I suck in a deep breath of the cleanish early morning air and try to calm my racing heart and flaring temper. Getting so worked up isn’t healthy. And hearing he lost his mom like I did allows the tiniest hint of regret to creep into my heart. “I'm sorry I said that.”
He shakes his head and shifts up until he’s sitting, the movement of his perfectly toned muscles making my mouth water. “No, you're not. You meant it.”
Well, if he's going to give me an out…
“Of course, I meant it. You're doing this on purpose to make my life difficult.”
“Why would I do that?” He motions toward our building and the door to his side. “My soon-to-be restaurant is right there. This is a logical place to sunbathe so I can catch my rays and get right to work.” He offers me an almost kind smile—one I might actually believe if I had never interacted with him before. “I'm sorry it conflicts with your parking situation, but maybe you’ll just have to get here earlier next time.”
The confident smirk he gives me signifies I'm not going to get anywhere with him.
Motherfucker.
I stalk back to my car, wrench open the door, and slide in, letting the door slam behind me.
It truly isn’t in my nature to battle with anyone. I have enough battles in my life without that, but he seems intent on ruining my day and my business.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I throw the car into drive and have to circle three more blocks before finding a different parking spot. Of course, by the time I walk back to the restaurant, he's MIA from the lounge chair, but it still sits, blocking the spaces.
If I threw it on the sidewalk to open the parking, someone else would just slip in and take it before I could get back since people don’t give a shit about loading zones around here. And if I walk all the way back to my car and drive over here to do it, Jameson would undoubtedly be right back to interfere.
Jerk. Jerk. Handsome fucking jerk.
The door to his restaurant stands open, and his deep, rhythmic voice drifts out. I shouldn't eavesdrop, but if I have any chance of winning against a guy like him, I might have to play dirty.
I stop outside the door and press my back to the brick just to the side to ensure he can't see me, but I can still hear.
“Is there any way we can get that here sooner?” The frustration comes through in Jameson’s question. The man is annoyed, which brings an unnatural amount of happiness to my heart.
“Unfortunately, not. Our supplier says it’s on backorder. Some production issue.”
I don’t recognize the other voice, but it must be the contractor for his build-out or someone he ordered some equipment from.
“Shit. Can we cancel the order and you get one from somewhere else?”
“Not that model. Everywhere is sold out.”
“What about a used model from another kitchen? A restaurant that closed? I don’t even mind used at this point.”
“I already checked. None available.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jameson sounds pissed.
Good.
Any delay in his plan is only going to help me with mine. The determination to get my place open before his has kicked into overdrive. I just have to be careful not to overdo it, or I’ll end up with a major setback that will only help him win.
I rush past the door to unlock mine and slip inside. Butterflies still dance in my stomach at the realization that this place is mine. All mine. Growing up, I never could've imagined this when I was using my Easy-Bake Oven and stirring whatever was on the stove with Grams.
But now, my dream is finally coming true. If I can only figure out a way to stop Jameson Fury.
Chapter Four
IZZY
Taking a sip of my coffee, I review Anna’s resumé again, scanning her previous employers and experience even though I’m already confident she’s what I’m looking for. After almost a week of dodging Jameson and getting here before the sun comes up to ensure I can park, coffee is the only thing keeping me running. That and the joy of hearing him arrive and knowing I got here first.
Thwarting his plans feels good, even if it is a small victory in the grand scheme of things.
And although it’s a bit early to be hiring people, since it will likely be six weeks at the very least before I can open, I’m going to need help getting things set up. At least one or two trusty employees I can count on.
Days of looking through resumés have left my tired eyes itchy and sore, but finally having a candidate sitting right in front of me feels like a massive step forward toward getting this place up and running.
I glance up and grin at Anna. “Your resumé is perfect. I can’t believe you’re available and want to work in a small upstart like mine.”
She smiles back at me, her soft-blue eyes twinkling in the early morning light streaming in from the windows in the back of the restaurant. “I like it.” She shrugs. “I’ve worked at a lot of super-busy high-end restaurants, and it always burns me out. My current job is stressful as hell. This should be a little bit quieter.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat, and I shove a hand back through my hair which has become a disheveled mass after working on getting the tables and chairs moved in by myself this morning. “Well, I hope it’s eventually busy in here, too.” I hold up a hand. “But don’t worry about the high-end thing. That isn’t really my style.”
Anna glances around and nods. “I love your style.”
I look around the still mostly vacant space and can’t stop smiling. “Me, too.”
There isn’t a whole lot in here yet, just these tables and chairs I managed to salvage from a place Ashley found that was shutting down. The mismatched wood hues and crazy-painted chairs in a rainbow of colors make my heart soar, though. Maybe because they aren’t perfect, and they remind me of myself. Grams would love them, too. They’re just happy. And I could use a dose of happy these days. Most people could.
I take a deep breath and try to push that thought out of my head so I don’t lose it again. Going non-stop day and night to clean and help the contractors get things built-out has left me barely able to move without pain and regret.
Once I’m done and ready to open the doors, I’ll let myself have a big cry imagining Grams’ reaction if she were here, but for now, I need to focus on moving forward as fast as possible and ignore all the other things threatening to derail that. “So, when can I get you to start?”
Her eyes widen slightly, and she glances around. “Don’t you want to interview other people?”
I nod. “I am doing other interviews. I think I have the budget to hire four part-time people.”
“Oh…” The smile she was wearing falters slightly. “I kind of hoped to be full-time.”
Crap.
I sigh and chew on my bottom lip. “I can’t offer you full-time because of benefits and tax issues.”
“Oh.” She nods slowly. “Well, I could probably make it work as long as I was getting at least thirty hours a week.”
“No problem.”
“Really?”
I nod and rise to my feet. “Definitely. I don’t want to lose out on having you. I hope to have you here in a couple of weeks to help get the final things in order. Does that sound good?”