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I take a deep breath. Blink, the room righting itself.
I head for the door. Only it’s the one I absolutely, positively should not walk through.
four
Riley
Hate Fucking is Always a Bad Idea
Chef Penelope is walking me through tomorrow’s specials when the door to the prep kitchen swings open.
Glancing behind me, my pulse thunders when I see Lu standing in the threshold. Her shoulder-length blonde hair is a wild mess, tossed to the side like she’s been tearing her hands through it. Her nostrils flare.
Her eyes are burning. I am too.
Christ.
I’ve got my palms wrapped around the edge of the counter, bent over Chef’s notebook. Rising, I’m painfully aware of the way Lu’s eyes follow mine up. Up. The anger I see in them makes my chest vibrate.
Girl ain’t afraid to look me in the eye. I like that.
Too damn much. I thought I was over her. I am over her.
Why, then, does my skin feel several degrees too hot with her in the room?
“What the fuck?” she spits out. My dick perks up, even as my stomach clenches when she sways a little on her feet.
Was seeing me the reason she’s so tipsy? Or she got other reasons for being shitfaced on a Tuesday night?
The kitchen goes quiet. Beside me, Chef murmurs, “Oh, my.”
“Let’s talk in my office. Now.” I point to a door in the far corner.
Penelope gently elbows me. “You all right here?”
“I’ll be fine. Give me five.”
“Of course.”
There’s a soft rustle as Chef and her team get back to business.
Eyes on fire, Lu cuts me one last death glare before stalking toward my office. I follow her inside and shut the door.
Then it’s just me and Lu in the dimly lit space. Ten feet and ten years’ worth of unspoken words between us.
She turns and stares me down. “This is your restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“You opened it?”
“Yes.”
“You paid for it.”
“I did.”
“Designed it too? The furniture and the menu and the—the fucking drinks?”
“Yup.”
Now it’s my entire body that thunders as she gets in my face. Ten feet becomes ten inches. Less.
How do I explain myself in a way that doesn’t make me look like an asshole? How do I prove I’m not the guy she thinks I am? I let her believe I was a lying, cheating piece of shit, yes, but my reasons for that were good.
None of it is true. But she doesn’t know that, so it makes perfect sense why she hates my guts right now.
“You stole everything,” she hisses. “All my ideas. The cheese straws and the pirate theme. The fried oysters and the Stevie Nicks. I came up with all this stuff.”
I lick my lips. I need to tread carefully here. I’m dying to tell her the truth.
But I also don’t want to open old wounds. Fuck with her head. Especially when she’s drunk. What’s the point of telling her all this when she’s moved on anyway?
Hell, I almost made her cry when I offered to buy her a drink. What if it’s easier for her if I keep playing the scumbag? At least that way, she knows where she stands. I get how me being the good guy might throw her for a loop. Come across as bullshitty.
I grit my teeth. The way my stomach seizes at the idea has me wondering if I’m making a mistake. But if that mistake helps her sleep better at night . . .
I puff up my chest and look down at her. Try very hard to ignore the heaviness that gathers between my legs at the sharp, hungry glint in her eyes. “I helped you brainstorm the concept for the restaurant.”
“Does it matter? You’re the one who owns it now. Whether or not you’re able to claim half the ideas, you own the whole damn thing. I have zero.” She holds up her hand, curling her fingers into a circle. “Fucking zero. How dare you? After everything—”
“Maybe I opened the restaurant because I knew you wouldn’t.”
She blinks, gaze murderous. But her cheeks, her neck—they’re flushed.
It’s her tell. I remember clear as day how pink she’d get when I turned her on. I’d follow the color trail with my mouth, starting at her chest. I’d nick her collarbones with my teeth. Kiss her neck, making her breath catch, then move to the hollow beneath her ear. Her jaw. Her lips.
Now I’m the one feeling murderous, knowing she’s sensing it too. The pull between us.
She should fucking know better.
We both should know better. I gotta get her out of here—
Lu gives me a hard shove. I fall back, shocked and embarrassed and goddamn my dick just went full salute.
She’s still got fight in her. Thank God.
“You know nothing about me,” she spits. “Absolutely nothing. But I know you’re a thief. A thief and a huge, huge asshole.”
The arrow hits its mark. Considering how bad I wanna touch her right now, I am being an asshole.
