Killian stared at me. Or maybeglared at mewas a more appropriatedescription. “Vera,” he repeated, my name spitting out of his mouth like a curseword. “Vera what?”
I tried to swallow again. I barelymanaged. “Delane.”
Killian’s eyes narrowed, and thistime when he said my name it was more of a growl than a curse. “VeraDelane. I’ve never heard of you.”
Fire zinged through me, setting theremaining shreds of my backbone ablaze. “That doesn’t surprise me. We’ve nevermet before.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise butnot in kindness. “Do you know who I am?”
I barely restrained an eye roll. Iwas not over my awe. I mean, this was Killian Quinn. But it irritated me thathe was turning out to be every cliché I’d expected him to be. Cocky,self-absorbed and rude. Seconds ago, I was practically drooling over this man,and now I could barely force a polite response. “Killian Quinn?”
He jerked his chin down in a nod andsliced his gaze toLilou, then back to mine. “Yeah,and that’sLilou. You’ve heard ofLilou?”
I swallowed my rising frustration.“I’ve heard ofLilou,” I confirmed. “I’ve even seenit before. We’re practically neighbors.”
His mouth pressed into a frown andhis lips got lost in his full beard. “Well, then,neighbor, let me give you some friendly advice. Your eyesore is outof its league. A food truck doesn’t belong in this neighborhood. Or anywherenearLilou. Who told you this was a good idea?”
Something happened to me. I couldn’texplain it. I’d taken a lot of shit over the past couple of years, and I’dalways reacted in the worst possible way—meaning I laid down and took it. Ididn’t stand up for myself. Recently, I’d concluded that I just wasn’t capableof standing up for myself. Some people were fighters. Some were doormats.
I was a doormat.
Until now.
Until this moment.
Until Killian Quinn opened his bigmouth and made me see red.
My hip popped out, and I slammed myhand on it, cocking my elbow with every bit of attitude I didn’t know I had.“First of all, nobody told me this was a good idea. I came up with it all bymyself. And do you know why?” I didn’t wait for his response. It wasn’t aquestion I wanted to hear the answer to. “Because I’m perfectly capable ofcoming up with my very own ideas all by myself. I’m sorry that your fragile egofeels threatened by a chef you’ve never even heard of before, but the realityis that I open tomorrow, so you better get used to the idea of somecompetition. If you can’t hack it, then maybe you should find a differentprofession.” He slid his bottom jaw back and forth, forcing a frustrated muscleto pop. His green eyes became lasers intent on smoking me on the spot. I justtold one of the hottest chefs in the country to quit and do something else.Oh, my God.But before I could rein inmy temper or leash my tongue, I finished my angry monologue with a barelycontained threat. “And this food truck isn’t an eyesore, it’s my life. So, Idon’t welcome your insults or your prejudice. You stick to your side of thestreet, and I’ll stick to mine, and we’ll manage to go on with our liveswithout any problems.”
It took a moment for him to recover.He couldn’t seem to figure me out, and I was so proud of finally,finallysticking up for myself that Inearly ruined everything by smiling.
But even that died when his angryglare began to move over me. His eyes were hot and dangerous, and as he sweptthem from my head to my toes, I felt him take me in, weighing and measuring anddeciding my worth in one scathing glance.
My skin prickled and my insides turnedto mush. Whatever fight I had, died under his crushing intensity and couldn’tdo anything but quiver as he prepared his retort.
His mouth finally broke from hishard frown, kicking up into a cruel, mocking smile. “Do you really think youstand a chance? You can’t out cook me. You can’t compete withLilou. What are you trying to do?”
“I’m not trying to compete withLilou,” I answered honestly, proud of myself for not losingmy edge after all. “And I’mreallynot competing with you. But I do have a lot to do today, and I’m sure you have…things to prepare or whatever.” I glanced over atLilou,hoping he got the hint. My chest clenched at the sight ofLilouin all its glory, and my heart kicked against my breastbone, just like everyother time I’d looked at it.
“Yeah, I’ve got a restaurant torun,” he bit out. He took a step back without turning around, without removinghis glower.
The way he said “restaurant” was thefinal insult. If he wanted to get to me, he finally landed the right punch.
Because I’d never be a restaurant.Because nobody would ever confuse my food truck with his five-star kitchen.Because he was a chef and I was a glorified line cook.
“Thanks for welcoming me to theneighborhood,Killian Quinn.” Mysmile was overly sweet and subtly vicious. My nose stung and I knew I was justseconds away from crying. I needed him to leave before that happened—before hesaw how much his words wounded me.
His steps paused, and I was forcedto look at him again. He shook his head, a bitter expression of disbelieftwisting his handsome features. “I don’t know what to think about you,VeraDelane.”
“Then don’t,” I bit back.
“What?”
“Don’t think about me. Pretend likeI don’t exist, and I’ll do the same to you.”
He stared at me for a few momentslonger, probably trying to decide if I was serious. Which I was. I didn’t evenfeel like crying anymore. That was how serious I was. Whatever pedestal I’dplaced him on had disintegrated beneath the weight of his ego. He was no longerthe revered chef I hoped to be some day. He was just your common asshole thatthought too highly of himself.
Making a sound in the back of histhroat, he didn’t say another word. He finally turned his back to me and marchedacross the street, back toLilou, back to the fameand glory he was used to. His shoulders didn’t sag in defeat, and his long legsnever lost the swagger of a man completely confident with himself and histalent. Just because I got the last word didn’t mean I won anything.
