Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
I’m a scientist. I like logic and order. I used to be a starry-eyed romantic, but Bash broke me of that. I made a fool of myself to him and his rejection gutted me.
I promised myself I’d never feel that way again. I’d never fall so hard for someone that they had that kind of power over me. But maybe I went too far to the other end of the spectrum with Shane.
I once heard him tell his friends over his video game headset that he had time for another round of their game because I “probably had the shits.” He laughed. My cheeks blazed with humiliation. He probably thought I couldn’t hear him, but I was in his bedroom getting out the lingerie I’d packed for my first overnight stay at his house.
His thoughtless comment made me pack my bag up and tell him I wasn’t feeling well, and that’s when I decided we’d never spend an entire night together. He shrugged and waved at me over his shoulder, still playing his game.
It bothers me that he never fights for me. If we see each other, it’s fine, and if we don’t, that’s fine, too. If we have an argument, he leaves, and he doesn’t want to finish it later.
Bash drives me crazy with his nonstop criticism of Shane, but he’s stubborn as fuck and I don’t think he’ll ever give up. He’s a fighter.
I have to freeze him out because if I don’t, I’m going to fall for him again. Seventeen-year-old-me would never forgive me if that happened.
“Welcome to Harvest Moon,” the greeter at Harry’s restaurant says with a warm smile. “Can I get the name for your reservation?”
“I’m actually here to see Harry.”
“Oh! Let me go grab him.”
She’s beautiful, her light-brown skin glowy and her thick, tightly-coiled curls bouncy. Her perfectly pressed bright-white dress shirt matches her teeth.
Harry asked me to come by to check out his restaurant before trivia night. I knew it would be incredible, but it’s even more than I was expecting. The tables and floors are dark wood, the walls textured to look like soft brown saw grass. Candles in glass globes glow on every table and minimalist scones and chandeliers provide a warm glow, but the overall vibe is dark and cozy.
“Lainey.” Harry opens his arms as he approaches me. “I’m so glad you could come by.”
He’s wearing khakis and a light-blue polo, his short, dark-blond hair styled perfectly. Harry always looks put together and polished.
But me? I’m wearing jeans, Converse, and a well-worn black T-shirt that says, “Science doesn’t care about your opinion.” I changed out of my work clothes because dress shoes with pointy toes are bullshit.
“I’m finishing up a meeting in the kitchen,” Harry says as he leads me to a table for two. “Give me one minute and I’ll be back.”
“Sure, take your time.”
He wasn’t kidding— he’s back in less than two minutes, two glasses of something cloudy and light pink in hand.
“Hibiscus lemonade,” he says. “I remember you saying you love lemonade, and this stuff is phenomenal.”
I take a sip, then immediately have another. “That’s amazing. It’s sweet and tart at the same time. There’s like a cranberry flavor.”
“I’m obsessed. I drink about a half gallon a day.”
It’s around four thirty p.m., and busy staffers are coming in and out of the double doors that lead to the kitchen. One bartender is polishing the gleaming bar surface and another is lining up clean glass tumblers.
“Is this the prep time before it gets crazy?” I ask.
“Pretty much, but it’s nothing like Fridays and Saturdays. We seat people starting at four forty-five and we have a full house tonight.”
The scent of seasoned, grilled meat makes my stomach growl. I’m surprised when a server approaches our table and sets down a plate of dumplings, pinched perfectly and drizzled with a dark sauce.
“I’m having the kitchen bring us some snacks,” Harry says.
“Wow.” I look up at the server. “Thanks, this looks amazing.”
She grins. “Enjoy. Anything else right now, boss man?”
“I think we’re good.” Harry picks up a small plate and passes it to me. “Dig in.”
“This place is...” I shake my head. “I’m blown away, Harry. Seriously. You look like you’re still in your twenties, and I could try my whole life to create someplace like this and never even come close.”
“That’s very kind, thank you. I’m thirty-two. And I don’t remember if I told you I actually sold this place last year. Part of the deal was that I stay on as executive chef for two years.”
I serve myself a dumpling, steam rising from it as I cut into it. “So what’s your plan after that? Or have you even decided?”
“I’m opening another restaurant. The two years were to help transition, but also for noncompete reasons. I think my next one will be an Asian sushi, ramen, wood-fired pizza mashup.”