Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
When I pulled into the parking lot, I was shocked to find that only three cars were there. Parking is usually a fucking nightmare in San Francisco and yet… huh.
When I got inside the restaurant, it was even worse.
So, my interview was in the early afternoon. Not a crazy busy time for restaurants. Some restaurants even closed during that time to switch over from lunch to dinner, if there was a big change in menu and restaurant setup depending on the meal. But usually there would be a few tables that still had people doing a late meeting or lunch, or who purposefully came later or earlier in their meal plan in order to beat the rush.
But here there was no one. Literally no one.
I saw two waiters lounging at the back by one of the side stations, chatting quietly, glancing at their phones as they polished silverware. I couldn’t blame them for relaxing. There was only so much sorting and buswork you could do in a restaurant—or in any job—before you just had nothing left.
Damn. I knew that things had been tough at the restaurant. Brooke had been telling me about it for ages. But I’d had no idea that it was this bad.
“Stevie?”
I turned and saw Brooke emerging from the back, waving. I grinned. “Hey, look at you, gorgeous!”
Brooke hugged me tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered. As if the waiters across the restaurant would be able to hear us. “We really need someone who’s got vision.”
“Yeah, I, um, fucking hell Brooke, is it always this empty? Or is this just a weird day?”
Brooke sighed, pulling back. “No. It’s like this all the time. Dinner customers have decreased by more than half. It’s just… awful. Sales are down every month.”
“Jesus fuck.”
“You can say that again.”
“Jesus fuck.”
Brooke glared at me and I winked at her. My foul mouth got me into a hell of a lot of trouble as a teenager, and Michael was the only one who let me say whatever I wanted. I always appreciated that about him.
Honestly that was why I had such a crush on him—and still did. He’d treated me like an adult.
Of course, never in the way that I had wanted and secretly dreamed about, but I’d been a teenager then so of course now. Now, I was an adult, and come hell or high water I was going to show him all the ways that I could work under him. Pun very much intended.
“We’ve been cycling through head chefs like nobody’s business for the past three years and nobody will stick. Now we’re not even getting any great people, we’re just getting the desperate. It’s so awful.”
Brooke looked incredibly upset and I realized, in a way that I hadn’t before, just how high the stakes were. I put my hand on her arm. “Brooke. Honey. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to make this work. You’ll see.”
She gave me a watery smile. “If anyone could do it, Stevie, it’d be you.”
She showed me into the back office, knocking on the door. “Dad! Your interview is here!”
As if he didn’t know that it was going to be me. I rolled my eyes fondly behind Brooke’s back. She really was such a doll.
The office door opened and… holy shit.
Michael looked as handsome as ever. More so, even, as though now with my own maturity I was able to better appreciate him in a way that my teenage self hadn’t been able to. Those eyes were just as piercing, his strong jaw, the hint of stubble, the slightly unbuttoned dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the broad chest, the height…
Fuck, I wanted him to pin me against the wall and ask if I’d been a good girl.
But aside from how good he looked, just how naturally handsome he was, he looked… tired. Worn down.
Michael used to always have this boundless energy. He was full of smiles, ideas, and a way to make me laugh when I was down. Now I felt as though our positions were reversed. I was the one who had to find a way to cheer him up, to get rid of that underlying weariness that I could sense from him.
Michael gave me a warm smile. “Stevie. It’s been ages.”
My heart beat rapidly as he ushered me into his office and closed the door behind us. I sat down in the chair across from him, feeling my heart beat continuing to pound in my ears. He was so close, and I wanted him, and I wanted this job, so badly.
“I looked over your resume,” Michael said, tapping the desk where I could see it sitting. “Congratulations on finishing culinary school, that’s no small feat.”
“Well you know me, sir,” I replied, looking up at him through my lashes on that last word, making it playful instead of too serious.