“You’re here early this morning. I wasn’t expecting you to roll in until your usual two minutes late.” He pours himself a cup of coffee then retrieves another mug from the cabinet above the counter.
“A, the train schedule is not my fault, and B, I always stay two minutes later than I’m scheduled to make up for it. Your attempt to nitpick is flawed, at best, sir.”
I see the slight flicker of his lips pursing as he pours coffee into the second mug and adds two sugars and one cream.
“For you.” He slides the mug across the counter toward me.
“You know how I take my coffee?”
“I’m a very perceptive man, and as it would happen, that spreadsheet isn’t needed for this meeting. I suppose I forgot to email you about that when I got the call around dinnertime that they had cancelled.” He picks up his coffee and takes a sip.
I stare blankly for a few moments, giving him my best slow blink before speaking. “You knew last night, literally minutes after I left the office, that I didn’t need to work at home. Last. Night?”
“Yes. As I said, it slipped my mind to inform you.” He lifts my mug from the counter and offers it to me. “Here. It seems like you could use the caffeine. You’re a bit grumpy, I think.”
What an asshole.
I yank the mug from his grip, suppressing the desire to toss the scalding coffee in his face and grip it with both hands.
“Then why are you here so early if there is no meeting?” I ask, blowing the steam swirling up from the mug.
“I am expecting someone this morning. They should be here any minute, actually.”
He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest in a way that is both authoritative and relaxed. It makes my head spin.
“Must be important then. You’re never here unnecessarily.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Kingston, I’m here entirely too much.” He pushes off the counter and straightens his collar and it’s clear to me this conversation is over, at least according to him.
“Why do you do that?” I cross my arms the way he just had his.
“Do what?”
“Call me Ms. Kingston sometimes and Piper other times.”
I would never admit it out loud, but I love when he calls me by my name. I like the way the P sounds rolls off his tongue. And to be honest, Ms. Kingston gives me billionaire Dom vibes, and that’s a mentality I cannot have at the office because I’ll never get any work done.
“I call you Piper because it’s your name, and Ms. Kingston when I’m trying to get my point across.”
I swear that I see a bit of a… look… on his face when he says that, and it makes me squeeze my thighs together.
I clear my throat then speak.
“Well, I guess I should get to work, considering I’m here ninety minutes early.”
“That is what I pay you for.”
I release a heavy breath and turn on my heel toward the door, but his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Piper.”
I turn toward him. “Yes?”
“I’d like you to sit in on the contract meeting with the studio we are pegging to produce all the audiobooks. Tomorrow, midday. There will be some deal points tossed back and forth and I’d like you to take note of them as they occur.”
“Are you sure the meeting is really happening, and I won’t get here tomorrow and be told otherwise?” I level a stare at him.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
“I’ll be ready with bells on. I’ll be chained to my desk, I mean at my desk if you need anything,” I tease as I leave the room.
Was I… was I flirting with him? Jesus Christ, I’m in the Twilight Zone.
“Hmm. Chains. I find that very intriguing, Ms. Kingston.” He flashes me a grin then slips by me and out the door.”
What the actual fuck was that about?
I take a sip of my coffee, and of course, it’s perfect. Just the way I like it.
That both pleases and annoys the shit out me.
***
By the time I walk into Kingston’s nearly eleven hours later, I’m dead on my feet and grumpy as hell.
After our very interesting conversation in the kitchen this morning, I didn’t see much of Nathanial. Just a passing here and there when he needed something done.
He was a shell of the man who was speaking to me over coffee. I am trying not to overthink it, but I am a female, with female brain, and hormones. I’m genetically predisposed to overthinking every chance I get.
There are more people in the main seating area than normal. Our staff and Ma seem to be managing pretty well, but I still jump in and help as best I can.
Spaghetti carbonara, eggplant Parmesan, Alfredo, oh my.
Plate after plate served out to our guests. Wine flowing. Tips lining my pockets, which will eventually go straight into the register because we need all the help we can get, and when the last guest leaves at eleven, I collapse into a booth in the corner.
“I’ll just stay here and sleep. Goodnight,” I say to our hostess, Casey, with an exhausted grin.
She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my life. Eighteen years old, going to college part time, while working full time with us to help take care of her siblings since her mother is a true piece of work and in prison. But I’ve never heard a single complaint out of her mouth. She’s the definition of a badass bitch.
“As long as I can do the same, you’ve got yourself a deal.” She plops down on the other side of the booth and rests her head on her hands.
It’s hard for me to look at nights like tonight, when the restaurant does so well, and not harbor some form of anger and resentment toward my father.
Had he not done the things he did before he died, nights like this would be added bonuses for the business, but now, this will only go to pay more toward the loans my mom can hardly afford as it is.
It nearly cancels all success out.
And that kills me for my mother, because it’s almost as if she is trying to ignore it, but I know the time is coming where we won’t be able to do that anymore. It’ll be time to pay up, or get your ass out.
The latter scares the hell out of me.
“I could stay just like this all night,” Casey says, “But I need to get home so I can study.”
“Go on. I can handle the cleanup tonight. You’ve got more important things to take care of.”
“I can’t let you do that, Piper.” She shakes her head, trying her best to dig her feet into the ground and be stubborn.
“I’m demanding you go. Seriously. It’s fine. You need to go home. It’s late and you have things to do. I’ve got this.”
I can see relief spread over her body in the form of relaxed shoulders and a released breath. “Thank you so much.” She stands. “I owe you.”
“Nah.” I wave her off. “You’re good people. I like to help the good ones.”
“Hey, never forget that you’re good people too.”
“I try.”
***
“Piper, I spoke with Greta Russo this morning…”
“Oh God, Ma, not this again.” I toss the cleaning rag into the bucket of soapy water that we use to clean each table and booth.