Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“Don’t be an idiot,” he replied.
Alex rubbed the back of his neck but didn’t respond. His shoulders dropped. It was as if seeing that guy deflate his anger balloon.
The guy frowned, walked over to Alex, and hugged him. Alex didn’t hug him back. His arms stayed to his sides, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. He held on so tight as if he feared letting go. Then he said, “Whiskey?”
Alex shook out of his hold and raked a hand through his messy black hair. “I’ll get the glasses set up.”
“And clean yourself up a bit, will you?” the stranger ordered. “You’re filthy.”
Alex grumbled. He turned toward me, and all that was left was the sadness in his eyes. He didn’t say anything more, though. He simply walked inside, leaving me standing there with the stranger in front of me and the dog dish in my hand.
“Seems you two were in a heated conversation,” he told me.
“I was just trying to welcome him to town with a water bowl for the dogs in the community.” He smiled. The opposite of something Alex would do. I tilted my head toward him as I narrowed my eyes. “I know you.”
He held a hand out toward me. “Noah Colton. Nice to meet you.”
My jaw dropped. “Noah Colton, the celebrity chef on the show Bite Sized?”
He smirked and shrugged. “The one and only.”
“Oh my gosh, I love your show. I’m such a fan. You’re friends with this guy? But you seem so nice and he seems so, so, so—”
“Grumpy?”
“And rude! And nasty! And hotheaded.”
Noah laughed. “That’s my best friend for you.”
“Best friends? I’m shocked he has any friends with his attitude.”
Noah glanced toward the restaurant at Alex, who was aggressively removing a bottle of whiskey from the bar’s shelf. Noah slid his hands into his pockets. “He can be a bit rough around the edges.”
“To say the least.”
His smile remained, but it fell slightly. “He’s had a hard few months. On top of that, today’s the funeral for someone very important to him.”
“Oh my goodness.” My hands flew to my chest. “I had no idea.”
“Of course, you didn’t. How could you have known? Alex isn’t much of an open book. Honestly, I’m pretty sure he superglued his pages shut.” Noah sighed and scratched at his beard. “I know he’s kind of a dick. It’s part of his charm in the industry, oddly enough. The bigger the dick, the better the chef, but he’s also a good guy. Normally, he just keeps to himself, but he’s been having a tough go at it this past week. He’s just in a chapter of his life where he’s a bit lost.”
“That explains why he’s in Honey Creek. He must’ve taken a wrong turn.”
Noah laughed. “Oddly enough, I think this is exactly where he needs to be. You should leave the water dish. It will grow on him.”
Before I could reply, the door to the restaurant flew open. “Are you coming in or will you be a pain in my ass and stand outside all day?” Alex growled toward Noah.
His bad attitude didn’t faze Noah in the slightest.
“What was your name again?” Noah asked me.
“Yara.”
“It was nice to meet you, Yara,” he said.
“He’s lying,” Alex remarked coldly. “He always lies,” he grumbled as he waved Noah toward the restaurant entrance.
“You’ve seen my show, Yara. You know I cannot tell a lie, even if I wanted to. Have a good day.”
“You too, Noah.”
My stare found Alex’s again, and I felt I should’ve spoken. As if I should’ve given him my condolences or as if I should’ve hugged him. There was no reason I should’ve felt like that, but I did.
CHAPTER 11
Alex
“Nice girl,” Noah said as he walked into the restaurant.
I rolled my eyes as I moved toward the bar and poured two shots of whiskey. “She’d be thrilled to know you said that. Nice is her favorite thing to be.”
“I would call you out for being grumpy toward her, but with the circumstances…” He took a seat at the bar and I sat beside him.
“You didn’t have to come out here. I’m fine.”
Noah glanced toward the destroyed kitchen and arched an eyebrow. “Clearly,” he sarcastically remarked.
“What do you want me to do, huh? You want me to be sad? You want me to cry? You want me to be overly emotional about Teresa’s funeral today?”
“Well…yeah. That would be warranted.”
“Too bad. I’m going to clean up this mess and get on with the restaurant opening next week. I don’t have time to sit and simmer. Besides, Teresa lived a good life. I’m not going to cry about it.”
“Just because she lived a good life doesn’t make her passing easier.”
“Yes, actually, it does.” I downed my shot and poured another round. “So you either can help me clean this place up or—”