I heard all he said, I really did.
But I was stuck at the beginning part where he told me I was the woman of his dreams.
And that made me feel so warm and gushy, I was mostly incapacitated.
So the best I could do was force out an, "Okay."
"Okay," he replied.
Then I forced out, "I'll be down in a minute."
He jerked his chin up.
Then he walked out.
I stared at the door. Then I did it a little while longer as I heard him moving around in the bedroom changing out of wet clothes. Then I did it for longer after he'd left the bedroom.
Then I toweled off, got dressed in loose-fitting, drawstring lounge pants, a camisole and a light hoodie and I went downstairs. Brock fed me grilled cheese and oven baked tater tots. It was really good, Brock grilled a mean cheese sandwich and the tater tots were baked perfectly, crispy on the outside, soft in the middle. Then I hung out in front of the TV curled into Brock until he sent the kids to bed at ten. Then I hung out longer, curled into Brock.
Then, finally, Brock took me to bed and spent more than a fair amount of effort in taking my day away.
He succeeded magnificently and I knew this because, seconds after he curled me into his arms when he was done expending this effort, I fell into a peaceful sleep filled with really, really good dreams.
Chapter Twenty.
I Take It I'm Movin' In
"I'm telling you girl, I think it's perfect," Martha declared from beside me in my car and she was right. It was perfect. Terrifyingly so.
We'd just come from viewing some space in Writer Square in LoDo. It was fabulous, great foot traffic, sandwiched between 16th Street Mall and Larimer Square, visibility from 15th Street and Larimer, sidewalk seating opportunity.
But the rent was a whack.
I was six months from paying off the business loan I got to open my first location so I knew how much it cost to set up a bakery. Location and setup costs were close to crippling.
One and one were equaling thousands.
It was just under three weeks since Brock suggested Martha be brought in to take the load off. I'd called her and discussed it the next day. She'd jumped at it, no hesitation. She loved the idea. And I knew she loved the idea for, upon sharing it with her, she screamed in my ear, "I frickin' love that idea! "
She had a good job and her pay was excellent, no way I could match it, but she said she'd take the hit for peace of mind and the opportunity to work close to my cakes. I promised a pay hike once the second location was up and going and turning a profit.
Oh, and of course, free cakes.
Martha put in notice and enrolled in accountancy classes the next day. I bought payroll software. I was going to save on outsourcing those and my business account was super healthy therefore, with both, I could easily absorb her additional salary, not to mention, that freed me up to make more cakes.
Still, my account balance wasn't so healthy I could start a new location without additional capital, though this wouldn't be a problem because my bank contacted me approximately one point seven times a month asking if I wanted a further loan. Then again, my loan manager had four kids, a husband, six brothers and sisters and the offspring they created and they all got birthday cakes from me so she knew I was a viable risk.
But I still needed a getaway with Brock and the boys. I had decided all-inclusive, five-star just because we deserved it and I had also decided I was going to pay for it just because Brock had lawyer bills and a cop's salary and, unfortunately, him and both of his sons had birthdays all sandwiched in the same week of the same month, this month February. This was a cruel twist of fate for anyone who had their names on their present list. This was also a perfect excuse for me to take them all on vacation without Brock going macho apeshit (hopefully).
"And I'm telling you, Martha, I don't know. The rent is pretty steep," I told her (again) as I wended my way through Cherry Creek North toward my shop. "Maybe we should look into something on The Mall or lower LoDo around My Brother's Bar?"
"I get where you're coming from but that location is Tessa's Cakes," she replied.
"Already, you're in Cherry Creek and that isn't exactly shantytown."
This was true. My rent for my current bakery was also a whack.
Martha kept going. "The Mall is out, it's cool but it's not Tessa's Cakes and lower LoDo is awesome but it isn't established awesome like Writer Square unless you're talking about Brother's or Paris on the Platte which are only established because they've been there yonks.
Not to mention, foot traffic is way less. Practically every shop in Writer Square is fabulous and they've all been there for years. And they have flair. You'll fit right in."
She was right about that, all of it.
Eek!
"Tessa," she went on and I could tell by her voice she was facing me and I could also tell by her voice she'd hit her "listen to me, I'm being deadly serious" mode, "your cakes don't say 16th Street Mall and they don't say lower LoDo. They say Larimer Square but you've nixed that because of the rent so the next best thing is Writer Square. This is perfect, honey.
This is you. "
She was right about that too. All of it.
