“She’s not from around here,” Jack interrupts impatiently. “Be careful around that cat. He nearly took a chunk out of me the first time I saw him.”
“So weird. He loves me and Kiara.” I bite back a grin at the black-as-night scowl on his face. “I can’t believe you didn’t save him!”
He crosses his arms, inked forearms flexing. “What, are you best friends with Ki now?”
I shrug. “Is that a problem?” At his continued glowering, I add, “It’s nice that your friends still care about you after all this time, you know.”
“Yeah, man,” Chester says. “Can’t we be happy to see you?”
“This is also the sort of stuff that people find interesting,” I inform Jack. “Returning to your hometown, reconnecting with your roots...”
“I don’t have roots.”
I shoot a confused look at Chester. He scratches his head uncomfortably.
“Don’t,” Jack says.
“She doesn’t know?”
“What don’t I know?”
Jack’s phone starts ringing, interrupting the suddenly tense silence. I startle, knocking the remaining onion onto the floor. Chester leans down to rescue it. Jack’s eyes sear into mine, a tangled forest of vine.
“Finish that,” he says as he pushes open the back door. “Then clean up your workstation.”
I gulp. “Heard.”
Chester rolls the onion over to me. He glances at the door Jack just went through, brows knit together. “Why are you chopping all these onions, anyway?”
“He’s teaching me how to cook.” I refasten the bandanna, braids looped underneath. “He wants me to learn about back of house stuff so I can promote the restaurant better.”
“What are you making, French onion soup?”
“I wish. This is just for practice.” I wipe the knife clean and start in on the onion. “Or torture. He can’t stand me.”
Chester’s gaze is still lingering on the door. “Right,” he says slowly.
“I’m here to help him reopen this place, but he keeps expecting me to quit and run home, even though branding and promoting a restaurant is literally the coolest opportunity I can think of.” I blow away a strand of hair that managed to escape the braids. “I’m not going anywhere. I adopted a Florida cat. I’m in it, now.”
“Know when he wants to reopen?”
“Early November.”
Chester whistles. “The start of Season, smart. If you need a bartender, I’d be happy to help. I design cocktails for the place I’m at, down in Delray.”
“The last time I brought someone onboard without asking first, Jack nearly bit my head off.” I roll my eyes at the memory. Herman, meanwhile, has been incredibly helpful, even bringing around some of the old crew to fix up the outside of the building. It’s starting to look presentable again. “But that sounds great to me. Maybe when we get further down the line, we can think up some drink specials.”
“Sounds good.” He smiles at me, his posture easy and self-assured, and puts his ball cap back on. “And hey, if you want a guide to what Diamond Bay has to offer, you know who to call.”
I flush lightly. “Maybe.”
“I’ll be around.” He knocks his knuckles against the edge of a sink. His gaze lingers, but not in a bad way. “Nice to meet you, Poppy. Tell Jack to text me later, okay? Gotta run to help my dad with a few things.”
It takes Jack a surprisingly long time to reappear after Chester leaves. I’ve cleaned up the onion mess and have been braving Instagram for research purposes when he finally comes back in, that customary scowl on his face. His hair looks even messier than before, as if he couldn’t help tugging on it.
“More permit trouble?” I ask as I add another restaurant to my growing list of comps for us to check out. I need to start assembling a mood board for the restaurant interior. Another thing to add to the to-do list. I open my notes app and jot it down, although not before being waylaid by several notifications. “By the way, Chester says he can bartend for us. He wants you to text him, so maybe you can—”
“These look better.” At Jack’s voice, I jerk my head up. He’s inspecting my new onion pile, nodding slightly. “Much more uniform. Good job.”
