Page 9 of Rival Hearts
“Trust the process,” I say, mentally crossing my fingers that I haven’t fucked this up already. When the idea first came to mind, it sounded romantic—an excellent way to woo Sierra since I took that conversation we had to heart. But now I’m not so sure. An empty parking garage might read as crazy serial killer more than romantic suitor.
Too late to back out now.
I reverse into a space at the western edge of the lot. A rooftop view of Main Street lies below us as the sun hovers above the horizon, and the mid-March breeze is just cool enough to warrant the extra blankets I brought.
The passenger door slams shut, then Sierra rounds the rear of the car to watch me open the back hatch and reveal folded blankets, a battery-operated lantern, and a red cooler.
“What is all of this?”
“What’s it look like, sweetcakes? We’re having a picnic for dinner.”
“A picnic,” she deadpans. Disbelief wrinkles her brows as I shake out a blanket and lay it out on the Jeep carpet.
Patting the spot, I tilt my head for her to get inside. “Up and at’em. We’re tailgating while enjoying the sunset.”
“You’re serious.” She bites her lip and looks between me and the back of my Jeep. “Is this some kind of mind game before the last round of competition? Because I don’t understand what the heck is going on.”
My hand gently pushes Sierra toward the picnic setup. Of course, she’s hesitant and confused. This wouldn’t be my Sierra if she didn’t question my intentions at least once a day.
“I’m wooing you,” I admit. I hadn’t planned on laying it all on the line tonight. My strategy was to warm her up to me, capitalize on how well we've worked together on The Cafe Clash, then admit that I’d like us to be more than business rivals.
But it seems that ship has sailed since Sierra is skeptical as fuck.
“Wooing… me.”
“Yup. Champagne?” The chilled bottle pulls easily from the ice in the cooler, and I quickly pop it open before pouring the bubbly liquid into two plastic cups. They’re not the fanciest things around, but they’ll do for a parking lot picnic.
Sierra accepts the cup then downs the contents in one swift gulp, offering it back to me for an immediate refill. Her bewildered gaze tracks my movements as I arrange food containers in the sliver of space between us in the Jeep. Our meal is basically a deconstructed charcuterie board—or an elevated Lunchable, depending on how you look at it—meats, cheeses, fruits, along with an assortment of crackers. All courtesy of Pickle & Rye, a local delicatessen.
Sierra slowly chews and swallows the stack of a pretzel cracker, provolone, and prosciutto I give her. “You need to explain to me why the hell you’re wooing me. We’ve got mere weeks of being civil under our belt due to this contest. As if that isn’t enough of a reason to keep things professional, there are years before that of total animosity. You don’t like me; I don’t like you. So, where is this coming from?”
“I’ve never disliked you, Sierra. And animosity isn’t how I’d describe our relationship. It’s a fun rivalry. I never truly wanted you to fail.” I swallow my own double stack of capicola and colby jack. “I actually wanted to be friends, especially considering how our best friends are married to each other, but you’ve never seemed keen on the idea. Until now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SIERRA
Is he for real?
I feel like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Any moment a spaceship will appear on the horizon with a message from another planet admitting to infiltrating the human species, and Caleb is one of their alien hosts.
Because I don't know who this man is.
Granted, he's upended my previous impression of him by working with me to help both of our businesses succeed, but how am I supposed to jump from previous archnemesis to potential boyfriend material?
Because I think that's what Caleb's alluding to.
This is a date.
He's wooing me.
And I'm flabbergasted.
Shannon's going to have a field day with this new development.
“Earth to Sierra.” Caleb flicks my shoulder. “You still in there or have I managed to finally stump that clever brain of yours?”
I swat his hand away. “Knock it off. I'm just absorbing everything.”