Yikes.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea to hire someone who knew me and understood my vision.
Maybe it was scary.
Damn.
Oh well. Nighties and sanity were on the line. And I didn't hire Martha to do payroll and create schedules. I hired Martha to help me expand then to look after my vision when I did.
There was nothing for it.
"Okay, call them and tell them we want it."
"Yee ha! " she shrieked.
Dear God.
I pulled into the parking lot beside my bakery and parked in the spot that had the sign, "Reserved for Tessa, you park here, you don't get cake" on the building in front of it. Then I switched off the ignition. Then my phone rang.
Martha, holding my purse in her lap, dug through it, nosily looked at it and mumbled, "Bad boy hot guy," then handed me the phone and started to exit the car, finishing, "I'm gonna go make the call now."
Then she was gone.
I took Brock's call.
"Hey."
"Well?"
He knew I was viewing the location.
"It's fabulous," I answered his mostly unasked question.
"And?"
I grinned at my dash.
"My guess is, even though she was exiting my car with great haste while the phone was ringing with this call from you, still Martha's right now on the phone in the office with the landlord saying we'll take it."
Silence then, "Good, baby."
"I'm scared out of my mind, Brock," I admitted.
"Be stupid not to be, Tess," he replied, not in a whisper and I pulled in breath. "It's a risk but it's a risk worth taking. And it's a lot of work but it's work worth doing. It'll pay off, it'll pay off soon and then it's all about the nighties."
I started laughing softly then I stopped laughing softly and said quietly, "Yeah."
"We'll go out tonight, celebrate."
Well. There you go. This decision was seeming like the right one already.
"Sounds good."
"Not Lincoln's Road House meatloaf sandwiches celebrating. You in sexy heels and a short skirt celebrating," he clarified and I blinked at the dash because I'd never had sexy heels and short skirt fun with Brock. I'd had beer and pool table and plethora of neon signs on the walls fun with Brock plenty of times but never heels and short skirts.
Then I asked, "Really?"
To which he answered, "Absolutely."
"Okay," I whispered.
"I'll make a reservation and call you with the time."
"Okay," I repeated.
"Later, sweetness."
"Later, honey."
We disconnected and I tucked my phone into my purse, thinking about which heels I was going to wear with which short skirt, doing an about face on my earlier thoughts and congratulating myself on taking good advice from Brock because, since Martha started on Monday, already my time had been freed up. No schedules to do. No inventory to keep. No phone calls to pick up. And she helped out in front of the bakery too so I didn't have to rush up there when things got busy.
This meant I could leave early and concentrate on getting dolled up.
I was grinning to myself because I knew exactly what I was going to wear, a dress and high-heeled strappy sandals I'd owned for over a year and had never worn. Martha talked me into buying them and I'd let her for reasons unknown because they were extremely sexy and thus something (at the time) I had no use for.
Now I had a use for them.
I walked through the front door smiling. Then I aimed my smile at Suni and Toby behind the counter, they smiled back through the pack of people and Toby called, "Tess, a gentleman's here for you. He's waiting over there."
Toby tipped his chin toward the tables, my head turned that way and my smile froze on my face.
This was because Dade McManus was sitting at a table by the window, cleaned plate on the table in front of him, fingers through the handle of a coffee mug also in front of him, and lastly, big manila envelope and folder also in front of him.
I tried to warm up my smile because he was a nice man.
I feared I failed because, even though he was a nice man, I wasn't fired up as to why he might be there.
Still, I approached him smiling.
"Dade," I greeted and, like the gentleman he was, he stood and bent to touch his lips to my cheek.
Then he leaned back, caught my eyes and murmured, "Tess."
"This is a pleasant surprise," I lied.
His head tipped slightly to the side and his smile was small and solemn when he called me on it with a gentle, "I wish that were true, my dear."
I pulled in breath.
He gestured to the chair opposite his, asking, "Please, can you sit with me for awhile?"
I nodded and he waited until I was seated before he sat.
I looked at his plate and with years of experience my eyes moved from it to him and I asked, "Devil's food with dark chocolate buttercream?"
His brows went up in surprise and he answered, "Why, yes."
"Practice," I explained.
He nodded then stated, "It was delicious," I smiled my gratitude for the compliment then he queried, "Would you like me to buy you a cake and coffee?"
"Honey," I said quietly, leaning in a little, "I own the joint. I don't have to pay for the goods."
"Every penny counts, Tess, and it would be my pleasure."