Page 27 of The Chef's Kiss
“Hey,” I called. A brilliant opener.I just chased you from a building while you cried, but hey, girl, hey.
She sent me a scathing look, wiping tears from her cheeks before returning her attention to her phone. She groaned.
“Are you okay?” I stepped closer.
“If by okay you mean forced to wait for the closest Uber, which is twenty minutes away, while standing outside my father’s office after failing in my one objective, really failing at life, and making a fool of myself, then sure. I’m peachy.”
“Whoa, that was a lot.” I wasn’t used to emotional dumping, at least not in this form. In my line of work, it usually meant screaming at one’s kitchen staff for things that weren’t their fault. And with Jordan … Well, let’s just say I wasn’t always sure she had emotions.
My response drew a laugh out of her that turned into a sniffle. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me I don’t fail at life or something? That’s what a nice person would say.”
“Never said I was a nice person.” It wasn’t false. But then, what was I even doing out here? “Besides, I don’t know you. For all I know, you could be a serial killer who never managed to kill anybody or a skydiver who forgot to pull their parachute. Both of those things would be failing at life; though, in the latter, you probably wouldn’t be here in front of me.”
She stared at me, not saying a word. Just stared. I wanted to know what was going on inside that scone-stealing head, why she looked so distraught. Wasn’t she an Ashford? She ran this town.
“I’m Hudson.”
“I know.” She raised one brow. “You’re also the jerk in three-thousand-dollar shoes.”
I looked down at my feet. “Not today. These didn’t cost a penny over twenty-five hundred.”
One corner of her mouth curved up. “Wow, someone has been thrifting.”
Like she thrifted. “You really want to start this battle?”
Her shoulders fell. “No. What I really want is for you to leave me alone.”
“Fair enough.” I didn’t move.
“I don’t see you going anywhere.”
“Never said I would.”
“Are you always this obnoxious?”
“Frequently. Most also call me moody, obstinate, stubborn, and oh yeah, the jerk in three-thousand-dollar shoes.”
She wiped a hand across her eyes, and a smear of mascara streaked over her thumb. “Just what I needed today. To be stuck here with the last person in this town I want to talk to.”
“I don’t think I like you.” I’d never been one to hold back, but something about her grated on me.
“Thanks for that.” She glanced down at her phone. “Come on, Uber, get me away from this douche nugget.”
“Come work for me.”
Her head jerked up. “Excuse me, what?”
“Lena said you need a job.”
She sighed, looking at the gray sky. “Why is everyone so focused on me?” Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face me. “Look, I’m sure you’re not as bad as you seem, Hudson, but there is no way on this green earth that I am going to work for you.”
“I pay well.”
She snorted. “Hmm, that would be enticing, except the answer will always be no.”
“Why?”
“Seriously?” She pushed a hand through her mass of curls, and they sprang back into place. “Well, for starters, you don’t like me.”
