need to make this kind of effort.
“You realize you’re basically working for free, right? That you’re cleaning a kitchen that will be torn out in a month?” I said between mouthfuls.
She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. How’s the food?”
I shoved the last bit in my mouth and shrugged. “Good enough.”
Her face contorted with rage and the viper was back. She disappeared from the pass-through window and burst from the double doors, facing me down in all her sweaty beautiful glory.
Good God she was sexy when angry.
“Good enough?” she seethed, stepping closer to me until I felt the heat of her body flush against mine. She probably thought she was intimidating me, but she had all the fight of an angry kitten. Her anger only turned me on. My gaze fell to her plush pink lips and my dick went hard.
“I’ll show you good enough. Game on, motherfucker,” she growled, and spun, sauntering off into the kitchen.
Damn. What had I gotten myself into with this one? She was crazy, unpredictable with a temper of a grizzly bear, but there was something else there. Something sweet and passionate and holy hell could she cook.
I peeked my head back in the kitchen. “If you have more of that chicken stuff, I’ll take it. I mean we can’t go wasting food and I didn’t have dinner,” I grumbled.
Her lips cocked into a smile but she said nothing.
This woman was trouble, and I was too deep into whatever it was we were doing to back out now.
The hours passed slowly. Millie started to serve some new items and the whopping three customers we had that night seemed to love it. Big deal. It wouldn’t save this place. I should call Darcy and Gran right now and just sign the papers…
But something about the passion Millie put into this place, into the food, it reminded me of Jenna, dammit. If I let Millie try to make the place more profitable, was it like letting Jenna do her “Brunch at Wayne’s” idea? Could this be my way to assuage my guilt that my twin sister never got her dream?
My mind was fucked; I chewed over things for hours until closing. I wished I’d never let Millie come work here. She was messing up my routine.
With a sigh, I grabbed the keys and went to lock up for the night. I was just about to slide the key in to lock the doors when my dad stumbled in.
Oh Jesus. The stench of feces hit my nose and I pulled my shirt up to cover it. My dad staggered inside the entryway and nearly fell over, but I caught him in time.
Without warning, he leaned over my arm and retched up the contents of his stomach. Sour alcohol filled the air and I heard Millie’s footsteps behind me.
“God dammit!” I yelled at my old man as he slipped from my arms and fell to the floor. “Can’t you keep your shit together for a few days! You’ve made a mess that I’ll have to clean up!” Work, that’s all this man was for me. Work, heartache, and the reminder that I didn’t have a decent parent alive. If my mom could see him now, she’d roll over in her grave.
Millie walked up and nearly stepped in the vomit as my dad started mumbling incoherently.
I didn’t want her to see this, I didn’t want anyone to see what my father had become.
Reaching down, I hooked one arm under each of his armpits and started to drag him away from the front door.
He’d shit himself, I could smell it from here. Millie just stared wide-eyed at the both of us. I’d never been more embarrassed in my entire life. Why didn’t she fucking walk away? They didn’t teach privacy in New York?
“I have enough problems in my life!” I roared at my old man. “I don’t need you in it too.”
Millie gasped just as I tripped over a loose tile and fell backward. My butt hit the tile hard and my dad landed right on top of me.
“Ashton!” she shouted and I looked up at her, daring her to make this moment worse for me. “You shouldn’t talk to people like that.” Her voice was small, and I suddenly realized she didn’t know this was my dad. She probably thought he was some random homeless dude that I was an asshole to.
“Mind your own business, Princess. He’s my father and I’ll talk to him however I want.”
Her mouth popped open