Page 39 of Cooking Up My Comeback

“Right. Professional.”

“Absolutely professional,” I agree, attacking the wall with renewed vigor. “Nothing but business between us business partners who are definitely not attracted to each other.”

“Amber.”

“What? I’m just agreeing with you. We’re colleagues. Associates. Two people working toward a common goal with absolutely no personal feelings involved whatsoever.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being professional! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He sets down his hammer and turns to face me fully. “What I want is for you to stop putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m not putting words anywhere. I’m just respecting the boundaries you so clearly established.”

“What boundaries?”

“The ones where this is just business and I’m reading too much into things and you don’t look at me any particular way.”

We’re standing close enough now that I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw, can see the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“You want to know how I look at you?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

“I think you made it pretty clear that I was imagining things.”

“You weren’t imagining anything. I do look at you. I look at you and think about things that have nothing to do with business partnerships or restaurant construction.”

My breath catches. “Brett...”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that this”—he gestures between us—“is complicated. And complications ruin partnerships. So yes, I’m trying to keep things professional. I’m trying to protect what we’re building here.”

“By pretending there’s nothing between us?”

“By not letting whatever this is derail the most important thing either of us has ever built.”

I stare at him, seeing the conflict in his expression, the way he’s fighting himself.

“What if it doesn’t have to be either-or?” I ask softly. “What if we can build something amazing and still acknowledge that there’s something between us?”

“Because that always works out so well.”

“Not always. But sometimes. Sometimes the best partnerships are the ones where people care about each other.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and I can see him wrestling with something.

“I can’t lose this, Amber,” he says finally. “I can’t lose what we’re building here. It matters too much.”

“You won’t lose it. We won’t lose it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. But I know that pretending we don’t have feelings for each other isn’t going to make them go away. It’s just going to make everything weird and tense.”

“Everything’s already weird and tense.”

I laugh. “True. But at least now we’re being honest about why.”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and tired and more human than he has all morning.