I roll my eyes at her antics. “Let’s say that I do, and then what? I just start doing cooking segments and posting them online?”
That’s ... not a bad idea, honestly. I mean, how many people are famous from filming content in the comfort of their own homes?
“Maybe I could,” I think out loud. “While Kelsey is in Georgia, I can delegate some of my responsibilities to her.”
“She’s in town?” Paige asks in obvious disbelief.
Kelsey isn’t Paige’s favorite person ... Kelsey isn’t most people’s favorite person. But she’s my sister. So it’s not like I can get rid of her, even if I wanted to.
“For a couple of weeks, maybe a month,” I explain. “She came to help me with the restaurant—not that she’s done much. John is here, and so far, they’ve had a billion excuses to travel up and down Georgia while forgetting all about me.”
She promised to help until I hire more part-time staff for the weekends. But so far, all she’s given me is a few lame excuses and a headache.
To change the subject, I decide to bring up Ollie.
“Did you hear that Oliver Tanner is back in town?”
She squints. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Josey Tanner’s son,” I say. “He worked as a waiter for a couple of years.”
Paige wrinkles her nose. “Kelsey’s ex?”
I hate when she refers to him as that. I hold back a frustrated groan. No matter how many times I tell her they broke up years ago, she still sees him as an accessory my sister played with until she got bored.
“Yeah, that one,” I say dryly. “He’s staying at his mom’s while he decides what to do with his life.”
“Is he as hot as I remember him?” she asks.
I smirk. Oliver is good looking. He has tousled light brown hair, which is thick and lustrous. His eyes are a mesmerizingly deep ocean blue, and flecks of silvery light dance throughout them. His face is strong and well defined. His features look like they were molded from granite. He has thick eyebrows, which slope downward in a severe expression.
My stomach makes a few flips as I remember his playful smile. My body shivers, remembering the tingles that his strong hands created when they touched me. They were rough but warm. And when those beefy arms wrapped around my body, it felt perfect. His body was toned and inviting as he hugged me. Everything about him was comforting. His voice was deep and rich. We saw each other a couple of days ago, but I’m still thinking about him.
His laugh is gruff but light, like the roar of a freshly tuned engine. It was a relief to hear it. It reminded me of the way we’ve always been so comfortable with each other. I wished he hadn’t left, or that he had come back sooner. The sound of the locker doors opening and closing snap me out of my musings.
“He’s alright,” I say, casually tucking a bit of hair behind my ear.
Paige crosses her arms. “Uh huh, and Chris Evans is an overweight farmhand.”
I blush furiously. “You noticed that too, huh?”
She chuckles still staring at me like she’s expecting a five-page essay on his stubble—it was sexy.
“Well this has been exhausting and humiliating," I say lightly. "Gotta run. Maybe next we could skip the cardio and work on our glutes?”
Paige rolls her eyes. “For the last time, sitting on a couch isn’t exercising anything.”
“One of these days I’ll prove you wrong.” I wink before pushing the locker room door open.
↔
Oliver
At four in the morning, I jump out of bed, throw on a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and go out for a run. I take Main Street. Outside, the same sidewalk that will bustle in a few short hours is quiet, the concrete oblivious to whether it is midday or midnight. The birds are already singing. Some cars are cruising along with their headlights cutting through the early fog. The mist keeps my skin wet and cold as I pound through the streets. It’s chilly for July, but once the sun comes up, the thought of a cool morning will become a distant memory.
The world is almost silent. My senses are on high alert, taking in new information from my surroundings with every step. That’s when I spot a truck outside Blythe’s. As I approach, I see Kaitlynn is beside it, holding some papers and bobbing her head.
“What are you doing here so early, Kit Kat?”
She jolts. “Oliver, I didn’t expect to see you around.”
“That’s all for today, Miss Blythe.” The guy in the truck jumps out and stands next to Kaitlynn. “Do you need anything else?”
“The produce looks perfect, all fresh. I think it’s all good.” She glances around the crates and then back at him. “Thank you.”
“You need any help hauling it inside? I can offer you a hand,” the guy says with a flirty tone.
“I’ll help her,” I intercede.
“You don’t have to.” She yawns. “I can take care of this myself. I do it all the time.”
I take a closer look at her. She looks worn out. The way she slouches against the crates of fruit while fighting to keep her eyes open. The bags under her eyes look like they have bags of their own. They’re swollen and almost purple. It makes me wonder how much makeup she piles onto her face every morning.
“What time did you get home last night?” I ask.
“Two-ish?” She picks up one of the boxes making her way to the restaurant.
I pick up the rest and follow behind her.
“You look like you need to go back to bed.”
“If I could, I would,” she says slowly, rubbing her eyes. “But that’s not possible.”
“How often do you do this?”
“Every day, I close between one and two and have to be back at four to receive the produce, or the catch of the day or …” She shrugs.
