by Piper Rayne
“Order in the window,” Chef Chris called from behind the tiny opening in the faux brick wall.
“Is it mine?” Taryn cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. That was definitely the wrong thing to say to Chef.
“You must be kidding?” Chef snorted. “Are you really this inept? Honestly, I don’t know how you still have a job. You should have been fired the first day.”
Taryn’s face fell, even if only slightly. It looked as if recognition might have flashed in her eyes. That was too far, even for Chef. She needed to learn some boundaries and respect for her co-workers. James started toward where Taryn was still standing half-dazed from the way too-close-to-home comments from Chef when a middle-aged man grabbed James’s arm.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you the manager?”
“I am.” Great. Another complaint. Just what we need right now.
“I just wanted to say that the new waitress you hired is doing a great job.” The man was just slightly shorter than James and didn’t have near as much hair. His smile was contagious as he nodded toward Taryn. “She’s clearly new, but she’s trying really hard. My order isn’t that easy to get right, I’ve got quite a few dietary restrictions and she didn’t miss a beat. She got it perfect.”
“Thank you for saying that sir.” Maybe that will make Taryn’s night a little better after having to deal with Chef at the window. “I’ll be sure to let her know.” He smiled and headed back toward the window, but Taryn was already gone. Gah. She’s probably rushing to figure something else out before she has to ask for help. It had to be difficult needing to ask for help but not being able to. That was something he knew a little about. James eventually saw her back in the window. Her eyebrows pinched together in a confused gaze that shifted back and forth between the garnish at the station.
“You know, this one looks nice with the beef.” He smiled and garnished the dish. “It also adds a nice extra bit of flavor.”
“Does anyone really ever really eat the garnish with their meal?” she snapped and immediately winced. He wondered if she was already chastising herself for getting upset. Maybe she wasn’t the tough-as-nails type after all. “It’s so much to have to remember,” she sighed.
“Not usually.” He shook his head. “But doesn’t it make it better to know it has a purpose instead of just there to look pretty and then get slid into the trash bin.”
“That’s fair.” She nodded and grabbed the same selections for the next dish. “It helps to know why you’re doing something instead of just doing it because you have to.” Taryn’s selection worked, but only because the plates were exactly the same.
He turned to scan the dishes that would be coming to the window next. Her garnish selection wouldn’t work every time. “You’re right.” He spun back around to find that she was already around the corner of the station and greeting a new set of diners with the empty tray stashed under her arm. He pulled a stack of notecards from the drawer under the computer and scribbled the garnish names and their most common dishes on them and taped them to the counter in front of each receptacle. That should do it.
“Order in the window,” Chef Chris barked.
James saw Taryn jump. She probably doesn’t know if what Chef’s calling for is on her list, or not. She tried, nonetheless. Chef plated the dish and slid it into the window while Taryn moved to the side of the window and glanced up at the ticket without calling attention to herself. She might have lied to get the job, but she is doing the best she can with what she has to work with. If she lied on her resume, which she clearly did, he was sure there must have been a good reason. Regardless, it was his job to help her do the best she could, and that was a job he intended on excelling at. Calling her out would only cause her more embarrassment and bring down the whole team from the lack of morale. Her confidence seemed to grow throughout the dinner service as she reached for the garnish from the station. He smiled and wondered if his notecard labels were helping to make her night just a little easier. He hoped they were. Taryn clearly had enough to deal with, and she wasn’t so bad—as far as a co-worker was concerned anyway. He pushed away thoughts of getting to know her outside work. There’s no time for that.
The End… for now.
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About the Author
International bestselling author of sweet and sassy romance. Her stories are guaranteed to make you laugh, smile, and ugly happy cry. She is also Supermom to three home-schooled kids--powered by coffee and Dr. Pepper.
* * *
Read More from Mandy
The Bartender and the Businessman
By Riley James & Ann C. Orlandi
Riley James & Ann C. Orlandi
The Bartender and the Businessman
When business and barbecue clash, sparks fly! Can Red save Granny’s before it’s gobbled up, or will she fall in love with the Big Bad Wolf?
* * *
Ellie ‘Red’ Thompson is used to being on her own. Especially after a massive scandal obliterated life as she knew it. Now she’s home in Devil’s Hood; a town Red swore she’d left behind. Between managing Granny’s bar, nosy townspeople, and a stranger offering to buy the business, Red’s too busy to notice that she’s lonely.
