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“First of all, I’d like to thank our line cook, Marlene Wittenmeyer. Without her, Brock and I couldn’t have prepared all those dishes for you tonight.”
Summer turned and hugged Marlene briefly before continuing.
“My good friend Jenna Gomez of Jenna’s Java & Bakery provided most of this evening’s scrumptious desserts. And finally, I’d like to thank my new business partner, Brock Michaels, for being a good sport about letting me invade his kitchen, and for making all those fabulous strawberry shortcakes. They sold out tonight.”
To another round of applause, she went up tiptoes and hugged him, too. But even the delightful sensation of her breasts, round and firm against his chest, couldn’t distract him from the bitterness of defeat.
He’d been wrong. About everything. The dinner service, the popularity of the espresso drinks, and worst of all, the food. He’d been so sure that he knew what the people of Snowberry Springs wanted and liked.
In reality, he hadn’t known shit.
The realization burned his gut like acid.
But he liked to think that he wasn’t an idiot. The truth hurt, but he was a big boy. He could take it… especially if it meant that his diner would be profitable by Abigail’s deadline.
He hugged her back, then straightened up and raised one hand. “Folks, thanks so much for coming out tonight and supporting my—ourdiner. Your support means everything to us.”
∞∞∞
“Hah! I was right! Wekilledit tonight!” Summer crowed, leaning over Brock’s shoulder to peer at the computer screen. “That’s, what, triple the amount of yesterday’s sales?”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” Brock grumbled. The heat of her hand soaking through his t-shirt distracted him from the numbers.
It was late, and the two of them were alone in the diner. After cleanup, everyone else had clocked out. Summer and Brock had retreated to the office to review tonight’s receipts and enter them into the bookkeeping program.
Summer chuckled, her breath warm on the back of his neck. “Just this one time, admit I was right about adding dinner service. And about closing for breakfast and lunch today. In return, I promise I’ll never mention it again.”
He blew out a breath and scowled at the screen. But the numbers in the accounting software didn’t lie. They’d made a shitload of money tonight.
But what came out of his mouth was, “You won the contest, didn’t you? Go ahead, lord it over me. I lost, fair and square.”
Her touch vanished. She straightened up. “Jeez, Brock. You really can’t do it, can you? Can’t admit I actually I know what I’m doing!”
She sounded hurt.
Then she spun on her heel and strode out of the cramped office.
He heard her footsteps in the tiled hallway. And he was suddenly, absolutely certain that if he didn’t stop her now, she wasn’t coming back.
She drove him crazy in more ways than one, but if she left, Abigail Snowberry’s deal was history and he’d be royally screwed.
“Summer, wait.” The ancient office chair creaked loudly as he pushed his way up and out of it.
Soft clattering and scraping sounds led him to the kitchen.
She stood at the kitchen’s prep counter, gathering up her knives and peelers and thermometers, and packing them in her well-worn canvas knife roll.Shit.
“What are you doing?” he said, coming up behind her.
She slid her wickedly-sharp, very high-end chef’s knife into the pocket made for it, and kept her back to him. “Trying to decide whether my half of the diner is worth dealing withyou.”
He froze.
“Answer me this: are you willing to institute Friday and Saturday night dinner service, even if it means hiring more staff?”
“Why do you care?” he shot back. “You won the fucking contest, Summer. You’re the boss for the next twenty-four hours. You want dinner service, you’ve got dinner service.”
“For crying out loud, Brock!” She slammed her hands down on the spotless stainless-steel counter. “Tonight wasn’t about winning—though I won’t lie, it felt good to beat a worthy opponent. It was about making changes to this place thatwork. And to do that, we both have to be willing to try something new. Not just when there’s a stupid contest!”
