Page 124 of The Arrogant One

But while Eden was at Colson’s house, playing with Ellie, passing time until we got the news, and Beck was at an away game, and Walker was grinding it out in the kitchen of Charred LA, I was out to dinner with Sadie.

Our first official outing since she had confirmed she was Dear Foodie.

Our relationship was something else that wasn’t perfect, but I loved it just the way it was.

Perfectly flawed, perfectly beautiful, and perfectly ours.

It had taken a day or so for us to find ourfooting again. For the anger to completely leave my body. To be in her presence and not dig into the topic even deeper.

I understood.

But that didn’t mean I could completely let it go from my mind, that the situation wasn’t at the forefront and I wasn’t going to address it again.

Because being in love with Sadie and her alter ego presented a few challenges. I couldn’t ever tell my family what she did for a living. All they would know was that she was in social media. But that also meant my family would never receive another review from her after Toro—a shout-out maybe on her personal page, like we had gotten with the espresso martini in New York, but never a full write-up. And I’d have to listen to Walker bitch and moan about that, and I’d never be able to tell him why or do anything about it.

And I’d have to curb my jealousy when she loved a competing restaurant, the way I had bitten my tongue when she loved Horned, although the situation was now different.

But for her? It was so fucking worth it.

She was everything I wanted.

Everything I needed.

And, God, she was gorgeous.

Her hair was curled and hung around her face, her eyes rimmed with a sultry black color, her lips glossy—a lipstick she had reapplied tonight since she’d given me head on the way here—and a top that was cut into a V, dipping just low enough that there was a hint of her tits.

She took a bite of her dolmas, and while she chewed, she spoke behind her hand and said, “Every time your phone lights up, I hold my breath. Does Troy have any idea when he’s going to hear back from the owner? I’m dying here.”

She even spoke Weston language.

Because she listened to every goddamn thing I told her.

I chuckled. “We gave the owner until the end of the day, so, technically, she has until midnight, and that’s”—I glanced at my watch—“a little less than four hours away. We could have a long night ahead of us.”

“I can’t handle the suspense.” She smiled. “I want this for you.”

“Let me get your mind off it.” I normally never had my phone on the dinner table. Tonight was the exception, and I picked it up, scrolling until I found the email I was looking for. “Jenner—our attorney handling the real estate part of this venture—found us some incredible properties. I met with my family this morning, and we agreed on these. I want you to look at them and tell me your thoughts.” I handed her my phone, making sure no one was close by so I could talk freely. “The first two will be Horned restaurants—if we get it. One is in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and the other is in Charleston, South Carolina. The third and fourth are for future Toros, which will be in Tampa, Florida, and Austin, Texas.”

She pointed the screen at me, showing me the Tampa location. “I’m obsessed.”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

She tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear. “The way it’s sitting right on the Gulf. Ugh, I want to eat there immediately.”

“What do you think of the others?” When she glanced up, I added, “You know this business, and I value your opinion. I want you to be honest with me.” I wiped the sides of my mouth with my napkin. “We haven’t made any offers yet, so there’s still time to change our minds.”

She pointed at the Austin location while she flipped it toward me. “Another perfect one. Right on the river, which instantly makes me think of fresh. There’s something abouteating sushi and fish on the water that hits differently than an inland location.”

“Agreed.”

“But the other two need work.” She handed me my phone back and moved around in her seat. “Portsmouth and Charleston are eclectic cities. There’s a quirkiness about them, and in the restaurants I’ve been to in each place—ironically, I’ve been to both—the quirkiness shines while you’re dining there.” She gazed up, her stunning blue eyes focused on the ceiling. “Think of vaulted, church-like ceilings in Charleston with lots of metal, a theme that screams of the Prohibition era, where the decor builds the anticipation of the food. What you picked screams nothing to me at all.” Her gaze returned to mine.

I shook my head, impressed as hell. “Fuck, you’re good.”

“And in Portsmouth, I want to feel the New England charm, but I don’t want to drown in it.” She chewed the side of her light-pink thumbnail. “I don’t want lobster decor. I want it in my food. I want to feel quaint, but I want to be engulfed in character. That location is way too blah.”

I set my phone next to my plate and reached for her hand. “Will you come with me to look at the properties? I’m going to have Jenner pull new ones, and I would love for you to view them with me.”