* * *
But sell her family’s secret barbecue formula to the sexy man in a suit? No thanks. She doesn’t need a six-foot, chiseled, arms-that-could-knead-bread-for-days, celebrity chef trying to change everything that makes Granny’s special.
* * *
Brandon Wolfe is on the hunt. Having made a name for himself flipping local delicacies into viral brands, he’s always looking for the next big thing. And that thing is Granny’s Barbecue Sauce. He’s determined to sign the deal and make it a global success, no matter who’s standing in his way. Even if that person is a sexy redhead with sharp green eyes and an even sharper tongue.
* * *
To appease her grandmother, Red agrees to hear Brandon out about his plans for Granny’s. But despite the tension and desire simmering between them, both are determined to keep it professional, and to be the one that wins—no matter what.
* * *
But when Ellie’s past comes calling, will Red will lose everything a second time? Or will she be saved by the Big Bad Wolfe?
Copyright © 2020 Riley James & Ann C. Orlandi
* * *
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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1
Ellie
If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the ten years that I’ve been gone, it’s the Friday Night Rush. An interesting blend of locals and tourists that come to Devil’s Hood to experience the amazing barbecue. But tonight, that’s not the main attraction here.
I am.
The girl who came back.
It’s only been a few weeks since I arrived back in the town I ran away from, and I’m still a novelty. The girl who disappeared to a magical, mythical life in New York and is now back with her tail between her legs. I hate it.
The only small comfort I have is that no one in this town knows what happened. If they did, the stares wou
ld be a lot more obvious.
Small town gossip is a beast of its own, always hungry for the next piece of drama. All I have to do is keep my head down and not do anything interesting for another few weeks, and everyone will move on from my mysterious reappearance.
Then I can move on to proving to everyone that I’m not the same person that I was in high school. That girl doesn’t exist anymore. I worked hard to get rid of her. But those memories are all these people have of me. The crazy wild child that got into trouble and slept around and was constantly the center of town talk.
I know they’re hoping that I’ll be that person again, but I won’t.
With that bartender sixth sense, I know that someone is waiting at the bar behind me. My stomach sinks when I see Caleb Bowers standing there. He and I had a fling when we were in high school. Which is a kinder way of saying that we fucked in the back of his car when we were high. No emotions involved, just okay chemistry and decent sex.
But he’s a customer now, and I do what I do best: Put on a smile and charm.
“What can I get you, Caleb?”
He looks me up and down, savoring me a little more than is comfortable. “That depends, Red. What are you offering?”
I force myself to not react to the nickname I left behind ten years ago. But I’ve heard it nearly every day since I’ve been back in Devil’s Hood. My hair is a fiery red that’s rare. So predictably, I ended up as Red.
There are worse nicknames, but it was nice to just have all of my friends call me Ellie. Though after everything that’s happened, maybe having a different identity is good.
“We offer a variety of alcoholic beverages, and of course the kitchen is still open, so I can grab you a menu. I hear the barbecue is the best around.”
Caleb grins. “You know that’s not what I mean, Red.”
I stare at him with a blank face. “Then what do you mean?”
Bartending in New York, I had to deal with plenty of guys like him. They assume that they’re sex on a stick and that you automatically want what they have to offer. Usually, simply calling them on their bluff is enough for them to back down.
“Come on. You know what I’m asking. We used to have a good time together in high school.”
“Can I get you something to drink? Otherwise I have other customers waiting.”
He’s leaning over the bar now, eyes still roaming over my body like he thinks I won’t notice. “I’ll drink whatever you give me, Red. Especially if I have a chance to drink you.”
I snort. “Not going to happen.”
Caleb catches my hand as I’m turning away, and yanks me close. My hip slams into the bar, and I wince. That’s going to leave a bruise. His breath is hot on my face, smelling like cigarettes and stale cornbread. But not alcohol. He’s not remotely drunk, he’s just an asshole.
“We were so good together, babe.”
“I’m not your babe.”
He grips my hand tighter. “But you could be. I know you just got back into town so you can’t have found anyone new yet. And frankly, you probably won’t. But I’ve already seen the worst of you, and as good as I was back then…I’m even better now.”
His other hand snakes up to the back of my neck, and he pulls me in for a kiss. That’s when I make my move. Turning my hand, I reverse his grip so I’m the one holding his wrist and pull his arm towards me with a twist. It takes him by surprise, his head slamming down into the surface of the bar as I bend his hand.
