Perfect Match Enemies to lovers romance - Leia Stone Page 0,13
and the long ten-inch scar there.
Grief slammed into me, hitting me right in the gut, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying.
“Are you gonna stand there and stare or are you gonna help?”
I shook myself from my stupor and walked to the back of the kitchen.
Geeze! It was hot and muggy back here.
“Isn’t there a fan?” I pulled at my shirt, which was already stuck to my body. Why didn’t I pack cotton?
He pointed to the ceiling and I looked up to see an old fan with a bunch of wires sticking out. “That’s broken too.”
“Seems like the owner should make some repairs.” I placed one hand on my hip.
His lips twitched, like he wanted to smile, but instead he handed me a crusted old pan. “Can’t afford it. You’re gonna have to figure it out with this. I got a special … event tonight. It’s important that there’s decent food.”
“You want me to cook decent food in this place? It isn’t even up to code!” There was probably a rat hiding in wait to get scraps. I saw a large freezer but no refrigerator, which meant nothing was fresh and everything was frozen. One glance at the giant ketchup tub and I could see it was out of date.
Julie was right. This was way fucking beneath me.
The only saving grace was the beautiful, brand new BlueStar eight-burner range with a griddle and double oven. It was a Cadillac in a scrap lot, painted in a gorgeous cherry red.
He noticed me eyeing the bright red range.
“I’m sure you can do something with that.”
Then he turned tail and left me in the swamp-ass, rat-infested kitchen.
This would probably be a great time to call my therapist and do a check in. I could feel myself slowly spiraling out of control. This wasn’t me. What the hell was I thinking subjecting myself to a nasty kitchen fry cook job, verbal abuse from that asshole, and an apartment stuck in the ‘90s?
But as I peered through the window that led to the bar, I saw Ashton putting his shirt back on.
He’s had a rough year.
Maybe he wasn’t always like this … maybe I could fix him, and in doing so fix myself. I was pretty sure there was a term for that in psychology, but I didn’t care. The fact was, I needed this. A large part of me died that day with Colin and a teeny-tiny part of me was starting to feel alive again, even in these horrible conditions.
I was going to fix Ashton Knight. Fix his attitude, his bar, his smoking habit, and his apartment building. Everything was going to be perfect and shiny and new by the time I left and that would be my closure. Because as of right now, Colin hadn’t saved anyone worth saving.
Chapter 5
Millie
“Order up!” I yelled. And then added motherfucker under my breath.
I’d been reduced to a subpar fry cook. Making only three dishes: chicken fingers, pretzel bites, and fucking nachos with the nasty orange cheese sauce and canned beef. It was vomit worthy.
He didn’t even have a god damned onion! Of course no cilantro, but what respectable kitchen didn’t have an onion or potato? He didn’t even sell French fries! It was a crime against humanity. I was surprised these idiots were ordering anything at all.
His head popped into the back and he ushered me over.
I turned the oil to low and walked over to greet him. “What?”
He winced at my appearance. “You should stay hydrated, you’re sweating like a pig.”
I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose so that I didn’t actually attempt to kill him.
“Is that what you came to tell me?” I snapped my eyes open and curled my upper lip at him. He looked pleased with himself, like he enjoyed riling me up.
He shook his head. “I’m shorthanded tonight. Can you run out the orders after you cook them?”
My mouth popped open. “You want me to cook and serve?”
The nerve on this dude. We hadn’t even talked about my salary, but I was venturing to guess it was minimum wage.
He looked like I’d inconvenienced him. “Look, can you or not? I’ve got this stupid event thing. A big party coming in.”
I crossed my arms. “Are you capable of saying please?”
He nodded. “Yep. I am.” Then the motherfucker grinned, without saying please.