Cards of Love by Claudia Burgoa

Author:Claudia Burgoa [Burgoa, Claudia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Claudia Burgoa

10

Kaitlynn

Oliver made it happen. He took a couple of shifts from my manager over the week, so my manager could cover me on Sunday. Actually, he’s been working all week, only missing a few hours here and there. Today is our first day off since Monday. Since he wouldn’t take the day off unless I did, I agreed not to work. Although I did sneak by the restaurant this morning to receive the catch of the day from my supplier.

Ollie might think that I won’t swing by the restaurant all day. But if he thinks I’m skipping closing, he’s got another thing coming. No one closes the restaurant but me. I left a procedures list for the staff, but I know they’re going to miss something.

He wants me to delegate. He’s dead set on becoming part of the management. He can’t understand why I don’t have an accountant ... or a business plan. Dad used to handle all of the administrative stuff. My strategy is to follow his procedure—he wrote everything down. We never budgeted for an accountant. Adding one would kill the minimal profit we currently make. I’d have to start living in the restaurant because I couldn’t afford another employee plus my own rent.

Honestly, it’s tempting to let Oliver use that business degree he keeps bragging about. But only if I can pay him in something more feasible than cash ... like cobbler. I’ll throw in a pint of homemade ice cream as his signing bonus. As long as he keeps his hands to himself, I think we’ll be fine.

I can’t afford crushing on him again. Eight years ago, was bad enough. After he broke my heart, I spent weeks drowning my sorrows in cartons of ice cream and boxes of wine. And that’s how I ended up with Steve. “Esteban.” That fucking slimy, comedian weasel. There was nothing funny about him. Once he found out I was leaving for Atlanta, he stole my TV and ran off with my roommate. Not that she was pretty, but her dad was rich so I guess that counts for something.

“I never got a thank you,” I grumble to Oliver who is in the driver’s seat next to me.

“For what?”

“Uh, for taking care of your car for five years?”

“Hmm … that was you?”

“Who else would do it? What? You think it changed its oil by itself? Turned itself on every week?”

“So, you’re the reason my car has two thousand extra miles on it?”

I shrug innocently. “Someone had to show this baby what Tybee Island looks like.”

“A few hundred times?”

“Maybe.” I chuckle.

He laughs. “Well, thanks. I really appreciate it. I should repay you somehow.”

“Oh. I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say. “A simple thank you is all I need.”

“Nonsense. Let me fix your restaurant for you, and then we’ll call it even,”

I cross my arms. “You’re impossible, Tanner.”

“Only because you’re stubborn, Blythe,” he says.

“I might close it,” I confess. Javier’s offer is so tempting. “Someone offered me a job.”

“Doing what?”

“My own cooking show,” I tell him, explaining all the details, including the salary and benefits.

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