AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Now, Brock crossed his arms and leaned against the back door, clearly intent on blocking her.
Summer tried to ignore his bulging biceps and muscled forearms with their dusting of dark, wiry hair, and glared right back up at him. She’d faced down a lot worse in her years of working at the busiest restaurants in San Francisco.
“You don’t get to tell me ‘No,’” she pointed out in her most reasonable tone. “I’m your partner now, remember?” She couldn’t resist the temptation to meet his angry, dark eyes with a smirk. “Fifty-fifty partnership until the middle of September. And if I’m ‘Ms. Fancy Pants,’ do I get to call you ‘Mr. Grumpy Pants’?”
In response, he actuallygrowledat her. “Fuck you.”
“Only if you’re real nice to me… and buy me dinner first,” she shot back.
And instantly regretted it when she saw his jaw drop.
Where did THAT come from?she asked herself in shock.I sure as heck don’t want to give him the wrong idea.
She had a brief, vivid fantasy of him backing her against the door and kissing the hell out of her with the same aggression that had marked most of their exchanges so far. Her throat went dry, and an unexpected pulse of desire, hot and aching, kindled between her legs.
Crap. No. That would be such a bad idea.
It was his fault for being so sexy when he was angry. Or maybe she had a thing for big, angry men with big muscles and tight butts.
Brock wore his working clothes—a trucker’s cap, brim turned backwards; another one of those sinfully tight t-shirts; jeans; and comfortable sneakers.
Summer couldn’t be sure if the lamplight was playing tricks on her, but was he actuallyblushing?
She wore her loose, comfortable black-and-white checkered chef’s pants, with her white chef’s coat buttoned over it. The breast pocket of her coat had her name embroidered on it, along with the spray of delicate pink-and-white snowberry blossoms that formed her restaurant’s logo. The same snowberry design decorated the brim of the flat black skullcap jammed over her tightly braided hair.
“Brock, like it or not,” she said in her firmest tone, “I’m going to observe your breakfast service so that I can make more recommendations.”
“Oh, great. And then let me guess: you’ll have another fucking list for me?”
She grinned cheerily at him. “Yup. Guaranteed. But it’s all for a good cause. You want this place to turn a profit? I can help you do that… but only if you play nice.”
He glared at her for a moment longer, then straightened up.
“Fine,” he gritted, and turned to unlock the door.
To her surprise, he held it open for her. She stepped into the dark hallway and felt the heat radiating off his body as he entered behind her.
An instant later, the lights snapped on. He brushed past her and marched towards the kitchen.
“While you’re prepping for breakfast, I’m going to inspect your storeroom and your kitchen,” she called after him.
His back stiffened, but he kept walking. “Whatever. Just don’t move or reorganize anything without asking first.”
She bit back her first response and forced herself to say, “Okay.”
Despite his tone, it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Each chef had their preferred way of arranging equipment and inventory.
As Brock began working in the kitchen, Summer looked at the two doors on either side of the hall. One bore a plastic wood-grain sign with the word “Office.”
She opened the door and found a windowless room that resembled a walk-in closet.
A metal desk stood on one side of the room, the workspace crowded with a monitor, keyboard, laptop docking station, and an all-in-one copier/scanner/printer. A large, dented filing cabinet and bookshelves crammed with binders and hard-copy accounting ledgers took up the remaining wall space.
She shut the door, reminding herself to sit down with Brock after the diner closed today, and go over the week’s bills and receipts.
Based on his reaction to her request to observe breakfast service today, he’d probably blow his stack when she asked to see his income and expenditure.
Too bad.Grandma Abigail trusted her to come up with a plan to turn this place around. And to do that, Summer needed hard data.
