She snorts a laugh and reaches for my shoulder. “The world. Being well rested looks good on you. You should take advantage of all the help you can get while you can.”
It feels weird, but I’m agreeing with Sutton more and more. I shouldn’t feel bad about doing something for me, even if it’s against my nature to accept help. For a change, it feels so good to not intentionally make things harder on myself than they have to be.
I let out a long sigh. “Yeah. Well, we’ll see how it goes. None of this is exactly a long term solution.”
“I know.” She squeezes my shoulder before letting go. “But still, make the best of it. He’s just trying to be nice.”
My brows knit together because as right as both her and Sutton might be, I don't want to keep thinking about this. “Alright, enough mushy shit. We have work to do before the hoards arrive for their caffeine.”
She laughs and flicks her long ponytail over her shoulder. “There’s my girl.”
I might have a long day of work ahead of me, but I actually find myself looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 17
SUTTON
Seattle, Washington
I runmy finger over the long pewter bar top. It’s just like the one at Gloria’s, which was my idea. I loved the old bistro style counters that reminded me of the quaint family-run restaurants all over Paris. I practically lived in them during culinary school—financed by Slade after his first restaurant took off and got notoriety. He wanted me to be as good as him in the kitchen so we could expand.
As always, his idea worked. I learned so much in France, and then later working at restaurants in Amsterdam. That’s probably why I’m even here in Seattle, on a Monday morning. I flew in yesterday after brunch wound down at Gloria’s.
Was it how I wanted to spend my precious days off? Not exactly.
I would have rather spent them doing anything possible to get Kelsey to look at me the way she did two nights ago. What I thought was going to be a routine Saturday night at Gloria’s turned into one of the bright spots in my year. Brighter than the days the glowing reviews kept flowing in forGloria’s. Brighter than the news we’d be opening this restaurant. Yes, Saturday night was easily the best night of my year.
“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Slade asks, leaning against the far end of the dull metallic bar top. I click my tongue and walk toward him.
“Yep. It looks great. Everything else on track?” I gesture toward the mostly finished dining room.
I don’t know why I even ask. He’s been giving me weekly, or even biweekly, updates on this place and I already know that it’s actually ahead of schedule which is a damn miracle in this business.
He nods with a smug grin. When I get closer to him, I lean one elbow against the bar and look my brother in the eyes. I can see the bags under his eyes and I have to wonder how much sleep he’s been getting.
My work-life balance might be shit between helping Dad and Sly while running Gloria’s, but it’s practically like summer camp compared to what Slade puts himself through. He runs the restaurant in Denver full-time, makes time to stop into the Park City restaurant at least twice a month, and has been here in Seattle at least three to four times a month. He is running himself ragged, but I know if I ask him about it, he’ll just brush me off and say it’s part of the job.
“That’s good news. The place is beautiful. It’s going to be great.”
His smug grin widens, baring his teeth. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I want you to run it.”
“What?” I knew this question was a possibility, but it still comes as a surprise. I figured he’d ask me to help get it up and on its feet, but running it is an entirely different proposition.
He must see my shock because his grin fades and his shoulders slump.
“Come on. You know you want it.” He grabs my shoulder and gives me one firm shake. He runs his otherhand through his slicked back hair and I notice more than a few new gray hairs mixed in near his temples. “You’ve earned it. This place could blow up and be something huge—something special. Maybe even get your first star.”
I nod because he has a point. The odds of me getting a star in Seattle are vastly different than Wyoming. There was a time when I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. After years of running Gloria’s though, there’s a good part of me that doesn’t know if I want that anymore. I obviously still want a star—that hasn’t changed. I just don’t know what I’m willing to give up anymore to get it.
Gloria’s has been my dream restaurant. I love the closeness I have to my diners. I also love the small catering business that I’ve been juggling on the side. Working those intimate gatherings, like weddings or big family dinners, is what I enjoy the most about cooking for people. Getting to be a part of making their memories.
I even think about my food truck project. I’ve always dreamt about taking it to events and being right in the middle of the action with the people eating my meals. That’s why I love my tasting counter where I get to serve the people eating it. There’s something so intimate and personal about it and I could do the same thing with a food truck. I’d still run Gloria’s, but I’d love to have that change of pace for special events.
And while he might say there’s no rush and even delude himself into believing it, I can’t ignore what I’ve watched him do for the last six months. After seeing the way he’s pushing himself to the limit, something is going to give sooner or later. I don’t know how I can say no even though that’s exactly what a voice in the back of my head is screaming.
“I’ll think about it. I already told you I’d help get it up and running, and that hasn’t changed. I’m just not sure about picking up and starting over again.”
He snorts a laugh. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you have anything holding you back in Jackson.”