Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I don’t honestly know what Brooks wants from me, but it’s not sex.
Actually, he probably wishes I’d move away. But I’m not going to.
I’ve just come out of the walk-in refrigerator when I see a woman scowling at my staff.
“How many times do I have to tell you no dairy?” a woman yells at Tandy, whose eyes are huge, and I notice her hands are shaking.
“Hey, how can I help?” I ask as I walk over. My restaurant is set up for customers to place their orders at the counter, and when the food is ready, we deliver it to the tables. That way, they can customize anything they want, and if they want to watch us assemble their meal, they can do so. I know that many people with stomach sensitivities prefer to keep an eye on how their food is prepared.
“Are you the owner?” the customer demands as Tandy steps to the side, chewing her lower lip. I rest my hand on her shoulder and give her a nod before turning back to the customer.
“I am the owner, yes. Was something wrong with your meal?”
The woman narrows her eyes at me. She’s tall and willowy thin, with perfect nails and makeup and a designer handbag slung across her body. She’s beautiful.
And I can see that she’s about to be a bitch.
“This idiot who works for you doesn’t seem to understand what it means when I tell her no dairy. She’s made this same salad for me three times, and every time she brings it to me, it’s wrong.”
I frown down at her salad. “I don’t see any dairy there.”
She scoffs and shoves it forward, almost making it spill over the side and onto the floor. “Are you fucking kidding me? What do you call that?”
She points her red-tipped nail at the center of the lettuce. I look from the bowl to her and raise an eyebrow.
“I call that a hard-boiled egg.”
“Exactly.”
“I told her—” Tandy begins, but the bitch in front of me cuts her off.
“You told me what? That you didn’t do it wrong? Because you clearly did, you stupid little—”
“Stop.” The hard crack of my voice has her taking a step back. “Number one, you won’t abuse my staff. Not today or any other day. Number two, eggs are not dairy. They’re poultry.”
“You’re stupid if you truly believe that,” she says. “Why are they in the fucking dairy section of the store?”
“Because the store keeps them cold to make them last longer, but they’re not dairy. Google it. In the meantime, if you don’t like eggs, we won’t add them to your salad. But you won’t call my staff, or myself, stupid for knowing our jobs.”
“You’re wrong.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“You can go now.”
Her jaw drops. “I’m not leaving until you make me the salad the way I want it.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re done.”
“I would never be treated this way in LA.”
“Then go back to LA. Now, are you taking this with you or not?”
“Are you hearing impaired, you stupid redneck?”
I glance at Tandy, who’s staring in shock. “Call the police.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” The customer is screeching now, and everyone in the restaurant has stopped what they’re doing to watch us.
“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my building before I have you arrested for trespassing.”
Her lip curls in a sneer before she turns and stomps away, and once she’s gone, the place erupts in applause.
“You go with your badass self,” Billie says, a grab-and-go salad in her hand as she steps up to the counter. “What a bitch. I hope she doesn’t go over to the bookstore.”
I rub a shaky hand over my forehead. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I feel unsteady.
“I hate people,” Tandy says with a deep sigh. “Thanks for having my back, Jules. I knew that eggs aren’t dairy.”
“Everyone knows that.” Billie rolls her eyes. “I want a brownie, too. I’m eating this salad, which is delicious by the way, but I need something sweet to go with it.”
“You got it, Bug.” I wink at her and ring her up.
“Did you pick up the new book club read?” she asks me. “It’s War by Brittanée Nicole, and it’s so good.”
“I did pick it up, and I started it last night,” I reply with a grin. “Daddy War might be my new favorite hero.”
“He’s so hot,” Billie agrees. “Okay, gotta run back. See you later!”
After Billie leaves, we get swamped, and for the next several hours, the three of us bustle about, taking and filling orders, running them to tables, then cleaning tables between customers. It’s a chaotic evening, but eventually, it’s time to close. Once everything is cleaned and put away, Tandy and Hazel leave for the night.
I stay in the kitchen, making dough to bake in the morning. I mix up more brownie batter and decide to try the scone recipe that Jackie sent me.