“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…

confused as I feel. “I don’t know, but

know what to

put down the chalk and head to the front of the restaurant, where a man with a

is flipping through a

even

Kohler. I’m with the Daily Dispatch.

me. What can I

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

he’s trying to see through the walls, and I’m

word has gotten out that you’ve hired a homeless person

comment?”

his eyes are predatory.

he’s been an excellent addition to the team.

qualified for the job.”

something in his notebook, not breaking

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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