I shake my head. This isn’t right. A restaurant takes a large staff to make it work. There’s managers, accountants, and administrators that can be paid to do things like this. She’s the owner, she should be delegating work out to trusted employees, not shouldering all the responsibility on her own. How is she managing this place? Kaitlynn helped her parents, but she trained to be a chef—and a television producer. She doesn’t have a business degree and never cared to learn that part of the restaurant business. Maybe I should find out how she’s managing this place. There has to be some way I can help her run it more smoothly.
4
Kaitlynn
I’m elbow deep in pasta dough when my phone rings. It’s the start of the Friday night rush. My staff is shorthanded, again, and few people have the number to my personal cell. I put down the dough, already glaring in my phone’s direction. Reading the caller ID makes my blood boil.
It’s Kelsey.
“Where are you?” I bark instead of saying hello. “You were supposed to be here at noon to help with lunch.”
“John wanted to go to the aquarium. Traffic’s so bad here, we’re planning on staying the night and heading over in the morning.”
“Atlanta is only three hours away,” I argue. “I could still use you at nine. This crowd isn’t getting any smaller.”
“It’s five in traffic,” she mentions casually, as if we’re talking about the weather. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re doing fine without me. You’re way better at that chef thing.”
I barely hold back a groan. So, it’s going to be one of those days with Kelsey.
“But I need you here to wait tables not cook.”
“Gross,” she says. “I’m not a stupid teenager anymore, Kaitlynn. You really can’t expect me to put on a uniform and let creepy old men ogle me.”
“When has that ever happened?”
“It could happen,” she insists. “I’m a hot commodity in New York. People love me up there.”
“If they love you so much, why are you even down here?” I ask sarcastically.
“Because my baby sister needs my help,” she says innocently.
I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose. Does she think I’m an idiot?
>
“What’s the real reason, Kelsey? Don’t waste my time by pretending you care about this restaurant ... or me.”
I hear her sighing. “Ugh, fine. My rent went up and we need more cash to cover the difference.”
“I thought your place was rent controlled,” I say.
“Yeah, apparently the landlord thought I was single. Which is why it was so cheap to live there,” she explains.
I want to bang my head on the metal counter, but that would fuck up my noodles.
“I really don’t have time for this, Kelsey,” I say tersely. “You want money? Get your butt down here and earn it.”
“But Katy—”
“No buts,” I say. “I’m not mom, and you’re not a fucking child. Get it together and help me or go home.”
I imagine her face turning a deep shade of red as she screams “You think you’re so great carrying on Mom and Dad’s little pet project. You’re just too pathetic and scared to do something real with your life, Kaitlynn. Why don’t you get a fucking grip?”
She hangs up before I can argue further. For the next few minutes, I finish slicing the pasta as quickly as I can. Before I do something stupid, like closing the restaurant and going home to plan my big move.
I love Knox Ridge, but on days like today, I want to pack my things and run. I could chase my dreams. Everyone I know has done that. Well, except Oliver who seemed a little lost when he came to visit. Focus on the restaurant, I order myself. Organizing the next few orders, I realize it’s been a few days since Ollie came to visit—a week, but who’s counting? He hasn’t come by or contacted me since.
He promised to come by and instead he just ... disappeared. Maybe we outgrew each other after all these years sending letters back and forth—though we stopped after my parents died. Maybe we aren’t as close as I once thought. Maybe he expected someone more like the image he built in his mind while stuck in the desert. Perhaps he was hoping to find some exciting career woman or the same old Kaitlynn he left here. But instead, he found ... this. A burnt-out restaurant owner with no concrete future. Nothing is interesting or inspiring about who I’ve become.
I suppose I misunderstood the pleasant visit we had. I thought I was getting my old friend back.
Maybe our friendship is going to be different now, or perhaps it’s over. Is that why I keep thinking about him and his delicious body?
I mean, he’s gotten hotter while he was away. The little crush I once had grew several sizes after seeing him. Something in him awakens my sensual side which has been asleep for months ... years really. When was the last time I got laid? It was probably my ex, Connor. But that was back in Atlanta. We said we’d try long distance, but we quickly drifted apart until we were out of touch and each other’s lives completely. None of my relationships have worked out so far.
Oliver predicted that would happen because I was dating douchebags. He never had anything good to say about Steve, Harvey, Sam, or Connor, despite not meeting a single one of them in person. Oliver didn’t have a good thing to say about any relationship since Kelsey dumped him.
Poor Ollie. She did a number on him. I can’t believe no one has snatched him off the market. He’s not your typical guy. He’s calm under pressure, and he’s always there when you need him. He’s the kind of person who knows something’s wrong from a thousand miles away. He can make any day brighter just with a simple text message or a letter. Not that I’ve received either one from him in a long time.
My chest tightens, and my shoulders sag. Our friendship has been over for a long time. Instead of sulking and thinking about what I’ve lost, I continue working.
Not that what I’m doing is right. Between Oliver and Kelsey blowing me off—again—I can’t get the orders right.
I decide to get myself together by poking my head out of the kitchen. Waiting on tables is a good enough distraction. It’s like second nature to me. Pouring a glass of water at one table, taking empty plates from another, and by the time I get to some of the regulars to help the staff out, I feel a little more centered. I get into an easy rhythm, checking in with one of my recent hires to nudge her in the right direction.
