Page 9 of The Problem with Dating

Chief Cole seemed to be the opposite of that belief. He kept telling me crap I didn’t care about. “My family owns this town. Before my grandfather passed away, he signed the theater away to some old lady.”

“Teresa,” I said, tensing up from him calling her an old lady. She was so much more than her age. She was vibrant and lively, the kindest, gentlest person I’d ever known. I didn’t find the need to tell the ass that, though. Again, I didn’t overshare.

“Yeah, her. My family was pretty pissed about it, but we didn’t get much say. Grandpa didn’t ask for people’s input. He did whatever he wanted when he wanted.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “We probably would’ve thrown more of a fit if we knew the old broad was gonna sell it to some guy to transform it into an upscale restaurant.”

My hands remained in fists as my pie remained against my skin. “Don’t call her an old broad,” I said through gritted teeth.

He arched an eyebrow. “You knew her personally?”

“She’s my family.”

“Oh.” He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Clearly, he had more to say, but he took a step back instead. “You have a good day, Mr.…”

“Ramírez. Alex Ramírez.”

“Alex. Welcome to Honey Creek. Don’t worry if your little restaurant fails. Some small towns aren’t meant for big-city visions. You can just pack up your knives and return to where you came from,” he said before wandering off.

I flipped him off, too, my new favorite salute to everyone who crossed my path.

I hated this town.

If I had enough nerve, I would’ve hated Teresa for putting me in that town. When I promised I’d build her a restaurant wherever she wished, I didn’t think she’d pick this hellhole.

Welcome to Honey Creek, Illinois, the bane of my existence.

I’d never had a whole town hate me until I made my way to Honey Creek. A bunch of people who didn’t know me made it their mission to send their hatred and rude remarks my way. Apple pies included.

I didn’t care how the townspeople acted toward me. I knew I was out of place in Honey Creek and thrived on that. The last thing I wanted to do was be like the people of that forsaken place.

Still, there I was, building a part of my empire on their soil.

The things we do for love.

Getting the restaurant up and running took much longer than I’d hoped, but we’d officially be open within a few weeks. Finding staff for the restaurant was a bigger pain, seeing as most of the townspeople were anti my existence in their small town. Plus, I was almost certain the necessary paperwork and permits sat untouched simply because they didn’t want me to build in their town.

That didn’t matter much to me because the town didn’t matter. I went as far as to hire a staff of professionals from the outskirts of Honey Creek. Finding people to work for you wasn't too hard when one had a Michelin star or two. Plus, I paid my employees well with exceptional benefits.

The only person I hired from Honey Creek was Tatiana Silva—a woman with a personality louder than a playground packed with kindergarteners.

“Do I call you chef or Alex?” she asked as she walked into the restaurant after I finished cleaning up the pie mess outside.

“I’ll answer to both,” I told her, guiding her to a table to start the interview process.

“I’ll interchange them, then. Keep a mystery to it all.” She took her seat. Tatiana wore vibrant colors of neon pinks and yellows. She was in her sixties, and her spirited outfit seemed dull compared to her animated personality.

Tatiana walked in with a confidence I’d never witnessed before. When she arrived to interview for the front-of-house manager, she already claimed she’d earned the position.

I was a bit speechless.

“I’m the best thing that can happen to your restaurant,” Tatiana told me as she sat across from me. “I’m the best of both worlds.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I grew up in Honey Creek. I know this town and its people. I have all the connections you might need here. Looking around the space, I can tell you need a few.”

I wanted to take offense, but she didn’t allow me to interrupt.

Tatiana was a hand talker. Each word that left her mouth came with a wave of her hands, making her seem bigger than her small frame did. Teresa talked the same way.

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