“Thank you for covering,” she said.
“I don’t like lying,” he said, his jaw tight. “But I agree it’s better to just keep this between us.”
“Okay. Then…we’re good?”
“There are still things we need to talk about,” he said. “A shitload of things. But this isn’t the place.”
“Oh.”
“So. Let’s talk about the website redesign. After you talk to CoastTech, you’ll need to put that all together into a business case.”
She scowled, but they’d already had this fight once. “Yes,” she muttered. “But I’m still working on the high density planting case. And I haven’t even gotten to the case for using the pomace. I don’t know when I’ll get time to get to that.”
He frowned. “I offered to do that for you.”
“I know, but…”
He leaned forward, eyes intense. “I’ll do it, Tara.”
She studied him for a long moment, nibbling on her bottom lip. She wanted to get the high density planting business case done more than anything—that was her biggest project and the one she needed Grandpa’s approval on to move forward, the one that was going to take the business to the next level. She couldn’t do it all herself.
But it vexed her to hand something over to Joe when all along she’d been trying to keep things away from him. She tried to reconcile that with the man who’d given her so much on the weekend—and couldn’t.
“Okay.” She turned around and picked up a folder from the credenza behind her desk. “Here.” She slid it over to him. “Go for it.” She paused. “But…you won’t rule it out just because it’s…soap, will you? Or just because it’s my idea?”
“Tara.” He gave her a look of censure. “If it’s a viable business opportunity, I’ll say so. I don’t care whose idea it was or what it is.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“And since you’re so busy, I’ll handle the tax audit.”
She pursed her lips. “I hate audits,” she admitted. She sighed. “Okay.”
His lips twitched. “Okay.”
Paige poked her head into the office. “Joe, Cole Sotello is on the phone for you.”
Tara frowned. “For Joe? Doesn’t he want to talk to me?” Cole Sotello was the competition—another olive oil producer a little farther north in the valley.
“He asked for Joe.”
“I’ll take it in my office.”
“Why is he calling you?” She shifted her gaze to Joe. Her stomach tightened and her heart started beating a little faster. This was her worst fear…other people were going to start going to him instead of her.
“I have no idea,” Joe said patiently. “I’ll let you know.”
She stared at him in dismay as he left to take the call. Why wouldn’t Joe speak to her?
Dammit, and she’d just handed over the pomace business case and the tax audit. Shit! She needed to get a grip. She could not be getting all soft just because they’d had sex. Really, supernova hot sex. She had to stay in control. Had to.
Joe returned a short time later with his arms full of files.
“So what did he want?” she demanded.
“Who?”
“Cole Sotello!”
He lifted a brow. “He wants to have lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “Why?”
He gave her a long, patient look. She met his gaze defiantly.
“I don’t know, Tara. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Why can’t I come?”
“Because he invited me.”
She wanted to growl with frustration. She was being totally excluded from the meeting and it wasn’t fair, dammit. “But I…”
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I can handle whatever it is.”
She nodded.
“Have lunch with me today.”
“No.” That was a bad idea.
“Yes. I’ll swing by at noon.” And he disappeared. Damn him.
Chapter Fifteen
Having lunch together wouldn’t look odd to anyone.
They walked to a restaurant nearby and sat on the patio under the shade of a colorful umbrella. After ordering coffee and sandwiches, they faced each other across the table. “My plan…” Tara began.
Joe shook his head. “Uh-uh. No work talk. It’s lunch time.”
She frowned. “But…”
He smiled, looking around the busy patio. There was nobody there they knew. None of the office staff, nobody from the store. He reached across the small table and took her hand. “If you want to talk about work, tell me more about your ideas for the ranch. The tours, the tastings.”
He half expected her to withdraw her hand from his, given the public location, but her fingers curled around his almost instinctively. He liked that. She smiled at him.
“Okay,” she said, apparently only too happy to do so. She talked about all the ideas she had and how they could use the property, the way she’d like the tasting area to look, the feel of it, how they could do tours. To his surprise, some of the ideas she had about what to do with the house were things that had floated through his own head when he’d been out there.
He could actually envision himself living in that ranch house. He’d love to have a swimming pool there; just beyond the patio was the perfect location. He could see himself in an updated version of the kitchen, whipping up pasta dishes or moving between the kitchen and the patio to an outdoor cooking area, grilling steaks, sitting beside the pool with a bunch of people talking and laughing.
Jesus Christ. He had to give his head a shake, a hard shake. What the fuck was he thinking of? This was not his life, here in Santa Barbara. This was a temporary thing, short term, a stepping stone back to his real life.
He listened to Tara talk, resisting the impulse to jump in with questions about costs and feasibility. This was her vision, her dream, and he didn’t want to shut her down. There’d be time for that later, some day when they were making her dream a reality.
Fuck. Once again, what was he thinking? Like he’d be around then. By the time Santa Ynez Olives got to that point, he’d be long gone, back in San Francisco working for some other big manufacturing company, achieving his own dreams.
The thought cast a shadow over their lunch and he forced it to the back of his mind, focusing again on Tara and the lively energy and enthusiasm on her beautiful face as she talked.
Sasha found herself looking forward to the next planning meeting at the center. Again she stayed after, lingering with the kids. She had no idea why they appealed to her so much. Maybe because they were so accepting of her, so honest. She made more jewelry with some of the girls.
“Yo, Sasha.”
She turned and smiled at Caleb and Isaiah. “Hey, guys. What’s up? Or should I say, whassup?” She grinned.
“We was just wondering if you would give us some advice.”
The two teenage brothers, age thirteen and fifteen, shuffled their feet in front of her. She wasn’t sure how their pants stayed up, they were so huge and baggy, but they were nice kids. Polite.
“Sure.”
“It’s our mom’s birthday next week,” Isaiah said. “We want to get her something nice.”
“Yeah,” Caleb said. “We’ve saved up twenty bucks. We saw a real nice necklace at Dollar World we think she’d like, but we’re not sure. You know what a fine lady would like.”
She smiled, groaning inwardly. Dollar World? “What’s it like?”
“It’s…” They looked at each other and shrugged. “It’s got beads and stuff, silver and black.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t know your mom, but I’m sure she’d like anything you get for her.”
“We want it to be special,” said Caleb.
“Well, what kinds of things does she like? Does she go out much?”