The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (63 page)

O
nce again, I wake before Evan.  He’s sleeping like a baby, and I barely got a solid hour of sleep all night long.  I tossed and turned fitfully for hours.  My mind has been on overdrive.  We have so much riding on the success of today’s Soft Opening.  Evan and I both have big financial investments, but perhaps the greater risk is the responsibility we have to our employees.  Nearly a dozen people have trusted us to give them the opportunity to earn a living.  In order for each of them to have a stable income, we must create a thriving business.  The gravity of it all is really starting to crash down on me hard.

Quietly, I sneak around the room gathering my running clothes and sneakers.  I get dressed in the bathroom and slip out the backdoor unnoticed with Maddy by my side.  It’s a glorious morning and the sun has just broken across the horizon.  As I make my way down the beach, I glance over at the rising sun and admire the beautiful ribbons of colors wrapped around the sky.  Amazing hues of blues, pinks and purples are reflected upon the ocean, providing a welcomed distraction and calming my busy mind.

The first song to shuffle on my playlist is a beautifully soulful song by Sara Bareilles simply entitled, “Brave”.  It’s got a great message about finding one’s inner strength and I use the lyrics to propel me along the beach, lost in the words as I sing along with the chorus. 

I pass countless surf fisherman all at their post, hoping today will be the day they catch a record-breaking striper.  I pay no mind to any of them until I pass the sad, lonely young man sitting alone, paying attention to nothing and no one.  As I do each day, I offer a friendly, “Hello,” but my kindness goes unacknowledged, as usual.  One day I’m going to stop and try to get him to talk.  But that day is not today.  This day is my big day and I have a busy agenda ahead of me.

Once Maddy and I reach the boardwalk, we stop for some games.  As soon as I remove her leash, she high-tails it directly towards a group of unsuspecting seagulls busily searching the beach for a scrap of something to eat.

While Maddy is keeping herself occupied, I decide to relax my mind with some yoga postures.  To execute one correctly, the mind must be clear and completely focused on muscle control.  I decide on a basic triangle pose.  I place both feet flat on the ground, spread apart, forming a nearly right angle.  I firmly grasp my ankle with one hand and reach for the sky with the other, forming a perfectly straight line.  I stretch my neck and chin to stare up into the sky, blocking out all the sounds and sights around me, completely focused on maintaining my position and controlling my breathing.

I switch positions by rotating my body and repeating the pose.  After a few minutes, I relax and check on Maddy, sitting beside me, merrily chewing on a piece of driftwood.  In a final attempt to quiet my mind and stretch my muscles, I bring my feet closer together and grab both ankles in a standing forward bend.  I can see the image of a male jogger approaching through the narrow opening between my knees.  Before I can react, Maddy takes off like a bullet and heads directly towards the jogger.  I’m frozen in place, considering the feelings of déjà vu as she jumps all over the unfortunate jogger, nearly knocking him off his feet. 

I snap out of my daze and right myself to head over and collect my dog.  It doesn’t take me long to realize what happened.

“I’m so sorry about my dog.  Normally, she doesn’t like men.  I hope you’re okay,” I apologize, momentarily stunned by the handsome man standing before me.

He wipes the sand off his arms and legs left behind by my friendly dog.  “It’s not a problem.  I love dogs.”  He eyes me up and down, then asks, “Mind if I join you?  I really hate jogging alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.  My boyfriend is very protective and he’s known to fits of rage and jealousy,” I warn him.

“Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he retorts.

I grab Maddy’s leash and head back towards home, joined by my new friend despite my warnings.  “So, you’re going to join me anyway, aren’t you?” I ask.

“I am,” he quickly admits.  “Sorry, but I went to sleep last night with a beautiful woman and I woke up alone in my bed this morning.  I absolutely hate waking up alone.  I was in a real crappy mood right up until the point I saw you in the horizon, looking all bendy and sexy as hell.”

