Page 6 of Hearty

I’ll just grab my breakfast and?—

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

The voice behind me is deep, deeper than I remember, and I give a little start at the sound of it.

Turning slowly because I feel like a deer caught in headlights, I’m met with the full intensity of Evan Ashton’s blue gaze.

“Uh, hey … Evan.” My words come out stilted and awkward, and I immediately want to smack myself for being so embarrassing.

So much for being that cool, confident woman who no longer fidgeted and flubbed in front of her teenage crush.

The right side of his mouth quirks up like he’s trying not to laugh at my weirdness, and God, it makes my insides do cartwheels. This man has the bravado of a giant, but it’s encased in this “who gives a fuck” tattooed, arrogant chef’s body.

“August Percy, long time no see.” Now, he gives me a full-blown smile, and my knees threaten to go weak.

My lord, this man is beautiful. Also, I had no clue he knew my last name.

“Same.” The monosyllabic answer comes out stifled, and again, I want to fall into a hole in the floor. I try to recover, pointing to the coffee pot. “I’m just here for a short trip, thought I’d grab some breakfast, so …”

Evan quirks a dark eyebrow at me, as if I’m amusing him, and I turn so he can’t see my flaming red cheeks as I heap food onto a plate and then shakily pour myself a mug of steaming hot coffee.

“I’ll just get out of your hair.” I’d rather eat this in my car than make more of a fool of myself.

“Never said you were in it.” He smirks again. “Then again, I wouldn’t mind if you tangled yourself in there for a bit.”

I might faint. What is it about the guy who always ignored you, finally giving you the time of day that makes us women lose all the self-respect in our bodies? It’s like I was chasing after something for so long that now that it’s happened, it’s almost surreal.

“Okay, well …” I stutter one more time, then turn on my heel and push out the door before I can utter one more stupid thing.

I end up stuffing my face with the food and coffee while standing at the empty takeout counter, not yet open for the day, and then race out of Hope Pizza like my teenage nightmares are on my heels.

So much for not attracting attention on my trip back to town. I managed to agree to a rental and stick my foot in my mouth all in the span of an hour.

4

EVAN

Long blond hair whips past the kitchen and down the back hallway, and I track the movement until I hear the rear exit door slam with August’s departure.

A smile ghosts my lips as I remember the red blush on her cheeks, how those hazel, almost caramel, eyes went wide, and how she tripped over her words.

Call it being caught off guard or discombobulated with just getting back into town, but I found it absolutely adorable and amusing that August Percy couldn’t quite get her bearings as she tried to sneak around my kitchen. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been this gangly teenager. The woman who scooped up her breakfast and bolted? Yeah, she looked like she’d be formidable when she wasn’t trying to avoid talking to me.

Shamelessly flirting with August has been the highlight of my morning. My siblings would probably, no, definitely, admonish me for that, but it’s not like I care enough not to do it again. Plus, I’m the baby of the family, so I get away with murder.

Then again, the last time August had been in the picture, my parents, brothers, and sister acted like they’d throw themselves in front of a train for her while I was treated like chopped liver. The memory stings, the jealousy I felt toward August rearing its ugly little head.

Back when she worked at Hope Pizza, she’d been around longer in a professional capacity than I had when I decided to give up the five-star dining life and return to my hometown. By the time I started working full time in this kitchen, August had already cemented herself as a part of the restaurant family. She knew how to run the POS system better than I could, knew a lot of our regular customer’s orders by heart, or which sections they liked to be seated in. She knew that Alana needed a diet Coke around four thirty to avoid getting cranky and that my dad always liked certain pots or pans cleaned in a certain way before he cooked certain meats. It irked me that they all turned to her for solutions rather than me, their own blood. That was petty as hell, but it truly had been how I felt.

Seeing her now? It only stirs up thoughts that I certainly should not tell my family about, no matter what I heard Mom and Dad doing this morning.

“Kitchen looks good. You’ve actually been keeping up with the cleaning.” My sister’s voice hits my ears, and I turn around, stunned. Considering Alana just had my latest nephew, I didn’t expect to see her back at work for months. But leave it to my badass sister to not take anything lying down. A baby strapped to her chest in a carrier, a to-go cup of coffee in her hand, and here she is to make sure someone gives me shit.

“What’re you doing here? Should you even be walking?” I pull a stool out from under one of the counters and try to assist my sister onto it.

She just gave birth days ago and is probably in no shape to even be out of the house, but then, what the hell do I know about childbirth and motherhood?

Alana waves me off. “Are you kidding? I have a toddler, I was basically up and moving from the moment I got home. And this one either wants to full contact nap or be on the boob, so it’s not like I’m getting much rest at home.”

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