Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I ground my teeth just as Leah sent more barware clattering.
“I don’t need you coming to my rescue,” she seethed, spinning toward me with fury in her eyes. “I don’t need your support. I don’t need your fake kindness or your hands-on management style or whatever the hell you’re trying to do here.”
“I’m not trying to do anything other than help,” I defended, my professionalism slipping. “We’re friends, Leah, and I can tell that—”
“Friends don’t keep secrets,” she said, cutting me off. “You didn’t tell me the truth about Finn, not any of the times I tried to be there for you, and meanwhile, I told you everything about Cameron.” She sniffed, her eyes welling. “And now, I’d bet my tip that you knew more happened with him and Gisella that night and didn’t tell me.”
My jaw hinged open. “Leah, I didn’t. I swear. I—”
“Yeah, well, your word doesn’t count for shit.”
She lifted the tray of drinks then, not giving me so much as another glance as she side-stepped where Bernard and I still stood. She was out the door in the next breath, and a long, slow one deflated out of me.
Bernard’s mouth twisted to the side. “Sorry, Em.”
I swallowed, shaking my head. “It’s fine. We just need to get back to work. Are you good?”
“Better than her,” he said, tipping his head toward where Leah had stormed out.
I nodded. “She’ll be okay. She’s hurt, and rightfully so. Hopefully it’ll blow over soon. Until then, I need you on your game. These guests will chew her up and spit her out if we don’t back her up.”
“Way ahead of you,” he said, jumping behind the bar.
“What are you doing?
“Re-making that martini. God knows Russell isn’t going to like whatever cloudy mess she’s about to serve him.”
I didn’t know why, but my nose stung as I watched him get to work. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded, his eyes briefly catching mine before he focused on what he was doing. “And I’m sorry everything went down the way it did today. You and Finn don’t deserve that.” He paused. “Even if you are cheating little foxes.”
I somehow managed a chuckle. “Would you believe me if I told you he and Gisella broke up days ago?”
“Yes,” he answered, surprising me. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need to prove anything to.”
That twist in my gut was back in full force, and then my radio crackled.
“Interior — can I get a head’s up on the lunch service timing?”
Finn’s voice was a lifeline I didn’t know I needed.
I cleared my throat. “On my way.”
The galley smelled like garlic, roasted tomatoes, and something spicy I couldn’t name. The second I walked in, it was like crossing into another universe — a quieter, less hostile one.
Finn was plating. Focused. Intentional. He heard me enter and was all business. “We still good for three o’clock? I’m on time, but I haven’t heard from you. If I need to adjust, I can—” His voice cut off when he looked up and saw me. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “We’re fine. Everything’s… fine.”
He studied me for one second too long before he stepped away from the cutting board. “Come here.”
“I don’t—”
“Have time?” He opened his arms, waving me toward him. “Me either. But I’ll make some for this. For you.”
I exhaled and crossed to him, still holding tension like it might slip out and kill someone if I let go. Finn looked around — just a quick glance to confirm we were alone, aside from the cameras we couldn’t escape — then reached for my waist.
One breath and his hands were on me, and the next, he was lowering his lips to mine.
It was unexpected, that soft, demanding kiss. I’d gone in for a hug and been met with something so much deeper. It wasn’t rushed or hungry like last night.
It was an anchor.
My eyes fluttered closed. My hands twisted in his apron. I melted into him like honey over warm bread.
And for the first time all day, I breathed.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“We can do this,” he whispered. “Two more charters. That’s it. You’re a leader, Em. You know what you’re doing. You can handle this.”
I tried to laugh, but it broke halfway out. “I can handle a crew that hates me?”
He pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes.
“You can handle anything. Because you’re Ember Fecking Reed.”
Another broken laugh from me.
“Because you’re chief stew,” he added, thumbing my jaw. “And you earned that title.”
I stared at him for a long beat, those words rooting deep, loosening something heavy inside me. I nodded once. Then again. A little stronger.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Finn kissed my forehead, warm and lingering.
“Now,” he said, reluctantly breaking away and rounding the island back to the plates. “Talk to me. Are we good on timing for these?” He checked the clock on the wall. “Guests seated in thirty?”