Page 53 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Seven

He laughed.

Sure, it was a chuckle, and not a full-blown chest laugh, but the sound ruffled her nerve endings and made her want to remember it so she could replay the scene later in her head. “Okay, flower girl. I’ll give you what you want because I have limited time to deal with your threats but I have no time to structure this event. I’ll serve local beer and wine. I’ll offer up a limited menu based on my choices. That’s it. You do everything else and there will be no interference with the lunch crowd. The event begins at six pm, and I serve till 4pm. That means, no early drop-offs or distractions for my staff.”

She opened her mouth to say something but he kept going.

“And if I need anything, I plan to call you and only you. The moment you don’t respond, I’m calling the whole thing off, and you can blame the dogs’ broken hearts on your inability to follow through. Understood?”

“Flower girl?”

He grinned and her stomach did another weird flip. Something about those lips distracted her. “Tit for tat. Now, I need to get back to work.”

This time, he turned around and began tapping at his keyboard.

She’d already been dismissed.

Head spinning, unable to come up with a proper retaliation, Devon left, wondering if she’d won the battle only to have lost the war.

Because dealing with that man for the next two weeks was going to be hell on Earth.

Chapter Three

Devon Pratt was a pain in the ass.

He stared at her as she filled up his inventory closet with decorations for the gala. The past few days he’d begun to regret his threat. He figured she wouldn’t bother him until the week of the gala, but instead she’d taken his words to heart. The next day, she showed up to meet with the staff who volunteered to work the event to discuss set-up arrangements. Seems she wanted to tear apart the restaurant to allow plenty of room to display the dogs. Then it was demands for a finalized menu so she could create fancy place cards and deal with any allergy issues. She spoke of a doggy bar filled with toys and treats, which caused him a prickle of alarm. When he mentioned it, she announced with cold disdain it had been in the original plans agreed to with Mac.

Now, she was cluttering up his organized pantry with lights, mini trees, and endless sparkly things that dripped with holiday cheer.

The real problem?

His reaction to the woman’s physical presence.

She…disturbed him.

Jameson studied her shapely form as she bent over, biting her lip and mumbling to herself. Her hip length, dark hair spilled down her back, stopping just above her denim clad rear. She reminded him of a forest sprite, with her large green-brown eyes, narrow face, and shiny straight hair. There was both a quiet stillness within her and a passionate animation that fascinated him. It seemed like one moment, she was studying him with intensity without speaking, and then her body sprung to life while she blasted him with a speech that edged his nerves.

Not to mention her voice. The sound evoked both music and smoke; lilting and husky until he wanted to take a step closer to hear more of it. Her laugh was just as sensual. Not that she’d laughed with him, but he’d overheard her with his staff, who all seemed to like her much better than him.

Trisha, one of the waitresses, interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Franklin, I wanted to ask if I can have this Friday off. I’m working the morning shift but my mom called and she needs me to come home for the weekend.”

He tamped down a flare of impatience. He’d just finished a meeting regarding shift changes and days off and was clear about his expectations. “I’m sorry, Trisha, but the schedule is done. You need to be here.”

Her fawn-colored eyes widened with distress. “But Mr. Franklin, she’s ill and needs help. My sister can’t get there and she can’t be alone.”

Jameson shook his head. “I can’t spare you. I’m sure there’s someone who can be with her until your shift ends. We’re missing Sheyann this week so there’s no one to cover you.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I know it’s last minute but it’s an emergency and I don’t want to lose my job, but I have to see my mom. It’s only breakfast—I’m sure Layla can handle it.”

“One server cannot handle the entire restaurant.”

“She needs to see her mother.”

The blast of silk and sand echoed in his ears. Jameson turned to see Devon march over to stand beside Trisha. Outrage at her interrupting his conversation made him lose his words for a few seconds. “Excuse me?”

“Trisha’s mom has an autoimmune disease and has been struggling this week. It’s a family emergency. I’m sure something can be done to give her a morning shift off. What if Trisha was sick and couldn’t come in? You’d manage, right?”

He clenched his jaw as Trisha leaned against Devon in gratitude. How’d he get to be the bad guy from trying to keep a restaurant running smoothly? “This isn’t a sick day,” he grated out. “If her mom needed help, I should have been informed by Monday so I could make proper arrangements. I have no one to cover the shift.”

“What if you find someone to work?”

---