“I’ve been thinking about this big plan of yours.” She stabbed a cocktail stick at one of the stuffed olives the waiter had put down with their drinks. Garlic-stuffed, too. “Won’t your staff think it’s odd that the temp who screwed up the entire payment run is now suddenly your girlfriend and poster girl?”
“Nope. I’ll mention to Super discreetly that my new squeeze wanted to know what it was like to have a nine-to-five job instead of living off her daddy’s allowance. And now that she knows what real work is like, she doesn’t like it too much, but she likes dressing up and having her picture taken.”
“That makes me look like a spoiled brat!”
He shrugged. “Does it matter? Being on my arm and having me metaphorically kissing your tiny feet will mean most of womankind will hate you anyway.”
“So modest.” Her toes tingled at the thought of him kissing them. Perhaps he’d done that to her already, but she couldn’t be exactly sure.
“It’s an observed fact, and that’s why I avoid long-term relationships. It’s just not fair on them.”
“Them?” Talk about an inflated ego. “The female masses?”
“No, the poor woman who thinks she’s found Mr. Right, but is sadly deluded because I’m a Grade A shit.” He shot her a chilling look. “Just so we’re clear.”
“There’s no such person as Mr. Right in Passion Creek.”
There might have been in Sanibel, though, if he hadn’t been such a drifter…
She shuddered for a split second, thinking she’d spoken those words aloud. Was she insane? The drifter bum version of Matt DeLeo was the most unsuitable potential life partner she’d ever encountered, apart from her abysmal ex, of course. And Matt DeLeo the super-wealthy brewery boss and genius entrepreneur was equally bad, just in a more respectable way. Irresponsible and full of himself. She was destined to spend the rest of her life alone—there was very little doubt about it—and all things considered, maybe that was for the best.
She needed to keep their relationship on as much of a business footing as possible or things could get messy. Cold and ruthless was the way forward. “I guess we must have a schedule of events, appearances, that sort of thing leading up to the big launch day? When is that? And you said photo shoots. I have no idea what that involves.” She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose before finishing with, “apart from lots of lovely pink beer.”
“On that day, I have a huge event at the town hall planned out. The mayor is all for it, and he’s even agreed to wear a pink PCB-issue vest for the proceedings.”
She couldn’t suppress a little smile after hearing that piece of information. “Yeah, I can see Mayor Cobbett really going for something that tacky. And alcoholic…”
“He has a lot of contacts and they’ll all be there buying and drinking and being persuaded to tell their friends. Hopefully, if they drink enough, they’ll also be tempted to put pressure on their corporate entertainment departments to order with us. If I get things right, word about PCB being a totally amazing love elixir will go viral. I’m considering adding a Twitter hashtag to the campaign as well. Get the trendy demographic interested.”
“Not worried about the Puritans?”
He shook his head. “Advertising and promoting alcohol is still legal and long may it stay that way. Besides, there’s evidence to suggest responsible drinking is actually good for you. And, let’s face it, you can go into a store and buy cannabis legally in Colorado these days. Beer is pretty tame in comparison.”
She raised an eyebrow and he matched her.
“Looks good,” she murmured as the bartender began to unload a stack of tiny dishes on to the table in front of them.
“Today’s specials.” The bartender grinned. He clearly enjoyed this part of his job. “Fire-roasted piquillo peppers stuffed with fresh goat cheese and rosemary, seared sea scallops with crispy jamón, lemon aioli, and flash-fried arugula, charcuteria, patatas bravas, and my personal favorite, carne de cerdo, ribs with a pineapple brandy sauce served with crispy fried onions.”
“Good grief,” Piper muttered. “Your chef is a genius.”
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said with a laugh and then switched his attention to Matt. “I’ll be right back with the blood orange sangria you ordered at the bar, sir.”
The warm red wine on her empty stomach was taking hold quickly. She hadn’t had time for breakfast, but it looked like lunch was going to make up for it. She picked up a pepper by the stalk, bit into its juicy, salty filling, and savored the tang of the herby cheese before launching into her best small talk. “I’ve never had lobster, way too expensive. What’s it like?”
His dark eyebrows lifted. “Like a big shrimp, but chewier, not as sweet. Big, fat shrimps are nicer in my opinion.”
Piper bit down on a scallop. “So why the ‘I’ll have the lobster’ thing?”
“Because I’d never tasted it before I made it as a somebody. I order it because I can.”
“But you prefer shrimp?”
“I prefer burgers, actually. With processed cheese and sweet pickles.”
She stared down at the spread of dishes between them. “Comfort food.”
“I guess.”
“My mom’s roast chicken is the best for that.”
He chewed for a moment, looking at her intently. “My mom isn’t much of a cook.”
“A mom that doesn’t cook the best food ever? Not natural.”
He shrugged. “You said it.”
“I’m sorry, none of my business.”
She suddenly wanted to ask him over to her folks’ for Sunday dinner to show him how real people lived, normal people who peeled their own potatoes and scrubbed the floor, but knew her mom would fall for him instantly. He had that little boy lost look about him when his guard was down, when he was asleep, she remembered that much. Those long, dark eyelashes… No, her private life was a total no-go area if she wanted to survive this. Matt DeLeo should remain as secret or at least as low-key as possible. And what was she doing trying to be nice to this man, anyway? He was blackmailing her, for God’s sake! The wine must be strong.
She swallowed a spicy slice of potato and then wiped the red sauce off her lips with a napkin. “I know nothing about you, so the random inappropriate remark is going to be inevitable. We didn’t get to talk that much in Sanibel. Correction, we did talk, but it was pretty much nonsense.”