Caleb yells in pain, and the rest of the bar goes silent. There goes my plan to lie low for a few weeks. This alone will fuel the rumor mill for days. Might as well go all out then. “Listen, asshole. Just because we fucked in high school doesn’t give you the right to touch me—or anyone else—without permission. I told you no, and you did it anyway. If you touch me again, I’ll cut your dick off. And from what I remember, it wasn’t that impressive to begin with.”
No one moves or speaks or breathes. The only sound is the low rock music coming from the speakers in the ceiling.
“You bitch,” Caleb says, trying to move and groaning against the hold I have him in. But this isn’t about strength, and this pose has taken down larger men than him. “You think that just because you moved to a city for ten years you’re better than the rest of us?”
“Johnny,” I call across the room to my bouncer. “Get this piece of shit out of my bar.”
I hold him down against the wood until Johnny takes him from me and walks him out, hand gripping the back of his shirt the entire time. He tosses him out with a bit more force than necessary. I shouldn’t smile at that, but I do.
It takes a minute for the conversation in the bar to resume, and another couple minutes for the level of sound to return to its hectic norm. And I know what they’re all talking about. I sigh and rub my bare arms for a moment. I want to take a shower to wash the touch off me, but there’s at least two hours left till closing.
“You okay?” Johnny appears behind the bar.
“Yeah. Thanks. But he doesn’t get to come back, got it?”
Johnny nods. “Got it. I’ll add him to the ban list. Shouldn’t be too hard. We don’t have many of those.”
“Am I overreacting?”
The big man laughs. “Fuck no. He got what was coming to him. Hell, I’ve had to throw him out of here more times than not over the last few years. Trust me. No one will miss him.”
“Thanks, Johnny.”
He grins. “Anytime, boss.”
I roll my eyes. That’s still so weird. And it’s going to be weird for a while. Granny’s doesn’t belong to me. Not yet, anyway. It belongs to my grandmother. But now that I’m back, I’m in charge. In every way. That was made clear by my grandmother at one of the most embarrassing all-staff meetings in the history of staff meetings.
Luckily the people employed at Granny’s are great, though they’ve probably enjoyed giving me a hard time a little too much.
Taking a moment, I just breathe. I’m not going to let people like Caleb get under my skin. I’m not the same person that I was. I’m not.
But the news stories and the photos pop into my mind. Even if none of it was true. It still makes me feel the same. Like a failure. Utterly worthless. Running out on everything I had for the second time in my life.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a wave, and I move toward it out of instinct. That’s the life of a bartender. You see and you move. But the person waiting for me at the end of the bar isn’t like a lot of the patrons that we get at Granny’s.
He’s wearing a slick suit, no tie, shirt unbuttoned, and he’s gorgeous. It looks like he could have walked out of my old life in New York. Right out of a model casting, but he has a little more grit than that. Dark hair and a jawline I could use to cut the lemon slices I need for the drinks.
I don’t like men who wear suits. Been fooled too many times by an exterior that hid someone who was rotting underneath. But when he smiles…
It makes me want to ignore it, at least for a little while. He’s not a local, which makes him even more appealing. If only he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, we wouldn’t have a problem. It’s like looking at a Vincent Van Gogh painting that someone has splashed ketchup in the middle of. It’s still beautiful, but you can’t ignore the big fucking stain.
He looks at me; but it’s not the same way that Caleb did. This gaze is alight with genuine interest and curiosity, not possessive lust. And that smile was enough to almost forget my barside manner. “What can I get for you?”
“What’s the best local beer that you have on the menu?”
There’s a plate of wings in front of him, half-eaten. So he’s already tried the barbecue. Probably because he’s heard about it and now wants to try something else local to match. It’s a pretty common thing for tourists to do.
“Most people like the Desert Rose,” I say. “But if you’re looking for something to match the sauce, then I’d go with the Devil’s Ditch.”
He makes a skeptical face. “R
eally?”
“Don’t let the name fool you,” I laugh. “It’s named after the location, not the taste.”
“All right then, I’ll give it a try.” He raises an eyebrow. “Seems like you guys have a lot of things named after the devil around here.”
Fishing a bottle of the beer out of the fridge, I crack the top and slide it over to him. “That’s what happens when you live somewhere that’s hotter than hell on a regular basis.”
“Good one.”
I smirk. “I do try.”
The stranger takes a sip of the beer and hesitates for a minute. “You’re right, that’s really good.”
“Bartender is right about the drinks she serves, news at eleven.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. So people come here for the barbecue?”
