Ahundred horrible things rolled around in my mouth. I settled on a confused,“What?”
Hisgreen eyes glinted at me, and his fingers clenched the doorframe, knucklesturning white from the pressure. “You had one bad weekend, and you quit?”
Adangerous emotion started to bubble up in my throat. “I didn’t have a badweekend. I had a great weekend.” My angry thoughts all tried to push out of mymouth at the same time, and I had to take a breath to make a coherent sentence.“And I didn’t quit. I’m just getting started.”
“Youhaven’t been here since Saturday.”
Iswallowed despite my dry throat. He looked even better than I remembered him,which sucked since he was an awful human. His black t-shirt clung to his raisedbiceps, and his beard had been recently trimmed into cleaner lines. Basically,he was obnoxiously hot, and I hated him.
Hisaccusation penetrated my heat-addled brain, and I narrowed my eyes belatedly.“I haven’t been here since Saturday because I’m only open Thursday throughSaturday.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Whyare you only open three nights a week?” His patience was obviously wearingthin, but I didn’t understand why he’d bothered to walk all the way over herejust to pester me.
So,I asked him. “I’m so confused. Why are you here?”
Forthe first time since I turned around, he glanced away. For a second, I thoughtI saw an emotion other than loathing in his intense expression. I even thoughtmaybe his cheeks turned a little red, but it was hard to tell because of hisbeard. And it was so damn hot that it could have been because of that.
“Ithought maybe my suggestions…” he started. Clearing his throat, he tried again.
Suddenly,I was so angry I was sure I could breathe fire if I needed to. “You thoughtyour nasty little note drove me to quit my business?” I made a sound in theback of my throat that reminded me of Vann. “I’m not that insecure.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. But I sounded convincing, and thatwas all that mattered.
Hisglare snapped back to mine, pinning me under the concentration of hisirritation. “Nasty little note? You make it sound like I was jealous.”
Icouldn’t stop the ridiculous words before they flew out of my mouth. “Maybebecause you are.”
Hiseyes widened with incredulity, and I realized how stupid I sounded, howcompletely idiotic my accusations were. “You think I’m jealous of you?” hedemanded. “That’s what this is about? I’m jealous of a food truck?”
“God,you’re a pompous asshole. Do you hear yourself?”
Helaughed, but it was bitter and humorless. “You open up a food truck across fromthe greatest restaurant in this city and call me pompous? Unbelievable!” Hemoved his head in a slow shake that sent embarrassment spiraling through me.“That’s the last time I try to help a—” He held his hand up and took a stepback. But then quickly stepped forward again, crowding the doorway. “You knowwhat? I felt sorry for you. You show up here in this expensive… thing. You’reobviously spending money on marketing and logos, and then I tasted that… God,that food. It’s not that you don’t have potential. It’s just that it’scompletely wasted on easy, fast food that I could find anywhere.”
“Out.”His eyes widened again, only this time it was from surprise. “Get out. I don’thave to listen to you insult me. Not everybody can be the great Killian Quinn.Not everyone has food critics wrapped around their fingers and a team of chefsat their disposal. I’m doing the best I can. This food truck is my life, andI’m not going to let you or anyone else push me around just because they feelthreatened by a little competition.”
Heglared at me, his gaze sweeping over my length, taking my measure, determiningmy worth. “You’re not my competition.”
My tone was knife sharp, unwavering when Itold him, “And you’re not mine.”
Iswallowed against a jagged bolt of dread when his bright eyes narrowed withchallenge. “We’ll see.” He leaned toward me, and I accidentally inhaled him,spice and mint and something that was neither of those things, something thatmade my mouth go dry and my belly heat. “Good luck, Vera. You’re going to needit.”
Iwas too shocked that he remembered my name to get a good last word in. Hedidn’t wait around for one anyway. He left me staring at him, clinging to mycourage and anger. I couldn’t let them go. I needed them, needed to wear themlike armor.
Ihated that I watched him cross the street and disappear insideLilou. I hated that I stared at the door for another tenminutes waiting for him to come back and apologize.
Ihated that he was this complete opposite of me, that he had everything that I’dever wanted and would never get. I hated that I couldn’t want those thingsanymore.
Icouldn’t let myself.
Becauseif I remembered what I used to want, the things I was forced to give up and letgo of… I would crumble.
Iwould shatter.
Mostof all, I hated that after how awful Killian Quinn was, his opinion meanteverything to me.
