Page 28 of Unconventionally, Elle

"Of course," he replied. "And you, sir?" he asked, his pen ready to write down Barrett's order.

"The rib eye, medium rare." Barrett handed him his menu as well.

I savored my smooth, briny martini as the server walked away. As I was about to speak, Barrett started to ask me a question.

"Oh, sorry. You first." He smiled and gestured for me to continue.

"Oh, it's nothing. I was just gonna say, I don't know much about you, Barrett Henry."

"There's not much to tell." He chuckled. "Born and raised in Boston. My family has been here since the revolution, and..."

"Oh my God, wait. Were they here for the Tea Party?" I asked, overexcited.

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, the Henrys were here when the tea was thrown into the harbor."

My eyes went wide and my lips curved into an enormous smile. "That is the coolest thing I've ever heard. Please tell me that's your interesting fact whenever you meet people?"

He laughed again and then shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Okay, so your family is Boston royalty. Any other fun facts?"

He quirked his mouth. "How about you tell me a fun fact first? Emma told me you moved here from New Orleans..."

I sighed and then took a quick drink of my cocktail. "Well, if you must know, I'm originally from New York."

His eyebrows lifted as he nursed his scotch. "A New York girl, huh? Interesting."

"Yep. My grandparents raised me, so I lived with them in New York. We actually used to come to Boston quite often when I was young. The condo I have now is the condo they left me in their wills."

I saw understanding dawn on him. His mouth parted slightly, but he stayed silent as I continued with my story.

"Here's my fun fact. My grandmother was also a writer, Grandma Di. And she won the exact same writing competition that I am trying to win."

"No way!" He leaned closer with his drink in his hand. "That's some family legacy stuff right there. Your grandma was Boston literary royalty, then." He winked.

I shrugged. "Eh, I don't know about that. She won, but she never went through with the publishing. She decided to live in New York City with my grandfather and become a mother and housewife. She left her writing dreams behind in Boston."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up an unpleasant memory," he said softly.

"No, no. It's fine," I lied. "It was her choice, not mine. I can't be mad at her for her decisions. Hell, if she didn't do that, I wouldn't be here, right?" I winked at him this time. "But yeah, okay, New Orleans. I was there for about ten years working in the financial sector. I quit in May."

"You quit? After ten years? What happened?" He leaned forward in his chair and crossed his arms on the table, mindlessly swirling his scotch.

"There was a situation with my boss, and he didn't appreciate or respect me very much even though I'd dedicated so much of my life and efforts to the company.

I don't know, I just kind of broke, ya know?

I realized I was miserable and that maybe I could be happy somewhere else.

" I looked at Barrett from under my eyelashes, waiting to hear his response. I wasn't disappointed.

"Actually, I get that. Good for you on leaving, and fuck them for treating you like shit.

" His passion charmed me, and a thin smile spread on my face.

"So, you asked for another fun fact, but this isn't so fun.

" He brought his scotch to his lips again.

"I don't know if you've heard, but my dad is quite the mogul in this area.

" Sitting up straight now, he scratched the back of his head with his other hand.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah?"

"Well, Finn told me your family owns a bunch of real estate and not to piss you guys off." I shrugged nonchalantly and sat back in my chair, smiling at him.

"Finn happens to be right. Except it's not me and Emma you have to worry about--it's my father.

" He gave his head a small shake, as if clearing his thoughts.

"Anyways, in my family, the sons work with their father and eventually take over the company.

Our business has been in the family for decades, and it's expected that I take over the company after my dad. "

"That sounds good though, right?" I asked.

"I know I should say yes. I know that's the right answer and what most people would say, but"--he hesitated before finding my gaze--"I don't want to work for him. I don't want to be a part of the Henry corporation."

Sympathy flooded my system. I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his.

"I get it. It's hard when you want to do something for yourself when others expect you to do or want something else.

" He was staring at our hands, and I felt a tingle radiate through my fingers.

He carefully flipped his palm over, curled his fingers, and held mine gently in his. "So what do you want to do?"

He chuckled lightly and then looked up from our hands. "I want to teach people how to sail." His ears were turning red, and he looked back down at the table.

"Teach people to sail?" I asked. Then, noticing his tense shoulders, I continued. "That sounds like an amazing dream job if I've ever heard one."

His head whipped up and he studied my face with inquisitive eyes. Maybe he thought I was being sarcastic. But I wasn't. I was all in for Barrett Henry, the dreamer. "You mean that, huh?" he asked with a furrowed brow and the slightest grin.

"I think you know the answer." I smiled radiantly at him and lifted my glass. "To the dreamers who dream and the ones who never give up."

He lifted his glass to mine and responded with an enthusiastic grin, "To the dreamers."