One More Night. Jennifer McKenzie

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      Though it was only three in the afternoon, Elephants was already half full. People who’d slipped out of the office a bit early, summer tourists—anyone looking for a respite from the hot sun. And Owen knew the rest of the seats would fill up in the next hour as people got off work and looked for a little slice of relaxation after a hard day.

      Owen knew he wasn’t solely responsible for the bar’s success, but he was part of it. It felt good knowing that his suggestions had been implemented and that they worked. He hoped to introduce similar changes at the other properties owned by the family company, the Ford Group, which included three wine bars and one fine dining establishment, but his older brother, Donovan, had been dragging his feet. Both about setting up a meeting and listening to any of Owen’s suggestions other than those for Elephants.

      Owen tried not to take it personally. Donovan was recently engaged and the new owner of a property he planned to turn into a gastro pub, the first in a string that would dot the Vancouver landscape. But Owen had hoped the fact that Donovan was busier than ever would encourage him to put more on Owen’s plate. He’d proven he could handle it with Elephants. And yet, his brother seemed loath to allow further changes.

      But he didn’t need to think about that now. At this moment, all he needed to do was order something to eat and something to wash it down with.

      He smiled at the pretty server when she swung by to take his order. The old Owen would have done more than smile, would have flirted outrageously with the promise of taking it somewhere later, but the new Owen was an upstanding businessman who had learned to keep a bit of distance between himself and the staff.

      Still, that didn’t stop him from responding to her joke with one of his own when she returned with his meal. It was merely being friendly. Owen didn’t want to become a therapist for the employees, but he’d discovered that his innate interest in people created a special bond, one that made them want to please him, want to do well.

      The tension in his lower back, put there by all the nights he spent on his feet, slid away when he cracked open the water bottle—he never drank on-site, not even when he was off duty—and sucked down a long sip. Nothing like a cold drink on a hot day to make a man appreciate the good things in life. Owen sat back and sipped again. And then his phone rang.

      He sighed loudly when he saw the name on the screen. Donovan. Knowing the call would be work-related, Owen wasn’t comfortable letting it go to voice mail. He was still trying to prove to Donovan that he was serious about this new leaf he’d turned over and refusing to answer the phone would do little to help that, so he forced the irritation down and answered with a polite greeting. “Owen Ford.”

      “Owen, I need a favor.”

      Of course he did. And wasn’t it just like Donovan to call during his downtime. Owen stifled the thought. It wasn’t as if Donovan didn’t work hard, too, and he couldn’t possibly know that Owen had just sat down to eat. “What’s up?”

      “I need you to take a meeting for me. With the wedding planner.”

      “What?” Owen pulled his cell phone away from his ear and looked at the screen as though that would somehow explain the ridiculous request. But the screen only stared back at him, giving him the option to mute, switch to speaker mode or other useless choices. He brought the phone back to his ear. “Are you kidding? Where are you?”

      “Stuck in Calgary.” Donovan had gone to meet with a possible new supplier, but he was supposed to have been back this morning. “Which is why I’m calling.”

      Owen shook his head. He was so not the wedding type. “So call Julia and reschedule.” Julia, Donovan’s fiancée, wouldn’t be happy but that was Donovan’s problem, not his.

      “Don’t you think I’ve tried that? I can’t get hold of Julia at home or the restaurant.” Julia was the executive chef of the fine dining restaurant in the Ford Group, which was how she and Donovan had met. “She’s not answering her cell phone.”

      “She probably forgot to charge it again.” Owen sighed. Julia rarely answered her phone. He didn’t know why she even had the stupid thing, since it was always either off or dead. “So call the planner and explain the situation.” He had things to do—like eat a juicy burger and spend his afternoon relaxing.

      “How well do you think that will go over with Julia?” Owen knew the answer to that, but again not his problem. “Look, if you’ll just do me this one favor, I’ll schedule that meeting to talk about your ideas.”

      Owen paused. “Really?” Because he had a lot. All of them winners in his opinion.

      “Yes.” Donovan sounded harried now.

      “All right. Do I have to fill in on the day of, too? Or will you manage to show up?”

      Donovan snorted. “As if. You’re not the marrying kind.”

      Owen might have been insulted, except he’d had the same thought not a minute before.

      Donovan rattled off directions to the wedding planner’s office, which was within walking distance from the bar, and told Owen to make sure he wasn’t late.

      “I’m not going to have to look at color samples or anything, am I? Because I don’t want to get blamed for choosing the wrong shade of pink.”

      “No choosing required.” The relief in Donovan’s voice was evident. “And tell Julia that I’m sorry and to charge her phone.”

      “Should I kiss her, too?” Owen and Julia had their own friendship beyond her engagement to Donovan. Not that it included kissing, but if Owen was going to be forced to attend a wedding-planning session in his brother’s stead, he was going to take the opportunity to poke at said brother.

      “Not if you value your life.”

      “I could take you,” Owen said. It was an instinctual response. One borne from years of being the little brother. The second-best brother. “But I value my good looks too much.” And that was instinctual, too. The desire not to fight, but to go along to get along.

      Donovan laughed. “I owe you one.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to collect.”

      They talked for a few more minutes, Donovan giving him instructions on how to find the wedding planner’s office again as if he’d forgotten already. By the time he hung up, Owen had only a few minutes before he had to leave in order to make it to the meeting on time. He took another long swig of water and mourned that he no longer had enough time for his burger. But the promised discussion with Donovan was worth it. He’d miss a lot of burgers to get the opportunity to show Donovan that he was ready for more responsibility than simply managing Elephants.

      He flagged the server and explained that he had to go and to cancel his order, then he tried calling Julia just in case she picked up. The only answer he got was the mechanical voice telling him her inbox was full.

      So much for that bright idea. He wiped down the table and left a tip at the bar for the server—just because he owned the place didn’t mean the servers shouldn’t be compensated—then stepped out into the hot July afternoon.

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