Page 17 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“I am not eating with you,” I said through gritted teeth. “My timeline. Remember?”
“And I don’t give a fuck about your timeline. We’re eating tonight. You want answers. You’ll get them. And I won’t be waiting for legal counsel.”
“Fine,” I clipped.
“I’ll pick you up here at five,” he said, turning to walk out of the room.
&n
bsp; “No,” I said to his back. “I’ll drive myself. Where shall I meet you?”
He grumbled something under his breath before answering. “The Black Bull Steakhouse.”
“Fine. I’ll be there at six.”
He didn’t say anything else as he strode through the door.
I scoffed. At least this time, I got to watch him leave.
And tonight, I would finally get my answers.
The Black Bull Steakhouse was located about five miles outside of Prescott. The exterior of the building was covered in distressed barnwood with dark amber glass windows. The restaurant’s sign was made of branded wood with longhorns mounted on top.
Exactly what I would have expected for a Montana steakhouse.
As I inspected the building, an idea popped into my head for my restaurant in Manhattan. I quickly made a few notes on a scratch pad before grabbing my phone to run the idea by Logan.
But my fingers paused before I could bring up his number.
My attorney had warned that there could be some publicity surrounding my divorce, though I doubted people would care now that I wasn’t living in New York. But the last thing I wanted was for Logan to learn of my marriage from the gossip rags.
The restaurant conversation would have to wait. I couldn’t delay telling him about Nick any longer.
Steeling my spine, I pressed his name and waited for his answer. “Logan?” All I could hear were people laughing and talking in the background. “Logan!”
“Hi,” he finally answered. “One second, sweetheart.”
I listened to him maneuver through what sounded like a large crowd. What was he was doing at a party on a Monday night? I had talked to him yesterday and he hadn’t mentioned any social plans.
“Sorry,” he said after finding a spot away from the noise.
“It’s okay. Where are you?”
“A cocktail party in Midtown benefitting the Kohlberg Foundation. I ran into your friend Alice today at lunch. She’s working for them and invited me to come along with her.”
“Alice Leys?” I asked.
Alice and I hadn’t stayed close after graduating from Yale. Though we had both moved to New York, we’d been busy trying to jump-start our careers and had lost touch. Our paths had crossed occasionally when I’d been at Austin Capital, but I hadn’t seen her since I’d quit.
I was actually surprised that Logan remembered her. They’d only met a couple of times and I recalled being a bit put off with how forward Alice had been toward him. At the time, I had thought it was only to gain access to the millions of dollars the Kendricks donated each year. But now I was wondering if her interest was more personal.
“Yes, that Alice,” he said. “She’s been inviting me for years to her events. We always had conflicts in our schedules. But now that you’re in Montana, I was available.”
“Well. Isn’t that convenient for her,” I muttered.
“Jealous?” he asked.
“Yes,” I admitted.
