The kind of glow you get when you’ve pulled off something big. Earned it.
And yeah. She has.
There’s a faint flush on her cheeks as she wipes down her station, her skin dewy with the lingering heat of the line. A few loose strands of hair have slipped from the twist piled high on her head, where a pencil juts out like some kind of culinary wizard wand. Her curls are frizzed from the steam, her lips curved in the kind of quiet smile that sayswe did it.
“Not bad for opening night,” she says, voice low, as if the kitchen might shatter if she talks too loudly.
I nod, drying my hands on a towel. “Yeah. You were good tonight.”
Her eyes flick up. “Thanks, boss.”
The word hits harder than it should.
I clear my throat. “We’re gonna need to keep things professional.”
Josie pauses mid-wipe, her hand still resting on the damp cloth against the stainless steel. Her shoulders stiffen, just slightly, then she straightens slowly, setting the rag aside with precise care. When she turns to face me, her expression is composed, calm. But I catch the flicker in her eyes before she blinks it away.
Her chin lifts. Only a fraction.
She tilts her head, lips quirking in a way that doesn’t quite pass for amused. “Because of the video?”
“And the lemon bars. And the comments section. And the literal heart emojis someone put on the kitchen whiteboard,” I say dryly, folding my arms across my chest like it’ll anchor me. “People are already talking. And I’m starting to see that this town doesn’t do subtle.”
She lets out a soft breath, not quite a sigh, more like she’s releasing something she was holding onto. Her gaze drops for a beat, lashes brushing her cheeks, then lifts again. Steadier now, more guarded.
“Strictly business,” I add, quieter now. “Just so we’re clear.”
The silence that follows stretches long. Taut.
She presses her lips together, nods once, then pastes on a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s the kind of smile you wear when you don’t want anyone to know it hurts inside.
“Of course,” she says with a bright, easy tone. “Professional’s my middle name. You know, if you ignore the part where it’s actually Marie.”
I almost smile.Almost. But it catches in my chest.
She shrugs, light and breezy, like it’s nothing.
“I should head out,” she adds, already pulling her bag over her shoulder, fingers tightening a little more than necessary around the strap. “My mom’s gonna call and ask how it went, and I’m legally obligated to give her a dramatic retelling or she’ll make one up.”
I nod again, slower this time. “Get some rest.”
“You too.”
She walks to the door, steps measured and sure, but there’s tension in the line of her shoulders that wasn’t there before.
Then she pauses and glances back.
“And Knox?”
I look up, and something about her standing there, looking so beautiful it hurts, makes it hard to breathe.
“Thanks for the job. Really.”
Then she’s gone.
Just like that.
And I stand there, surrounded by empty wine glasses and the faint smell of lemon bars, wondering why the wordsstrictly businesstaste like ash in my mouth.
