“No hard feelings,” Anton adds. “Besides, you gave me the fire I needed. Every kitchen needs a little heat,

oui?”

The evening rush is in full swing, and I’m feeling that exhilarating mix of adrenaline and contentment that

comes from seeing the restaurant function like a well-oiled machine. The clinking of silverware, the

murmur of customers, and the sizzle from the kitchen—it’s all music to my ears.

I’m busy updating the specials on our chalkboard when Daisy rushes over, her eyes as wide as saucers.

“Abby, there’s a guy here. Says he’s a journalist? He wants to talk to you.”

My gut clenches.”A journalist? Now? Why?”

Enter title…

just as confused as I feel. “I don’t know, but he’s asking some

I didn’t know what to

breath, I put down the chalk and head to the front of

is flipping through

a hand before I even have the chance to say

I’m with the Daily Dispatch. You’re

me. What can

around, his eyes taking in the interior of my restaurant, the pristine table settings,

the soft lighting. It feels like he’s trying to see

you’ve hired a

comment?”

tone is casual, but his eyes are predatory. Suddenly, all

“And he’s been an excellent addition to the team. He’s more

qualified for the job.”

his notebook, not breaking eye contact. “Interesting choice,

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