and stood across from him, mirroring his pose. “Why not you?” she said without preamble.
Cam’s eyes narrowed, like he knew she was leading him into a trap but not exactly sure how. Smart man. “‘Why not me’ what?”
“If anyone should usher in the future of Pierce’s Lobster Co., it should be you. You should make an offer on the restaurant.” Elle had it all mapped out already, but she knew that too much too fast would just send Cam running.
His eyes flicked around the room before settling back on Elle, an impossibly dark green she’d never seen before.
“I don’t know, Elle. I feel like your dad would have mentioned it to me if that was something he was interested in pursuing.
” His voice was uncertain, but his words proved that maybe this was something that had crossed his own mind over the last day, too.
And most importantly, it wasn’t a no, and that’s all she needed right now to keep pushing.
“Think about it, Cam,” she implored, gesturing around the space.
“You want your own restaurant. My parents are thinking about selling anyway. You practically grew up here. Who would be a better fit for this than you?”
“I don’t think that I could make a competitive offer,” Cam said hoarsely, his palms now completely flat against the table.
This was a tennis match, and Elle was going to volley back every half-hearted attempt he made to dissuade her.