Page 1 of Enemy Kisses

CHAPTER1

–harriet–

Harry’s House of Crêpesand Croissantshas been open for one month today—yay! Go me!

My parents didn’t believe I could follow my dream of opening a café, let alone keep one open.

What would they know, anyway?

They were barely around when I was growing up—too busy traveling with Dad’s job to raise me—leaving Grand-Mère to do it. She always knew me best and passed on her love of French baking, which she learned from her mother back in France when she was a girl. She also dreamed of opening a café, which inspired me. She taught me everything I know, so I’m bound and determined to prove them wrong and make Grand-Mère proud.

Just thinking about showing them what I’m capable of lights a fire inside me as I make the short bicycle ride from my apartment to my favorite place to be as the barest sliver of orange fights to take over the midnight sky. Besides, I have to make this work because I’ve used my entire inheritance from Grand-Mère as well as all of my savings to do it. I glance upward and whisper, “Love you, Grand-Mère Mae.”

I pedal into the lot behind my café and lock my bike to the fence.Ugh!A sour stench infiltrates my nose before I even see the state of the area outside the back door to my brand-new café.

Almost every freaking day, this is what greets me. What’s worse is, before I realized what it was, I stepped in the disgusting mess. At least I haven’t done that for a few weeks now. But I’m tired of starting my day like this. It’s ruining my dream. In all of my imaginings, I never imagined having to step over vomit to enter my building daily. Not only that, but the trash, which is left strewn halfway down the sidewalk and behind my café because of late-night drunken antics, is shameful. And let’s not forget to mention the smell of urine along the side of my building and at the front door. All of these misfortunes are directly caused by that damn pub next door. With a huff, I toss the evil eye over my shoulder at the building—like the building itself is to blame for what’s happening—glaring at the painted sign that says,Brady’s Pub. It’s like the owner doesn’t give a shit about any other businesses around them.

I’ve had enough. I’m going to give the owner a piece of my mind. Every time I’ve gone over there to have a civil conversation with the owner, he’s not available or hasn’t yet arrived for work. I guess he starts late because the bar is open late, whereas I need to be here early to prep for the day. Our schedules couldn’t be more opposite, but I’ve decided to send him an email with photographic evidence of his patrons’ misdeeds. I have his email address sitting on my phone, ready to go, and I’ve had plenty of time to draft what I’m going to say in my head.

Using my phone, I snap a quick photo of today’s mess to add to my evidence folder. The pictures should get the message across loud and clear. He won’t be able to dispute it.

I unlock the door, careful to step over the foul mess using the light on my phone. Once I’m inside, I flick the switch for the kitchen light, which also illuminates a small area of the back stoop, grab the kitty litter—an added expense I never thought I’d have—and sprinkle a generous amount over the vomit, gagging while I work. People are gross. I leave the litter to do its job, spend half an hour collecting trash—all the while cursing under my breath as I stomp my way around the area out the back—wash my hands thoroughly, turn on the ovens, then grab everything I need to start today’s prep.

I flick my eyes up to the clock. Damn it, I’m running late now. I’m going to need to catch up on lost time somehow. Perhaps I should start coming in earlier to account for the time I need to clean up—ugh.

“Not again.” Quentin’s gruff voice breaks the silence as he steps inside.

“Yep.Again.It’s pretty bad today. I’m guessing it’s worse because of the holiday yesterday. And you should have seen all the trash. I haven’t been out front yet, but I’m sure it’s just as bad.”

“Something needs to be done. It’s fucking unsanitary.”

“I know. I plan to write an email today and attach the photos I’ve taken. I’ve had enough.”

Quentin grunts, then grabs the broom, sweeping the mess at the back door and disposing of it for me. Then he grabs the disinfectant and scrubs it clean. Such an angel.

“You know what today is?” Quentin studies me closely, then shakes his head. “It’s our one-month anniversary. We’ve been open for one entire month!” I sing.

His lips twitch as he rolls his eyes at me. He thinks he has everyone fooled with his grumpy demeanor, but I know the real person beneath the gruff exterior. He’s a soft teddy bear at heart, which comes out in the delicate croissants he makes. The guy has muscles and is covered in tattoos, but you should see him lovingly folding and rolling the delicious, buttery pastries he makes. His creations are to die for—literally.

I remember when I first interviewed him for the position. I was skeptical until he pulled out a box with a variety of croissants he’d prepared for the interview. The buttery texture and crisp, flaky pastry sold me, and I offered him the position on the spot. Another wonderful thing about Quentin is that he comes with Judy, his sweet wife. They were a godsend throughout the renovations, happily volunteering to help with painting and decorating in their free time. I lucked out with them.

I get to work measuring and mixing the batter I’ll need to make crêpes throughout the day. I ensure all of my sweet and savory toppings are prepared and transfer the ingredients to the refrigerator out front for easy access.

Judy breezes in from the kitchen, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her. “Morning!”

“Oh my gosh, is it that time already?”

She chuckles. “Yep. I’ll get the tables set up outside.” The click of the front door lock sounds as I head back through to the kitchen. Quentin’s busy decorating the almond croissants with almond flakes, so I pull out the fillings for our plain croissants, ready to make a handful of each type for our display cabinet out front.

“Cheese and crackers. Have you seen the mess out front?” Judy huffs as she makes her way toward the supply cupboard.

“Nope. Too busy, but if it’s anything like it was out back this morning, it’ll be pretty bad.”

“It’s probably the worst I’ve seen since we opened.”

“I’m emailing the owner this afternoon since I’m never able to catch him.”

“Good.” Judy stomps her way back through the front of the shop to clean up our outdoor area. We set up a few tables and chairs out front so customers can enjoy their treats beneath the cute white and yellow striped awnings I had installed as part of the renovations, but we have to bring them inside when we close. We learned our lesson the hard way. We made the mistake of leaving them outside on the first day we opened and we found them strewn all over the street the next morning.

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