Perfect Match Enemies to lovers romance - Leia Stone Page 0,16

truffle oil. Hell, even an avocado to make guacamole for these sad, depressing nachos.

Ashton had the nerve to come back and check on me, asking what was taking so long.

Hah!

I couldn’t tell if he was an actual asshole from hell, or if he was just messing with me.

When the food was ready, I turned the heat back down on the oil and started to run plates out. Ashton sat with his family, looking as depressed as I’d ever seen anyone.

“How did the tests go at the hospital?” his grandma was asking him as he sipped a beer.

“Fine.” His voice was monotone.

Man this guy needed to cheer the fuck up. I set the food down at random places across the table. “Sorry there isn’t anything fresher. Ashton doesn’t even have a refrigerator back there, more or less a sprig of cilantro.”

My pride felt the need to apologize for the shitty food.

Everyone chuckled, except Ashton.

“Oh, honey, this place has never been known for its fine cuisine,” his grandma assured me.

“It’s a bar, Gran. Liquor and a bathroom are all that’s required,” Ashton snapped.

She reached up and thwacked him behind the head. “Don’t you sass me. And you shouldn’t be drinking either.” She yanked the beer from his hands.

A grin pulled at my lips and Ashton shot me a death glare. Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out his cigarettes that I had grabbed from behind the bar counter. “Oh, you left these behind the counter. Thought you might want one. I’ve never seen you go so long without smoking.” I laid them in front of Ashton and his eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“Ashton Paul Knight, don’t tell me you’ve been smoking!” his grandma roared, and I turned to leave.

Checkmate, motherfucker.

I’d have this guy drinking kale shakes before Monday.

I lost track of time. I was cook, server, and bartender while Aston sat like the Grinch with his smiling family. They laughed and took pictures and told stories. All the while he scowled and looked like he wanted to run away.

After just one night I could see why this bar was so dead.

No live music.

No decent food.

No craft beer for the hipsters.

How the hell could he afford to keep the lights on? By my calculations he’d made a whopping forty-seven dollars tonight. Colin would have come in here and asked me to craft authentic and edgy menus. He’d get a live band and he’d turn this place into a new hot spot. That was his gift … a gift I didn’t have. But I couldn’t deny it, this place was screaming “save me from the angry chain-smoking drunk.” I found myself wondering as the night went on: Did the customers like me? What if we threw a fresh coat of paint on the baseboards and walls? What if the bar top was chalkboard and people could write on it while they drank? What if I got a fridge and some actual food and made a decent attempt to cook? All these “what if’s” swirled around my head, and before I knew it, I wasn’t just planning on saving Ashton. I wanted to fix Wayne’s Place too.

Ashton

That sneaky, conniving little psycho! She was worse than I thought, not just feisty but a full-fledged witch. I took off into the kitchen after finally seeing my family out. The pack of cigarettes, which my Gran had squashed with her fist, was firmly clenched between my fingers.

I burst through the double doors of the kitchen to find Millie with her shirt tucked up under her bra, exposing her lean stomach as rivulets of sweat rolled down the curve of her bellybutton. She jumped when she saw me, startled, and yanked down her shirt.

The flash of stomach had thrown me off and I forgot for a second why I was here.

Oh yeah.

I shook the cigarettes in her face. “That was a low blow.”

She tried and failed to suppress a grin. “You shouldn’t be smoking anyway.” Her eyes flicked to my chest.

Gran never should have told her about the heart transplant. Now she’d be up my ass about everything.

I growled. “Jesus, I hired my mother!” was all I could say before storming out of the kitchen and going to the bar.

I went to pour myself a whiskey but thought better of it. I was already feeling buzzed and wanted to draw the line at being drunk at work. But that woman riled me up like no other. I’d known her all of six hours and she was already snitching