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He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Which made him even madder than he already was.
“I read through it while I was waiting.” Her lip curled as she hefted the comb-bound tome. “You have way too many items and some truly terrible food photos in here. How the heck are you making any money? These prices can’t possibly cover your costs for ingredients plus overhead.”
Brock’s scowl returned. He knew she was right. But that didn’t mean he liked her pointing it out in her snotty voice.
He’d been meaning to update the menus and review the pricing. But with eleventy-million other things clamoring for his attention, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
Not to mention, Kenny had repeatedly warned him that he’d upset his loyal customers if he raised his prices.
“And while I’m on the subject of your menu—” she continued.
He groaned.Why? Why is she still talking?
The very last thing he wanted or needed this morning was this lecture from a stuck-up big-city chef.
Not to mention, every minute he spent out here meant tickets piling up back in the kitchen. At this rate, he’d still be cooking orders at closing time.
He opened his mouth to tell her off, but a glance at Mrs. S showed her hanging on Summer’s every word.Fuck me.
“—your wait staff should be more familiar with your specials,” Summer was saying. “Terri was very friendly, but she couldn’t tell us whether my grandmother’s order came with country fried potatoes or toast or both. And she had no idea what sides came with the meat loaf.”
Brock crossed his arms. He tried—and failed—to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Look, Summer, I get it. I do. But I’m really short-staffed at the moment, and I’m not inclined to be picky with the waitresses who actually bother to show up for their shifts.”
That was a real sore spot with him. Sure, this might just be a summer job for Terri and the others, but he’d been raised to believe that you always did your best by showing up and working hard.
“Hm,” Summer said again, and he gritted his teeth at her tone.
While they’d been sparring, Mrs. S had begun demolishing her huckleberry waffle with every sign of enjoyment. Now, she wiped her lips delicately on the paper napkin. “Summer, dear, are you telling me that you could help transform this diner into the kind of place that could handle a crowd of Yellowstone tourists?”
“Of course,” Summer said without hesitating. Her challenging blue gaze never left Brock. “These are exactly the kinds of problems I was trained to solve. In fact, while I was waiting during the hour or so it took for my lunch to arrive, I started making a list. I’ve already noticed fifteen major problems that need fixing.”
A list? She had the nerve to come intomyplace and make a fuckinglist?Who the hell does she think she is?
She smiled up at him, clearly inviting him to ask about her fucking list.
He glared down at her, refusing to take the bait.
His jaw began to ache from clenching his jaw muscles so hard. His dentist was going to have a conniption from all the teeth-grinding he was doing right now.
Silence stretched between them. Then, still looking coolly superior and more beautiful than anyone so annoying had a right to be, Summer gave a tiny shrug and turned back to her lunch.
Mrs. S stepped in to fill the conversational gap. “What did you have in mind, dear?” she asked Summer.
“Well, the very first thing would be to give this dining room a refresh to make it more modern and inviting.”
Brock couldn’t suppress the low growl rumbling through his chest. His diner wasplentyinviting. Hell, he had a full house most days, and people waiting outside for a table.
“The food is great,” Summer continued. But before Brock could bask in the compliment, she went on, “So it would make sense to add a dinner service, since that’s always the primary moneymaker for a restaurant. You did mention that this diner was currently struggling to maintain a positive balance sheet—”
A combination of burning humiliation and smoldering anger heated Brock’s face. Mrs. S had shared the diner’s financial information with her snotty granddaughter?Why the hell did she do that?
As if his day wasn’t already scraping the bottom of the shit barrel!
“—so, I’d also recommend that Brock here spend some time costing out his most popular menu items and adjusting the prices.” Summer turned back to Brock. “Analyze your receipts. Keep only those dishes that your customers are actually ordering, and cut the rest of them. Then you won’t need a, um,binderfor a menu.” Her cute nose wrinkled. “And for God’s sake, no photos. Get someone to design a cute logo for you, and keep the menu to one or two pages, tops.”
“Costing out?” Brock hated having to ask, thereby handing her a win. But neither Kenny or Mama had ever mentioned doing anything like that.
Summer’s brows rose in surprise, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know what that meant. “Food costs for aprofitablebreakfast and lunch place normally run about eighteen to twenty percent of the menu price. I know what my dad and brother charge for the ranch’s wholesale bison, so I’m guessing that you’re actually losing money on this meatloaf special once you calculate in your food costs plus overhead, like labor and utilities.”