I look over at the handsome man beside me and confess, “I can’t believe anyone would be foolish enough to leave you alone in bed.  That girl must be a fool.”

“Any man who would let you jog alone on the beach looking like that is the biggest fool on Earth.”  He effortlessly speeds off ahead a few feet, then turns around and grabs me as I run directly into his arms.

“We better be quick.  My boyfriend might come looking for me,” I giggle.  He throws me over his shoulder and gives me a rather forceful swat on my backside.  “Ouch!  That hurt!” I holler.

“Flirting with strange men on the beach?  You deserve that and more, young lady.”  Evan carries me back to the house, and for the first time in hours, he finds all kinds of ways to make me forget my worries.  Hell, for a little while there, I think I even forgot my own name.

T
he front wall of the restaurant is floor to ceiling windows.  The local high school Art Department painted our logo on the window weeks ago.  As I walk around the restaurant getting the final details in order, I can’t help but glance out the windows every few minutes.  It seems that the crowd grows a little larger each time I look.

We decided as a team not to do any formal advertising for tonight’s Soft Opening.  Evan mentioned it on “Night After Night”, but other than that, we haven’t done any marketing.  Adam offered countless times to help us prepare a press release, and I came close to accepting his offer a few times.  But the final decision was made when my fears were confirmed yesterday that we might not be as ready as I had hoped.  The kitchen staff hasn’t really found their groove yet, and a poorly timed visit from food critics could be disastrous.

Emmy comes up from behind me, wraps an arm around my waist, and joins me as we scan the crowds.  “Do you think Adam’s out there?” she asks.

“Of course, he’s there,” I reassure her.  “Adam’s not the kind of guy who forgets to show up and make lame-ass excuses like
some
people.”  I’m reminded of my last boyfriend, David.  He thought the universe revolved around him and would often forget about plans and promises.  He’s so far back in my rear-view mirror, I’m always surprised when memories of him and our two-year crappy relationship creep back up into my mind.  Fortunately, Emmy is so focused on finding her man in the crowd she completely misses my innuendo and I escape from having to explain my comment.

Marcus joins us with an armful of uniforms.  “Here, put this on.  It’s almost time to open the doors.”  Marcus hands each of us a brown t-shirt with a scoop neck the exact color of milk chocolate.  It’s our brand new staff shirt.  Our logo is printed across the chest in red and white printing.  Red and white are the New Jersey Sentinels colors and every time I see it, I feel that connection to Evan. 

Emmy grabs one and giggles like an excited school girl, “Oh, Jette, they’re perfect. They look amazing.  I can’t believe this is really happening.”  Emmy hurries back to the restroom to get changed.

I head back to my office so I can check on a few things and put on my new shirt.  As I make my way through the small restaurant, I quickly see that everything appears to be ready.  The wait staff is busily putting the finishing touches on the table settings.  The bartenders are all changed into uniforms and checking their stock. 

I pass through the kitchen to reach my office in the back room and find Marcus going over last minute directions with Reese.  He’s reminding her of the agreed upon procedures for expediting food orders, but she seems to be largely ignoring him.  I’m disappointed to see her treating her boss, and my friend, so disrespectfully.  It’s not what I expected from Reese.  But then again, I don’t know why I’m so surprised. 

Reese and I have been friends and roommates for a little over two years, and in that entire time, we’ve never worked together.  If her study habits are any indication of her work habits, I should have been better prepared.  She has a natural talent in the kitchen, an outgoing personality, and sharp mind.  She never had to do much studying or practicing to do well in school.  I always envied her sense of confidence.  Now, I feel it’s morphed into an over-confidence that could serve to derail an otherwise smooth opening.  I hope I’m wrong, but I fear I’m not.

There’s no point in stepping in at this point.  We open in just a few more minutes, and I don’t want to undermine Marcus’ role of authority.  I’m going to let him work it out for now, but I make a mental note to stay on top of things for the rest of the night.

