There was a knock at the door and I yelped in excitement as I stared down at the FedEx package lying at my feet.
It was from Julie with all my favorite clothes, makeup, shoes, and essentials. Including sheets and my comforter! I’d been sleeping with a borrowed set from Mrs. Pennyweather, a cat face print that smelled of marijuana.
I dug around the box, pulling things out, and grinned as my eyes fell on my knife set and white chef coat! Bless you, Julie. With it was a note.
I’m going to hell for helping you do this crazy thing.
Love, Julie
Flat ironing my hair, putting on makeup, slipping my feet into my Dansko leather clogs, and pulling on my crisp white chef’s coat, made me come alive. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time, I finally felt like I had a purpose. Although last night should have derailed me, it only served to make me want to help Ashton more.
He’d given me a key to the restaurant, so I decided to slip in early and prep some food for later—right after I went to the hardware store and got a window A/C unit. No more sweaty chef. I had five days until the party on Saturday, until my last-ditch attempt to prove to him I could make this place profitable. The thousand flyers I’d stuck around town were coupled with a Facebook page for Wayne’s Place that I’d made and an event page. Last night we had thirty-six people interested, but I couldn’t sleep after leaving Ashton’s, so I made a graphic that said: Free Craft Beer with every order of Avocado Toast, and the numbers went up to over two hundred! The huge chalkboard street sign menu I’d ordered had arrived, and I couldn’t wait to write all the new items for the world to see.
I was scrubbing down the kitchen, marveling at the cool air blowing on me from the new A/C unit, when Ashton walked in.
“What’s this doctor getup? Isn’t it too early for Halloween costumes?”
I stiffened for a second, worried about things being awkward from last night and his dad, but decided not saying anything was best.
“Ha ha! I went to one of the finest chef schools in the world. I earned this coat.”
“Prove it. Make me breakfast,” he said.
That sounded like both a challenge and a manipulative way to get me to cook for him, but I didn’t care. I was going to make him beg for my food.
“Coming right up, boss!”
An hour later, I served him my famous eggs benedict with bacon cheese hash browns. We sat together eating quietly while he all but licked the plate clean.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I asked. “Can I continue to call myself a chef?”
He looked at me behind those dark lashes, blue eyes piercing into me. “What if we offered brunch? Think that would bring in money?”
I sat up straighter, a small sliver of hope that he might actually be on board to save this place.
“Yeah.” My voice brightened. “Brunch would be great. We could do nine to noon, then close until four for dinner.”
He rubbed his chin, assessing me with inquisitive eyes. “What’s your story? Why are you over here working basically for free and taking my shit, when we both know you could go cook at one of these fancy restaurants in town?”
Panic flooded my system. Should I tell him about Colin? This was a pretty perfect time to tell him. I mean it was pretty crazy that I would just continue to work here after he told me he was selling the place and had no intention of really paying me a decent wage.
“Well…” I hedged, “I had my own cupcake shop in New York City. It failed and I was hoping to have a second shot. Have a shot at making something work out.” Okay, it was a modified version of the truth. I wasn’t ready to drop the big truth bomb yet.
His gaze became suspicious. “And what’s in it for you? Helping me save this place…?”
Fuck.
“Maybe … if we can turn this place around, you’ll make me a partner. Sell me half the bar.”
Wait what? Where the hell did that come from?
He chuckled. “You don’t want half of this shithole. Trust me.”
I crossed my arms. “Try me.”
He gave me a long look over his glass of orange juice that I’d freshly squeezed myself. “I had twenty thousand dollars in my savings account before I took this place over from my dad five years ago. Bastard didn’t tell me that it was going in the hole every month. Now I have nothing. Some things are better left dead.”
I frowned. “It’s not dead yet. Just wait until this Saturday.”
He chuckled, eyeing me over the rim of his juice, and my stomach warmed under his gaze. “If this Saturday makes it magically rain money from the sky, we can talk some more.”
With that, he got up and took our two empty plates back to the kitchen.
What he’d just said gave me hope. He was giving me until Saturday!
I pulled out my phone then and texted Julie.
Me: Help. I think I’m living a grand delusion. I just offered to buy half of his bar…
She texted back right away.
Julie: WTF. Call your shrink!
I shot her back a text.
Me: He lost someone too, Julie. A year ago, when I lost Colin, he lost someone…
Her reply took only a
