Saturday is great. Text me the details when you have them figured out. I’ll be there.
Okay. So, this was happening then, for better or worse. I had a date Saturday—once I figured out what the heck to plan for someone I barely knew.
And I’d be able to look Fox in the eye, knowing I wasn’t a liar, when we met up next week.
That didn’t stop the nerves from balling up in my stomach, though. I really hoped it went well, but another part of me was afraid that even if it did, I might just end up right back where I was now, recovering from a messy relationship while secretly envying how easily my brother had fallen in love.
CHAPTER 4
Jamie
I walkedalong our stainless-steel counter, positioning a shrimp over the edge of each glass of seafood ceviche—all fifty of them.
Diced tomato, onion, cucumber, and peppers gave the ceviche a vibrant, fresh color. The lemon juice, garlic, and cilantro added a zesty pop of flavor.
“Looks beautiful,” my boss, Marissa, said. “You’re becoming a real pro. Pretty soon you can run my kitchen for me.”
I smiled at the compliment, but my heart wasn’t in it.
The seafood ceviche was a popular appetizer in the summer months, and I could make it in my sleep. It was all chopping and mixing. There was no real art, aside from making it pretty. Most of the other dishes I prepared were also repeats.
Working here would never be my dream.
I didn’t want to cater to people. I wanted to make treats for dogs.
Would such a niche business ever work in a small town like Granville? I really didn’t know. For now, seafood ceviches, Caesar salads, and braised short ribs paid the bills. But if I could build up a clientele, maybe…
“Check on those cupcakes for me, will you?” Marissa called as she peeked over Theo’s shoulder. “No, no, no. Slice at an angle. We don’t want a hatchet job.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks reddening. Theo was new to catering work, and he wasn’t exactly a natural. Most of the time, he stayed on simple prep, dishwashing, and serving. But we were short-handed. Again.
I went to the oven to look in on the cupcakes. As I suspected, they needed two more minutes. I checked my phone while I waited, flutters of excitement hitting when I saw the ongoing text stream with my match.
The Matchmaking Mamas had actually come through for me. The guy was sweet and funny, and when Silas had egged me into flirting with him, he’d responded perfectly. With a little suggestive language, but nothing too crude.
Unlike hookups on the Thrust or Grindr apps, he didn’t ask about my sexual preferences or suggest we exchange dick pics. Instead, he teasingly asked what my favorite breakfast items were, just in case he ever needed to know, which was adorable and sexy at the same time.
My phone pinged while I stared at his last comments, moony-eyed as a twelve-year-old gay boy with his first crush. Sadly, it wasn’t my match this time.
My friend chat was popping off, as it did several times a day.
Silas:
Bridezilla alert! We’ve gota live one.
Maverick:
Uh-oh. Tell me she wants flowers out of Omaha.
Silas:
She does.
Maverick:
Score!
I entered the chat.
