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We all laugh. Then Jared’s eyes meet mine. “What would you do with a million dollars, Mik?”
“I’d give everyone a raise,” I announce, and the kitchen staff cheers.
“Seriously, though,” he presses. “What would you do with the winnings?”
“It’s a moot point since I don’t play the lottery.”
Bryce rolls his eyes. “We’re daydreaming, boss. Play along.”
I pause in chopping the bell pepper, taking a second to consider it. “I’d expand Mercury Slice. Every night, we’re forced to turn customers away because there’s not enough space. I’d make the dining area bigger and hire more staff. I’d also open a second location by Lake Mercury.”
“I’ll transfer there,” Bryce volunteers.
I raise an eyebrow. “If you can’t date European supermodels, you may as well wine and dine bikini-clad locals?”
He flashes a toothy grin. “Something like that.”
“What about you, Jared?” I attempt a lighthearted tone but fail miserably. My eyes meet his. “What’s your dream?”
“He’d travel the world, too,” Bryce says, “but he’d do it with a backpack and all his climbing gear.”
Jared nods. “That would be fun.”
“What about law school?” I blurt.
His eyes swivel to mine. “What?”
My mouth is suddenly as dry as dust. “I think you’d be a great lawyer.”
An unreadable look crosses his face. Then he laughs, pointing both thumbs at his chest. “Me? Yeah, right. Can you picture me in a courtroom?”
“Not with that hat,” Bryce says, leaning over to thump Jared’s St. Patrick’s Day cowboy hat.
My heart roars in my chest, but I force myself to play it cool. I tilt my head, pretending to inspect Jared. “I supposed Judge Vance would never allow it. I think she blames you for the green teeth as much as she blames me.”
The truth is, I think Jared can do anything he wants, anywhere he wants. He’s smart enough, kind enough, and certainlyhandsomeenough to succeed in any field.
And that thought scares me to death.
Chapter 3
Mikki
Glancingatmywatch,I sigh with relief. We’re in the home stretch. The last orders have been taken, and in five or so minutes, Mitch will announce the last call for alcohol.
My feet are aching, every crevice of my body is soaked with sweat, and I’ve probably gotten in twenty-thousand steps tonight.I really should start wearing a Fitbit—at least then the steps would count for something.
I lean against the hostess stand to give my feet a quick break while scanning the restaurant for areas that need my attention. But everything seems to be under control.
All night, the topic of conversation has been about the winning lottery ticket and what it’d be like to be the winner.
Looking around the restaurant, I already feel like a millionaire. The pizzeria is stuffed to the gills with diners, but my staff is bringing their A-game, keeping a tight rein on the controlled chaos. Suddenly, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of affection for all of them—and for the diners, too. They’ve all come together to make Mercury Slice the go-to spot in town.
The loudspeaker crackles to life. “Yo, ho. This is Mitch, your friendly bartender announcing last call for alcohol.”
Break’s over.It only lasted thirty seconds, but there’s a bit more pep in my step as I head to the bar to help Mitch serve the last customers of the night.
“Another St. Patrick’s Day in the books, boss,” Mitch says with a grin, passing me several mugs of beer to deliver to the waiting customers.
