But she died before that dream could be realized.
Brunch at Wayne’s Place. She’d held her hands up and trailed her fingers in the air. Jenna learned to cook from my gran and made the best biscuits and gravy you’d ever tasted.
“It’s a fancy chicken sandwich. Try it.” Millie nudged.
Something had changed in her. She was nice and it freaked me out. Gone was the cagey witch I’d become used to. Now I was on guard with this new, nice Millie, wondering when she was going to pounce on me with some new demand or show her true colors. Maybe this sandwich had poison in it.
I peeled the top bun off. There was some speckled creamy shit that looked a bit like ranch dressing but wasn’t white enough. “What is that?”
She facepalmed herself. “It’s garlic aioli. Fancy mayo. Just try it.”
Fancy mayo.
“What’s wrong with regular mayo? Why you gotta fancy it?” I pinned her with a glare. I wanted to test her new found niceness and poke holes in that façade.
“Lord help me.” She looked up to the ceiling. “Just try it.”
My upper lip curled as I placed the top back on and inspected it a bit more. “Avocado and fried chicken don’t go together, honey.” This city girl was way out of her element.
She rolled her eyes, leaning on the pass-through food window and glared at me.
“Ashton. Try the fucking sandwich,” she bit out.
And she was back. The viper. Hah. I knew she couldn’t hold on to the fake nice thing for long. With a smug smile, I shoved it into my mouth with all the grace of a pig and took half the thing down in one big swallow, hoping to piss her off more with poor manners, but she simply grinned at me sweetly.
Faker.
Flavor exploded on my tongue and I took another bite.
Holy shit, this was good. The garlic was smoky, and damn that fried chicken was crisp. The avocado gave it a nice texture change from the crisp. The bun also seemed to have been heavily toasted and buttered.
As I chewed, I watched her, trying to control my reaction. I didn’t want her to think it was too good. I was selling this damn place, she didn’t need to make this kind of effort.
“You realize you’re basically working for free, right? That you’re cleaning a kitchen that will be torn out in a month?” I said between mouthfuls.
She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. How’s the food?”
I shoved the last bit in my mouth and shrugged. “Good enough.”
Her face contorted with rage and the viper was back. She disappeared from the pass-through window and burst from the double doors, facing me down in all her sweaty beautiful glory.
Good God she was sexy when angry.
“Good enough?” she seethed, stepping closer to me until I felt the heat of her body flush against mine. She probably thought she was intimidating me, but she had all the fight of an angry kitten. Her anger only turned me on. My gaze fell to her plush pink lips and my dick went hard.
“I’ll show you good enough. Game on, motherfucker,” she growled, and spun, sauntering off into the kitchen.
Damn. What had I gotten myself into with this one? She was crazy, unpredictable with a temper of a grizzly bear, but there was something else there. Something sweet and passionate and holy hell could she cook.
I peeked my head back in the kitchen. “If you have more of that chicken stuff, I’ll take it. I mean we can’t go wasting food and I didn’t have dinner,” I grumbled.
Her lips cocked into a smile but she said nothing.
This woman was trouble, and I was too deep into whatever it was we were doing to back out now.
The hours passed slowly. Millie started to serve some new items and the whopping three customers we had that night seemed to love it. Big deal. It wouldn’t save this place. I should call Darcy and Gran right now and just sign the papers…
But something about the passion Millie put into this place, into the food, it reminded me of Jenna, dammit. If I let Millie try to make the place more profitable, was it like letting Jenna do her “Brunch at Wayne’s” idea? Could this be my way to assuage my guilt that my twin sister never got her dream?
My mind was fucked; I chewed over things for hours until closing. I wished I’d never let Millie come work here. She was messing up my routine.
With a sigh, I grabbed the keys and went to lock up for the night. I was just about to slide the key in to lock the doors when my dad stumbled in.
Oh Jesus. The stench of feces hit my nose and I pulled my shirt up to cover it. My dad staggered inside the entryway and nearly fell over, but I caught him in time.
Without warning, he leaned over my arm and retched up the contents of his stomach. Sour alcohol filled the air and I heard Millie’s footsteps behind me.
“God dammit!” I yelled at my old man as he slipped from my arms and fell to the floor. “Can’t you keep your shit together for a few days! You’ve made a mess that I’ll have to clean up!” Work, that’s all this man was for me. Work, heartache, and the reminder that I didn’t have a decent parent alive. If my mom could see him now, she’d roll over in her grave.
Millie walked up and nearly stepped in the vomit as my dad started mumbling incoherently.
I didn’t want her to see this, I didn’t want anyone to see what my father had become.
Reaching down, I hooked one arm under each of his armpits and started to drag him away from the front door.
He’d shit himself, I could smell it from here. Millie just stared wide-eyed at the both of us. I’d never been more embarrassed in my entire life. Why didn’t she fucking
