Page 50 of Love is Grand

“Who wouldn’t here at the Grand?” Cal sat at the end of my lounger, rubbing my foot. “Are you good? What can I get you?”

Weezie had watched with big eyes as he kissed my cheek hello when we arrived. She’d be doing backflips over the foot rub, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to stop.

“Jack called when you were on your way over,” Cal said. “I’m going to see two houses tomorrow. I’d like you to come with me.”

Swallowing, I said, “I can’t. I’m working a double at Camila’s.”

“Shell. I don’t like it.”

“This is how I make a living, Cal. I’m working on some other options, but until they come together, this is what I have.”

His palm worked its way up my leg and back down again, massaging my sore calf. “I want to know what you’re working on. And before I forget, your belly looks amazing in that suit.”

I burst out laughing. “It looks like a bowling ball.”

This made him laugh too. “Don’t talk about my son that way.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Shush,” he said. “Now tell me before your daughter comes back over. She doesn’t like my attention diverted, and that’s a damn good thing. Because the things I want to do to you have no place out here.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a sip of my water but didn’t respond.

“Go on. Tell me,” he said.

The stubborn man wasn’t going to let it go, so I took a chance.

“I’m working on syrups. For coffee.”

“And? What’s your pitch?” His attention wholly focused on me, Cal made me feel like the sun rose and set on my ideas. Not once had I ever felt that way with Ricky.

“Well, I get asked a lot about flavored beans, but my dad is a purist, and that was going to be a solid no from him. But then I thought about island-flavored syrups for coffee drinks or hot cocoas or whatever, locally sourced and manufactured. I perfected my simple syrup, and then I started playing with various extracts. The problem is I have to rent space to make it and bottle it to sell it commercially. Those are the numbers I’m crunching.”

“Who’s making the packaging?” Cal asked, not missing a beat.

“I have that solved. I found a glass bottle manufacturer, and Brianna helped me design a label. She went to school for a semester of graphic design before quitting.”

“Does Adam know all this?”

I nodded.

Cal frowned, grumbling, “Fucker.”

“I asked him not to tell you. I feel like he shouldn’t be in the middle of us.”

“How much is the manufacturing?”

“It’s complicated, a sliding-scale thing. It goes down the more I make. I could start bottling it on my own, but this is the preferred way.”

“I’ll back it.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I need to figure this out.”

“Why? You’re having my baby.”

“Our baby,” I said firmly.

“Our baby. I want to back your business. I want you done with waiting tables. You can pay me back when you make money.”