Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 32Lawrence

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lawrence

The last rays of the sun dip below the horizon as I pull into the driveway. The engine hums itself into silence, and I glance at Willow, who has a serene look plastered on her face. It's like she's soaked up all the peace from our day in the woods, and it's radiating off her in waves.

"I really enjoyed today," she says, her green eyes catching the light. "It was... refreshing."

"Me too," I manage, and there's this unfamiliar feeling swelling inside me – pride or something like that. Seeing her so relaxed, so happy, it does something to the usual tension knotted in my chest.

We step out of the car, and the crunch of gravel underfoot mixes with the distant sounds of the Hollow, pulling me back to reality. We're walking up to the porch when Willow stops and turns to me.

"Hey, how about I cook us dinner?" she suggests, the corners of her mouth tugging upward.

"Vegan dinner, you mean?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. "My diet is more steak and potatoes than tofu and kale."

"Trust me, you'll love it." She winks, playful but confident.

"Alright, chef," I say, a smirk spreading across my face. "Show me what you've got."

"Prepare to be amazed," she throws back, laughing as she leads the way into the house.

I follow her into the kitchen, still riding the wave of her good spirits. Who knows, maybe this vegan thing won't be so bad after all.

I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Willow lay out an assortment of vegetables like they're precious gems. She's in her element, and I can't help but feel like a fish out of water—or maybe a steak in a salad bar.

"Here," she hands me a knife that looks sharp enough to cut through my uncertainty. "You can start with the peppers."

"Chop or dice?" I ask, trying to sound knowledgeable.

"Let's go with dice. Think you can handle that without losing a finger?"

Her teasing has me grinning as I focus on the pepper, the blade slicing through the bright red skin with surprising ease. "Challenge accepted."

She laughs and moves on to marinate what smells like tofu, her movements fluid and confident. It's oddly soothing to watch her work, the rhythm of chop and stir filling the space between us with something warm.

"Ever thought about going vegan?" she asks, not looking up from her concoction of herbs and spices.

"Can't say I have," I admit, eyes still on the diced veggies. "But I'm open to being convinced."

"Good answer," she says, and there's a sparkle in her eye that makes me think this is more than just dinner—it's a test.

"Tell me about these," I gesture with the knife towards a pile of leafy greens I don't recognize.

"Dinosaur kale," she informs me, and then launches into an explanation about its nutritional benefits. I listen, actually listen, because the passion in her voice is impossible to ignore.

"Who knew kale could be so interesting?" I quip when she finishes.

"See? You're learning." Her smile is genuine, and it hits me that we're doing something normal, something real. Not pretending, not faking. Just two people cooking dinner.

"Next up, tempeh bacon," she declares, and I raise an eyebrow at the apparent contradiction.

"Vegan bacon? That's a thing?"

"Prepare to have your mind blown." There's a challenge in her tone, and I accept it silently as I finish chopping the last of the vegetables.

Willow moves around the kitchen with grace. The scents of garlic and citrus begin to mingle in the air, and I have to admit—it smells incredible.

"Okay, I'm officially intrigued," I confess as she plates something that looks suspiciously like a meat dish.

"Wait until you taste it," she responds, her confidence bordering on smugness.

I watch her, this woman who fights for what she believes in with a fire that matches my own, and realize that I want her to impress me. I want to believe that there's a world where her idealism and my pragmatism can coexist.

"Ready for the grand finale?" she asks, her green eyes alight with excitement.

"Hit me with it," I say, and mean it.

The table is set with a spread that could rival any high-end restaurant's presentation. Willow stands back, arms crossed. The plates are vibrant with greens, reds, and oranges—artistry through vegetables and grains.

"Wow, this looks amazing," I admit, my skepticism taking a back seat as my stomach growls in anticipation.

"Thank you," she says, a hint of pride in her voice. We sit down across from each other, and she watches me, her gaze expectant as I pick up my fork.

I stab a small piece of the "tempeh bacon," still doubting it could live up to its name. But when I take a bite, flavors explode in my mouth—smoky, savory, with just the right amount of crispness. My eyes widen in surprise.

"This is actually really good," I say, more to myself than to her, but she hears me and her smile widens.

"See? Vegan food isn't just about salads and tofu."

We fall into a comfortable silence, savoring the meal she's created. It's... nice, easy, and for a moment, I forget our arrangement and the world outside Greenwood Hollow.

"Tell me about your plans," I say between bites, genuinely curious about where the money I've promised will go. "For the project."

She sets down her fork, leaning back in her chair, her expression turning thoughtful. "I want to set up a community-based renewable energy initiative," she explains, her hands gesturing as if painting a picture in the air. "To bring sustainable power to places where it's needed most. Underserved areas.”

"Sounds ambitious," I comment, impressed despite myself.

"It is. But it's doable. With the funds, we can start with solar panel installations, small wind turbines, maybe even some hydroelectric systems in rural communities."

I nod, the image of a greener future she's illustrating starting to take form in my mind. The passion in her voice is infectious, and it's hard not to get caught up in her vision—a vision far removed from my own cutthroat business dealings.

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," I say, and I mean it.

"Almost," she replies with a soft chuckle. "But with your help, I think we can make a real difference."

I take another bite, chewing thoughtfully. A part of me wants to see her succeed, to be part of something that could change lives for the better. What an odd thought, considering where we started.

"Explain to me the logistics," I prod, my fork poised over another bite of Willow's vegan masterpiece. The flavors are still dancing on my tongue, but it's her plan that has my full attention now.

Willow leans in, enthusiasm lighting up her green eyes. "Okay, so picture this," she begins, gesturing with her hands as if orchestrating the very wind and sun. "We set up partnerships with local manufacturers for the solar panels and turbines. Keep jobs in the community.”

I nod, captivated not just by the idea but by her. It's like watching an artist paint their magnum opus, every stroke deliberate and filled with meaning.

"Then, we'll work directly with community leaders. They'll help identify the best locations for installations—places that will benefit most from the energy savings." Her voice carries a rhythm that's both calm and commanding, a melody of purpose I can't help but respect.

"Sounds like you've put some real thought behind this," I say, impressed by the depth of her knowledge. I'm beginning to realize she's not just some idealistic dreamer; she's a force to be reckoned with, a storm of conviction and intellect.

"Every detail matters," she affirms, locking eyes with mine. In this moment, I see her—not the enemy or the inconvenient partner in this charade, but Willow, the woman who could change the world.

As the conversation flows, I feel something shift inside me. My interest in her project isn't just about the potential PR win for my company anymore. I'm genuinely invested in what she's saying, in her. It's unsettling yet exhilarating, like stepping into uncharted territory.

"Willow," I start, setting down my cutlery, giving her my undivided attention. "You're remarkable, you know that?" The words slip out, genuine admiration lacing my usually calculated tone.

A blush creeps into her cheeks, and she gives a modest shrug. "I just want to make a difference."

And there it is—the realization hits me, sudden and undeniable. I'm drawn to her passion, her intelligence, and the heartfelt care she pours into every word. What started as a convenient arrangement is morphing into something else entirely, something real.