As I approach the door to my office, I hear the familiar tapping of keys on a keyboard.  I have no doubt that sound I hear is Evan, unable to stay unplugged from his team for very long.  Morning, noon, and night, he spends every waking moment on his ‘off’ days watching clips from the team’s practice or e-mailing his coaches and trainers.  “Evan, seriously?  Can’t you stop checking in with the team for one minute and help me out here?  It’s almost time to open the doors.”  Is it too much to hope that he’d forget about football for just one night?

He finishes typing and eyes me suspiciously, “Come here.  I want to show you something.”  He sits back in his chair and pats his lap, indicating his wish that I sit on his lap and look at the screen with him.  My disposition softens a little, and I join him as we gaze at the screen.

Evan wraps his arms around me to reach the keyboard.  I close my eyes for a moment and inhale his unique scent.  It’s a heady mixture of body wash and testosterone, and each time I’m near him, it has an immediate effect on me.  I try to push back these intense impulses and focus on the computer as Evan pulls up the site he was just on.  It’s his Twitter feed.  He’s tweeting about our Soft Opening tonight.  Then he clicks some more and shows me his Facebook status that says he is “thrilled and blissfully happy to be hosting the Opening of Rush Dessert Bar”. 

He whispers in my ear, “I’m just trying to help in the best way I know how – giving people something to talk about.”  Evan looks deep into my eyes and adds, “Speaking of which, I have something special I’d like to give you.”  He reaches around me for something left on the floor, just out of my sight.  When he raises his hand back up, he’s holding a beautiful bouquet of wispy pink and white flowers wrapped tightly with a big white ribbon which he hands to me.

“Oh, Evan.  You didn’t have to.  You’ve given me so much already,” I tell him.

“It’s just a little token to remind you that even though sometimes I may not show it, you’re always on my mind.  These flowers are heather.  The pink ones represent Good Luck and the white ones represent Protection.  Their combined powers should guarantee a successful opening.”  He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, “You ready to open the doors, baby?”

I lay the flowers on the desk, drape my arms around his neck, and plant a sweet kiss on his lips.  “Ready when you are, baby.”  I quickly strip off my ratty old t-shirt and slip on my new staff shirt.  Evan is wearing his staff shirt, too.  I’ve always gotten such a thrill seeing him in his football uniform, but seeing him standing there in a shirt that I designed, wearing the name of the business we own together is almost like seeing him wearing my mark.  It’s as if I’ve stamped him with a branding iron proclaiming to the world that he belongs to me. 

Together, hand-in-hand, we walk to the door, turn the deadbolt lock, and gaze upon the crowd gathered on the sidewalk. Despite the lack of advertising, word seems to have gotten out because there is a crowd assembled on the sidewalk that seems to go around the block. 

I take a deep breath to steady myself and calm my rising nerves.  Evan wraps one arm around me and holds me close, allowing me to use his power as a lightning rod to fuel my own strength.  First in line, as promised, are Evan’s parents, accompanied by his sister, Callie, and brother-in-law, Dean.  Relief washes over me as Evan greets the anxious crowd.

“Welcome to Rush Dessert Bar,” Evan proclaims. 

“Thank you for coming out tonight.  We will seat all of you as quickly as we possibly can,” I add.

The hostess gets busy seating the guests as quickly as possible.  I’ve reserved one of the booths for Evan’s family and a table beside it for mine.  Evan and I spend a few minutes chatting with our families and proudly greeting the rest of the guests.  Friends, family, and strangers all ask to take a picture with Evan.  A few of them want me in their photo, too. 

As we walk around the restaurant, I try to keep an eye on the staff.  The waitresses are taking orders, the busboys are filling water glasses, and the hostess is nearly done seating the guests.  There is a palpable buzz of excitement and joy in the air.  So far, so good.

However, after closer inspection, I notice that the bar staff is quickly getting in the weeds.  It takes diners a little while to decide on their meal selections, but choosing a beverage is something most people do fairly quickly.  As a result, drink orders are quickly piling up.