Page 52 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Seven

Fine, then. She’d switch up her approach to something he’d better understand.

“Excuse me?”

He turned back at her sharp tone. “Yes?”

“I think we’ve had a tiny mishap of communication.” This time, her smile was sharp and sharklike. She raised her chin a few notches to emit a strong energy to match his. “We’ll need to hold the Fur Gala here at Vintage.”

“That’s impossible. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I can’t give up a Saturday of reservations at this point in the holiday season. It would financially harm Mac, and I’m sure that doesn’t bother you or anyone else, but he’s family and I’m looking out for his interest.”

A hot wave of anger rushed through her. She shook her head hard to clear it. “I’m sure you don’t realize as a newcomer, but Mac is both cared about and respected in this town. No one would ever take advantage of him. He’s always sponsored the gala and I’m sure he would be devastated to learn hisfamilydeliberately ruined a beloved charity event he believes in.”

Silence fell. Slowly, he refastened his gaze on her, but this time it held a flash of emotion that turned his eyes to a moody pale blue. Those full lips pursed as if he’d tasted something bad. “Are you a tattletale Ms. Pratt?”

Her jaw unhinged. Her voice grew a tiny bit shrill. “Excuse me?”

He waved his hand gracefully in the air. “Are you threatening to call Mac while he’s focusing on helping his sister so you can spin a story that makes me look like the bad guy?”

A growl rose low in her throat. “I met you only five minutes ago. Youarethe bad guy.”

A humorless smile touched his lips. “I intend to make some hard changes to help my cousin.”

“I see. Do you have any experience in owning a restaurant or is this your opportunity to learn from a quick internship at all of our expense?”

He jerked back. Satisfaction flowed in her veins. Oh, she did not like him. There was nothing worse in her estimation than a yummily attractive man with a crappy personality. “I’ve run the Bordeaux Café in Manhattan for the past five years. I know how to create a profitable menu, establish an atmosphere that draws customers, and manage a large staff that offers competitive wages. I think I’m quite capable of knowing what Vintage needs even if it’s about making difficult choices. Unfortunately, Mac leads with his heart.”

“You can run a successful business with both. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand that.”

One brow lifted. “Perhaps the floral business allows for such indulgence. I can assure you the restaurant business does not.”

And just like that, Devon lost her temper.

She took a few steps in and jabbed her finger in the air. “You wouldn’t know how to handle a day at my shop, restaurant boy. And cancelling on a charity two weeks before the event is bad business in whatever way you want to look at it. I refuse to let you ruin this town’s tradition because you want to line your pocket with a few extra bucks. I don’t care what I have to do.You will honor the agreement and hold the gala here or I will make you sorely regret it.”

The words shot and floated through the room like post-gunfire. A slight trembling shook her body from the depth of her emotions, and she dully noted it had been a long time since any individual—male or female—brought out her full ire. Devon braced herself for the fight of the century.

“Restaurant boy?”

The droll amusement only notched her temper higher. “I mean it. I will help you do this but you have a responsibility to keep your damn word.”

The man had the audacity to lean back in his chair with ease and regard her under lashes that were too thick for a male. “And if I don’t?”

Devon realized she’d make a bigger impression if she was like him.

Cold-hearted, methodical, and ruthless.

“I know people.”

Interest piqued in those storm cloud eyes. “Mob?”

“No. Legal people. Wouldn’t it be a shame to try and make productive changes and have to deal with customer complaints regarding the food? Or sanitary conditions?” She clucked her tongue. “Mac just got his liquor license. I bet you’d make a pretty penny selling your fancy Manhattan cocktails here. Wouldn’t it be a shame if something happened to that liquor license?”

“You really like dogs, don’t you?”

She narrowed her gaze and tried to figure him out. He was so damn…perplexing. Devon expected anger, or some other type of boorish behavior. Instead, he acted like he was royalty who refused to show weakness or emotion. Unfortunately, it only made her want to stir him up a bit to see where his limits were.

“Dogs are the bomb. They deserve a little happiness before being returned to their cages without a family for Christmas.”

And then something amazing happened.

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