Page 82 of A Perfect Match
"And neither do you," Griffin counters."A few weeks of sneaking around doesn't equal knowing someone."
“I didn’t meet him when he bought the building,” I blurt, my cheeks going hot.“I knew him from before.We met up in Cleveland once and connected.But then I ghosted him.”
“Oh.Great.So he’s your stalker now, too.”
I groan.“Griffin!You are impossible!I’m going back to the shop.Maybe someday we can all talk about this like adults, do you think?Can you possibly imagine a world where I know what I’m doing and can be trusted?”
Griffin just stares at me, saying nothing.
“Great.Well that sure makes me feel like a capable adult.”My throat is pinching and the tears are near.I can feel them coming.I stalk off to my bedroom, feeling a lot like the little girl who’s gotten in trouble yet again.
I angrily change clothes in my bedroom, putting on barn-appropriate clothes since I plan to spend as much time in there cleaning up as I can.While I’m washing my face to help myself cool down, I hear the front door slam shut.
A sigh escapes me, and I take a moment to let the afternoon-gone-awry sink into me.
I can’t believe it happened.And I can’t help but wonder if there’s some truth to what Griffin says.His warning feel like stones in my shoes.Uncomfortable, grating, but not painful enough to make me stop.
But there’s nothing left to do from here but move forward.
And pray that my brothers don’t all take turns punching Kru in the face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KRU
“Somehow, it looks worse than it did ten minutes ago.”
Brady’s grim assessment of my face makes me wince.I’ve stopped looking in the mirror.The black eye just reminds me of the piss-poor introduction I got to one of the Keegan Keepers, which is absolutely the hockey team Griffin should start playing for if his professional contract with the Cleveland Crushers ever ends.Because Piper wasn’t kidding – her brothers mean business, and I can’t believe there’s three more of them I have to get through.
“If anyone wants to meet the chef tonight, I’m gonna have to send you out, okay?”I say it like a joke, but I’m kind of serious.I don’t want anyone meeting me like this, thinking I’m some sort of back-alley street fighter.I don’t think the real reason—getting hazed by my girlfriend’s older brother—will sound like an acceptable excuse either.I’m just glad the camera crew is gone.This would have been too embarrassing to immortalize in a new season of reality TV.
“You want any ice yet?”Rafael asks.I’ve been too busy to use any, but I made sure to use an ice pack before I went to bed last night.Not that it helped.
“I’m fine,” I say, wiping down my station even though it’s already sparkling clean after the lunch rush.“Let’s just focus on pumping out dinner.”
Since it’s Sunday, Piper’s not open, but she’s out in the barn working.I’ve gone out there to check on her a couple times today, but each time she’s been mysteriously missing.She’s apologized no fewer than twenty times since yesterday’s unfortunate ambush—I mean, family introduction.
She doesn’t know that I’d happily let all her brothers rough me up.She’s worth it.But the aftermathdoessting a bit.
Work sweeps us up and away as usual.Today’s dinner service is brutal—quickly spiraling into three large parties and one particularly demanding table that sends back their lobster twice before finally accepting that it is, in fact, cooked perfectly.But one of my later tables sends a note with Jackie that his lobster and marshmallow dish was so delicious he needs to speak with me urgently.He sent his business card, which lists his company as Midwestern Restaurant Group.
Overall it’s a lucrative evening—one on top of many before it.My business model is working.And the marshmallow touch to the dish has helped me slide into first place in the Bayshore Best competition—and probably helped keep the dining room full tonight.I’m not sure how long I’ll retain it, but I’ve got my staff reminding our customers at every turn to go vote for us in the competition, so maybe we’ve got a shot.
As my crew and I work through the closing checklist, exhaustion sets in.These long days are getting to me.All I want is to go home, ice my face, and call Piper to see how she's handling the fallout with Griffin.
When I finally lock up and step into the cool October night, my breath is visible in small puffs.The parking lot is entirely empty except for my truck.That's when I notice the light spilling out of the barn on the far end of the lot.
I walk across the lot, my footsteps echoing in the quiet.As I get closer, I can hear music—some sort of upbeat pop song.It's nearly eleven.It can’t still be Piper in there…can it?
I already know the answer before I slide open the barn door.
Piper is perched on a ladder in the middle of the space, a paint roller in her hand, working on one of the massive support beams.She's set up some industrial lighting, illuminating the entire barn in harsh white light.Paint cans, brushes, and drop cloths are scattered across the floor.She's wearing paint-splattered overalls over a Cloud Nine hoodie, her hair pulled back in a messy bun with what appears to be white paint streaks in it.
She's also swaying slightly on the ladder, which makes my heart skip a beat.
"Piper?What the hell are you doing?"
She startles, nearly dropping the paint roller."Kru!You scared me!"
