Page 39 of The Promise Of You

“You’re my new best friend. By the way, I’m—”

“Chloe.”

We both smile, big stupid grins, warmth spreading inside me. Day two, and I’ve already made three friends! “I should go. Big day ahead of me.” I pull out my wallet.

“On me,” she says. “Welcome to Emerald Creek.”

I fold a bill in the tip jar as she says, “Have an awesome day!” twists around and disappears in the back.

“Bye, Clover!” I swear the woman with blue hair says to me. I whip to look at her, but she pretends to be reading her book. I pause with my hand on the doorknob, my gaze fixed on her. She finally lifts her head and says, “Good luck today.”

That was… weird.

But I’m holding the best cup of coffee in the world. I have three new friends.

Life is good after all.

The restaurant is open when I get there, a radio blaring in the brightly lit kitchen, a man chopping vegetables. He looks like he could be the man I saw standing at the door when I drove by the day I arrived in town.

“Oh. You’re here,” I say. Life might be good, but it’s no thanks to him. As I get closer, the smell of cigarette emanating from him further confirms my suspicion.

He twirls his knife on the chopping board without really looking at it. “This is my kitchen. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Are all men assholes in this town? They should have a sign at the entrance. This is not what the Hallmark movies prepared me for.

I love Aunt Dawn, and she needs the money.

“Right, good point.” I extend my hand. “I’m Chloe Sullivan, I’m here to—”

“—Yeah, Brendan said you might show up.” He looks down at my extended hand, and after a beat, extends his elbow for me to shake.

Sure, why not. “So. What happened?”

He starts doing the chop-chop-chopping of vegetables. I sip my to-die-for coffee. “Say what?” he says after such a long time, I thought he was either ignoring me or didn’t hear my question.

“I came in yesterday, and the place was… dirty. What happened?”

He stops chopping, knife pointed at me. “That’s for you to figure out.”

Um? No. His kitchen, his responsibility. “It is. You’re right. That’s why I’m asking you. Since you must have been here the last evening the restaurant was open. That would have been… Saturday?”

“Saturday. Saturday. Yeah. Well, if the place was dirty, you could ask Shoshana. She’s front of house.”

“How about the kitchen?”

“What about it?”

Anger starts coiling somewhere deep inside me, but I manage to keep it in check. “It was dirty.”

He drops the knife with a loud clank on the metal surface. “Are you questioning my work?”

Well, yes. And your attitude. “Not at all. Look. I’m just asking for help here. The reputation of my uncle’s restaurant rests… ninety percent on your shoulders.” A little ego stroking never hurts assholes. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you. For the whole team. To keep going when there was no clear direction. When you didn’t know what the intentions of the owners were, if your jobs were secure—”

“Lady, I can find a job anywhere else. Tomorrow.”

“Chloe.”

“Huh?”

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