“Bye,” I say with an awkward wave, watching him walk away.
Huh . . .
Maybe this trip won’t be as bad as I first thought.
“Pickle-flavored chips? I don’t know about that,” I say as I stare at the bag of chips JP insisted on sharing.
He reaches for the bag, pops it open, and tilts it toward me. “Try one. I promise you’ll like it.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“Then you need new tastebuds.”
“You aren’t always right, you know,” I say while taking a chip.
“Most of the time, I am. And I’m right about these chips.” He takes one as well, and together, we place them in our mouths. The heavenly, seasoned chip introduces my tongue to a world of flavors. Like tasty fireworks blasting off in my mouth.
And damn it . . . he’s right. They’re good.
They’re really good.
Some of the most flavorful chips I’ve ever had.
“What do you think?” he asks.
Not wanting to hand him the satisfaction of me liking them, I just shrug and say, “Eh, they’re okay.”
The corner of his lip twitches as he whispers, “Liar.” Then he pulls the bag closer to him and adds, “If they’re just okay, I guess I’ll eat them myself.”
Should’ve seen that coming.
I groan and hold out my hand. “Fine . . . they’re really freaking good and I want more, please.”
That causes him to laugh. He hands me the bag and I take a nice fistful of chips for my plate. “See, always right,” he says.
“And humble, too.” I pop a few more chips in my mouth. “So, what was today’s meeting about?”
He sighs and says, “Just a meeting with Edison. We went around and looked at some other buildings Huxley wanted me to check out.”
“Anything good?”
“Not really. Not worth our time.”
“How can you tell if it’s worth your time or not?”
He brushes his hand with a napkin, cleaning the heavy pickle seasoning from his fingers. “Location is always the first thing. The purpose of the building—will it be worth the time and energy we put into it to make money? And then, of course, renovations. There was also no character to these buildings. They were just kind of there. We’ve made plenty of money on generic buildings, you’ve seen them around LA, and we have a few in New York City now, too. They’ve done the job, but now we’re more interested in unique buildings.”
“Passion projects?”
“Sort of,” he answers. “Huxley really wants to expand, hence why he partnered with you. Sometimes I think nothing will be good enough, that he’ll constantly keep pressing to be the best, but I’m not sure what the best is.”
“Meanwhile, your workload is filling up.”
“Exactly.” He glances out the window of the sandwich shop and says, “I’m surprised you met up with me for lunch. I thought you hated me too much to do such a thing.”
“I don’t hate you. Hell, I thought you hated me. I was surprised that you asked me to lunch. Wasn’t sure if it was a ploy to do something else.”
“Like what?” He chuckles.
“I don’t know, plant some sort of chip in my bedroom so you knew what I was doing at all times.”
“Jesus.” He laughs. “What kind of psychopath do you think I am?”
“Apparently, a creepy one. I don’t know. It’s just nice that you’re talking to me.”
“I’ve always talked to you, Kelsey, I just vary the tone.”
“No, you were doing the silent treatment there for a bit.”
“Because you pissed me off,” he counters. “I was being a nice guy that night and you treated me like I was an insensitive asshole.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I think I was just thrown off by that entire evening, and I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. Can I ask, what were your intentions for that night? You asked me to dance, why?”
“Because.” He pops another chip in his mouth and chews. “I wanted to make sure that you had some fun. Getting run over by an old man wasn’t the plan. But at least that brought you a little joy.”
“And then Edwin and Genesis took off. Reminds me of When Harry Met Sally—you know, when they go on a double date and their dates go off with each other. That was us.”
“You lucked out, then. I was much better company than Edwin. Better to look at, too.”
“Ah, there’s that humility.”