The Enemy (It Happened in Charleston #2) - Sarah Adams Page 0,22
in them. She takes off her shoe and chucks it at my head. I have plenty of time to duck away from it, though, which only makes the smoke billowing out of her ears increase. “You liar!” June charges toward me, and if she wasn’t the size of a toddler, I’d be a little more concerned.
She crosses the room in a flash and rears back her hand to slap me, but I catch her by the wrist with a loose grip. I hold it level with my chest and step closer. Her elbow brushes against my stomach, and I like having her this close to me.
June’s eyes blaze brighter, and her fist opens up just enough to point her index finger. “You lied to me.”
I won’t deny it. I’m a criminal in court pleading guilty because I want a shorter sentence.
“I lied, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” My truth must shock her, because I see June’s shoulders drop. My grip on her wrist is featherlight, giving her all the chances in the world to move away, but she doesn’t even try.
June is looking at me now like she just discovered Bigfoot. Her eyes are wide, and she looks as if she can’t believe I apologized. I can’t decide if this is because she still expects me to act like the boy I used to be, or if it’s because of the piece I’m missing to her puzzle.
Regardless, my intentions are changing from here on out. I plan to show June just how different I am from the teenager she remembers me as.
I really shouldn’t be this concerned about winning June over, though. I should be giving all my attention to considering Noah’s restaurant and whether I want to be a part of it. But I’m not. I can’t bring myself to give it even a second of my thoughts.
Last night, I fell asleep thinking of ways to make June smile. I just want one aimed at me. Just one and I’ll be happy. I’ve never been on the receiving end of one of her smiles, but I’m determined to get one by the end of this week.
It’s not that I’m head-over-heels in love with the woman already, but I feel a pull to her. A need to spend time with her. Be close to her. I can’t shake it.
I look in June’s eyes and see a million emotions flying through them. She’s a human slot machine right now, and her eyes are rotating emoji icons. Daggers, hearts, crying face, smile, purple devil.
She blinks her long dark lashes and rips her hand away before walking toward Stacy who is watching us with wide eyes. “Just leave me alone from now on, Ryan. Or better yet…eat glass,” says June.
Sorry, June Bug. Neither one of those things is going to happen.
“What did I miss?” Stacy asks and then shakes her head and waves her hand. “No, you know what? I don’t want to know, because my whole life is falling apart. My caterer and most of her staff for the rehearsal dinner just came down with the flu! There’s no way they’ll be over it by Friday night.”
I pick my baseball hat up off my head and scrape my hand through my hair before replacing it. That’s my way of preparing to say no to what I’m sure Stacy is about to ask me.
“What! No way,” says June. “Is there anyone else we can hire?”
Stacy shakes her head no, but I doubt she’s even tried to hire anyone else. “Not in this short of notice. Everyone else I’ve reached out to is booked solid.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who else have you tried?”
She shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t meet my eye. “Just some locals. Doesn’t matter. You’ve never heard of them.” Beep. Beep. Beep. My lie detector is going off. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter because I know who I want to have cater it.”
I shut my eyes tight, bracing for impact.
“Please, Ryan. Please, please, please. You’re pretty much the best chef in the country! It will be such a treat for everyone if you make the food.”
I don’t bother hiding my groan. “It’s so last minute. I don’t even have a kitchen.”
Stacy is tugging on my arm now. “Oh, come on. There’s only going to be about fifty people there. A chef as good as you doesn’t need much time to prep, right? And you can use my kitchen. Or June’s!” She’s just trying to butter me up.