Lou bathed in the compliment. Maybe it was all just teasing, but his words warmed her more than a thousand extravagant gifts.
“Hey, what’s with all the cookbooks? I didn’t know you were so into cooking.” Al twitched a little. Had she pried too much? Lou rolled over to look Al in the eyes, laying one leg over his waist and resting her hands on his chest, running her fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to be nosy—I thought it might be fun to cook dinner together sometime.”
Al’s normally cool eyes heated and his voice choked a little when he said, “Sure.”
“You feeling okay?”
Al nudged her with his hips. Lou’s eyes widened and she leaned her head back to laugh. Al took the opportunity to trail hot kisses down her throat.
“I think I’m starting to feel ill again.”
Lou pulled his chin back up to her mouth in response. Right now, she couldn’t be happier that her restaurant was failing.
• CHAPTER NINETEEN •
Al checked his watch, grabbed a cup of tea to go, and walked out the door. He stepped onto Water Street, where the sky was a pristine blue. A crisp fall breeze ruffled his hair while the sun warmed his face and birds chirped. Snow White had never experienced a day as spectacular as this. He half expected pigeons to swoop down and airlift him to work. Except for that ominous black cloud of guilt spreading on the horizon.
He loved Lou. He loved her warm brown eyes, her freckled nose, her quick smile. He loved her gentle, slightly callused and scarred hands, the hands of an artist. Every aspect of his life had improved since meeting Lou, yet he couldn’t enjoy any of it.
His hands shook at the thought of her discovering his secret identity, spilling hot tea onto his wrist, an inadequate penance. His insides clenched with guilt over the pain he had caused her and the additional pain he would cause her if she ever learned the truth. Without a solution, that cloud threatened everything Lou had helped him discover. He couldn’t be the cause of more heartache in her life. He needed to stop that cloud from taking over her life, too.
• • • • •
“Lou got lucky last night,” Sue’s voice said in a singsong tone.
Lou propped the back restaurant door open to let in the refreshing fall breeze. After months of sweltering kitchens, the chilly air lifted her spirits. Or maybe it was waking up in Al’s arms; he really did seem miraculously recovered. She pulled on her chef’s jacket and joined Sue at the prep station.
“How could you possibly know that? I just got here.”
“You look like a white shirt under a black light—all glowy. Couldn’t wait to rub it in my face, could you?”
“I can’t help that you and Harley haven’t figured it out. Do you need a diagram? I can draw one up for you.”
“Bite me.”
Both women started laughing. It felt good after so many months of stress and uncertainty. Sue elbowed Lou and said, “Seriously, all good?”
Lou’s face softened, then softened some more, followed by a dreamy sigh. She looked at Sue. “Real good.”
“Barf . . . if you got any sappier it’d smell like a Pine-Sol commercial in here.” Harley’s voice broke Lou’s dreamy mood.
“Oh, Harley, let her enjoy the honeymoon phase. It’s not often Lou has a lucky night.”
Cough. “Morning.” Cough. Lou batted her eyes at Sue.
“You wench.” Sue hugged her tight. “I’m so happy for you.”
Lou gave Sue a scrunched-nose smile. “How’s prep coming?”
Sue’s face fell like a soufflé taken out of the oven too soon. Harley emerged from his corner to stand beside her.
“Okay, now I’m concerned. What happened?”
“Two bussers called to quit today, Alison gave her two-week notice, and only the Meyers have reservations.”
“Well, it’s only a Wednesday. It’s never a busy night. I’ll help bus tables if needed. Who’s scheduled to wait?”
“Billy. He’s the only waiter left.”
“So it’s just us now.”
Lou sighed, not because employees had quit, but because she knew they had to. Business just wasn’t there at Luella’s anymore. The restaurant industry ran on tips—preferably cash, thank you very much. No customers, no tips, no employees.
“That’s right. Sam quit last week—he got a job at the new steak house. He should make some good money there. What about you two? Where have you applied?” Lou asked.
Harley looked down to study the floor mats, but Sue looked directly into Lou’s eyes.
“You know damn well we aren’t looking. We’re here till you close the doors. Harley volunteered to wait tables if needed.”
Harley’s head snapped up. “I did not.”
Lou smiled at Sue’s ribbing. She always knew where to poke him. “The horror. I don’t think we’ve come to that yet. But can you imagine a customer’s face with Harley thundering up to them?”
“I don’t thunder.”
“Of course not. You’re a vision of grace and delicacy in an ink-stained wrapper,” said Sue.
Harley studied his tattoos. “I like my ink.”
Sue gave him a soft smile and slipped her hand into his. “So do I.”
Lou had never seen any form of affection between the two before. It was about time! It felt right that they would make a connection. Big, burly Harley with the heart of an angel, soul of a teddy bear, and Sue with her backbone of titanium, spiked with rusty nails, ready to take on any threat to those close to her.
She needed them to find work soon. She couldn’t afford to pay them much longer, never mind paying herself. She’d lost ten pounds because she only ate one meal a day and walked everywhere to avoid spending money on gas. At least she had it to lose.
“Seriously, you two, you need to find jobs. Soon.”
“Are you firing us?” Sue asked.
“I don’t want it to come to that. Just start looking, please.”
• • • • •
“I can’t do it, mate. I love her,” Al said to John in a hushed voice so their coworkers couldn’t hear.
“Whoa.” John put his hands out to stop Al’s insane ramblings. “Six months ago you couldn’t wait to get out of town. The women were ugly, the men stupid, and don’t get me started on what you said about the food. Now you’re in love and want to live here forever?”
“Right, right. I was a douche canoe, as you so eloquently said once. I know better now.” Al picked up his pen and started shaking it, creating the illusion of a rubber pen.
“You’re glossing over the fundamental flaw in the plan, dude. You sunk her restaurant. I don’t care if you make Fabio look like a crude Neanderthal and she forgives more sins than the Pope, she ain’t forgiving you for this.”
Al sat back in his chair, defeated.
“You’re right. This will crush her. I can’t do it. John, I’m going to lose her.” Al looked at John, eyes begging him for rescue, a way to protect Lou’s heart from his thoughtless, arrogant words so many months ago.
“Well, maybe you can keep it from her, like a CIA job.”
“Be serious. I like my job; I’m proud of my writing. I need to share that with her.” He started tapping his pen on his forehead, as if hoping to dislodge a brilliant solution.
“Maybe you can get a job somewhere else as a food critic.”
“No. This is the job I want.” Al sat up. “Wait, maybe . . . you might have it. I need to talk to Hannah.” Al got up and rushed toward Hannah’s office.
John leaned back in his chair. “Happy to help.”
• • • • •
Al paused outside Hannah’s office to catch his breath and organize his idea. He looked in the door to see Hannah talking on her phone, feet up on the desk, and at least three pencils stuck in her bun. She held up a finger to let him know she saw him there and to wait.