Once I feel like everything is under control, and the front is a little less congested, I run back to the kitchen to check on the takeout orders. No one is keeping an eye on them. For a few minutes, I help pack some of them while giving a hand to the cook. I grab the bags that are ready and head toward the bar.
I bustle out of the kitchen, but before I even get to the bartender, I see him. Ollie is here. I want to go and say hello. But before I can do that, Bryan, one of my waiters, approaches me.
“Lori just quit,” he says casually but those three words feel like stabbing knives.
“What do you mean she just quit?” I draw a long breath. “She can’t do that. Can’t she wait until Sunday?”
I hold back a scream. Is she trying to kill me? Can’t she at least take me with her? Doesn’t she realize that if she can’t handle a section as small as the one I gave her, I sure as fuck can’t handle this restaurant all weekend without her? Fucking Lori, if I had a nickel for every time someone’s kid or grandkid bailed on me, I could afford to leave this place with a manager by now. I should know better than to listen to a regular’s personal reference.
They’re so reliable, they always say. Yeah, and that’s why they need a job, because they can’t keep one for too long.
“Everything okay?” Oliver’s low sweet voice cools me down just enough to control my anger.
“One of our girls just quit,” Bryan informs.
Oliver huffs, his nostrils flaring. He scans the front of the restaurant before looking back at me. “What’s her section?” he asks.
“She’s in charge of four,” I tell him. “The northeast corner.”
He walks away to the kitchen and comes back wearing an apron and starts filling orders. I stare at him for several seconds, dumbfounded. My heart does a couple of flips inside my chest. How could he do that? Pitching in like it’s no big deal and moving around like he owns the place. To be fair, he probably knows this restaurant as well I as do. But that doesn’t mean he needs to go charging in to save the day like some—
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his charming smile glinting as he greets his first table. His perfect lips framing his perfect teeth. They look plush and firm, and right for kissing. His t-shirt covers his muscular arms like a second skin, letting his exquisitely tattooed lines peek through. He looks like a regular—
... Knight in shining armor. I shake my head, snapping myself out of this strange daze. There’s something about Oliver that’s intoxicating, mesmerizing even. His presence is commanding yet comforting. He’s always had a way with taking charge that can be endearing at the best of times and exasperating at the worst. He’s so sweet and thoughtful and emotionally mature. Ugh! I can’t believe he’s for real.
I shiver, giving him one last glance. He seems to have everything covered. He’s even greeting some of the tables near his section, clearly picking up the slack for everyone else. I quietly walk back to the kitchen ambivalent, but glad to know I can go back to cooking in relative peace.
5
Oliver
When I worked at Blythe’s, Fridays and Saturdays were the best. The place was always busy, and the tourists were big tippers. I see that the crowd hasn’t diminished, but the service isn’t as great. Kaitlynn has only two waiters working for her. The kitchen is understaffed too. She’s trying to do everything at the same time. Even though she keeps a smile on her face, I can see the frustration in her eyes.
When my section is under control, I make the rounds, trying to keep the place running and helping her where I can.
“Thank you,” she whispers as we walk together to the kitchen. “Not sure what I’d have done tonight.”
“What happened?”
“As you saw, one person quit earlier, and Kelsey decided to go visit the aquarium and can’t make it back to work. I bet she’s going to ask
me for her pay when the month is over.”
“Pay?”
“She came to help me and earn a little extra,” she explains.
“Kelsey doesn’t work?”
“They both teach at a high school in NYC. He’s old money, they have savings to survive the summer, but when she needs extra she comes down here to work for me. Except, she doesn’t work as much as I need her to ... or at all really.”
“Order for ten is ready,” the cook says.
“That’s me,” she says. “Holler if you need me.”
Fucking Kelsey. She hasn’t changed. What did I see in her? She continues to only think about herself. Guess I dodged a bullet there.
When the next order comes up, I put it on my tray and head back out. For the next few hours, we work together to get the restaurant under control. Afterward, I help Kaitlynn with closing.
“You hungry? I can whip us up something,” she says once the floors are swept and the chairs are put away.
“I’ve been eating the food that I ordered during the few breaks I was able to take,” I reply while adjusting the tables.
“Well, I think we’re done for tonight.” She exhales loudly, crossing her arms. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” I offer.
“You don’t have to. The area is safe.”
“Still, let me follow you home so I can make sure you’re okay. Here, program your number into my phone.”
As I walk her to her car I ask, “Do you need help tomorrow?”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Hey, it’s me,” I remind her. “You’re not imposing.”
She looks at me cautiously. “If you don’t have a hot date or anything, I’d say yes, please.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow at lunch.” I kiss her cheek before closing her door for her.
I get in my car to follow her home. Eventually, she parks in front of the old Montgomery complex. She gets out of her car, waving at me before disappearing into one of the buildings. I continue to stare, long after she’s out of sight.
Cards of Love: Knight of Wands Page 3
