on Cole. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said.
She blew out a breath, the anxiety falling from her face. “All right then. We have a ton of orders, so let’s get back to it.”
“Thanks, guys,” PJ said as the last of her staff went out the back door. “Good job.”
“See you in the morning.”
The door shut and PJ went to lock it. Morning. There was so much to do before they opened for brunch. She couldn’t think about any of that now, though. She only wanted to bask in the success of the evening.
The electricity had held out the rest of the night, but she’d called an electrician friend of her dad who was coming tomorrowmorning to have a look. She’d sneaked an Ativan at her first opportunity. Zoned out she could live with. Panic attacks she could not.
She glanced around the kitchen, making sure all was in order. Her cookware was bright and shiny and hanging overhead. They weren’t the Bourgeat, but they’d worked just fine.
She should be tired, as late as it was, but the excitement of the night lingered, making her jittery with energy. Or maybe that was the coffee she’d drunk while counting receipts. Another reason for excitement. She’d raked it in tonight. Of course every night wouldn’t be so profitable, but it gave her hope.
The fading aromas of steak and garlic mingled with the pungent smell of sanitizer. Everything was back to sparkly new, the ceramic floor clean and still wet in spots. She flipped out the lights. She couldn’t even think about going to sleep right now, never mind that she’d have to be up at the break of dawn.
Besides, there was one more thing she had to do.
She scaled the stairs to the second floor and walked down the hallway. Things were coming along up here. Almost finished. The walls painted, the bathroom put back together. The last two rooms had become a small kitchen and dining room that opened to a living room. It was a small but cozy space where the kids could gather for TV and meals, though there were no furnishings yet.
At the top of the attic stairs a sliver of light shone beneath the door. PJ headed up, her heart in her throat for some silly reason. It was only the caffeine making her heart race, making her hands tremble.
She rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in.”
She turned the knob and opened the door. Cole was sitting on a rug, his back to the wall.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.”
He wore only jeans. She thought maybe there was paperwork or something spread around him, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from his bare chest. The perfection was marred by a scar that ran from his shoulder to his heart.
“Congrats on your opening. It seemed like a huge success.”
She forced her gaze away, quickly scanning the room. He’d acquired a real bed and a couple pieces of furniture since her last jaunt up the attic stairs.
“Except for the little matter of losing electricity and having a full-blown panic attack in the middle of rush.”
“Both of which you overcame.”
“Thanks to you. I didn’t have a clue which switch to flip on the doohickey, and obviously I wasn’t in any shape to handle it.”
“You would’ve figured it out.”
“Plus you rescued Maeve’s filet. You don’t know what that means to me.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You haven’t read her review yet.”
“You’re not very good at this.”
“What?”
“You’re welcome—it’s the appropriate thing to say when someone offers their gratitude.” She smiled to soften the words.
The way the lamplight washed over the planes of his face waspure artwork. She was pretty sure it was doing the same thing to his chest, but she didn’t risk a peek.
He rubbed his jaw. “I was half afraid you’d think I’d caused it.”
“What?”
“The overload.”
She winced. It hadn’t even occurred to her. But after the way she’d jumped all over him about the cookware, she couldn’t blame him.
“I know you didn’t. And I know you didn’t take the cookware.
“Yeah,” he said.
She blew out a breath, the anxiety falling from her face. “All right then. We have a ton of orders, so let’s get back to it.”
“Thanks, guys,” PJ said as the last of her staff went out the back door. “Good job.”
“See you in the morning.”
The door shut and PJ went to lock it. Morning. There was so much to do before they opened for brunch. She couldn’t think about any of that now, though. She only wanted to bask in the success of the evening.
The electricity had held out the rest of the night, but she’d called an electrician friend of her dad who was coming tomorrowmorning to have a look. She’d sneaked an Ativan at her first opportunity. Zoned out she could live with. Panic attacks she could not.
She glanced around the kitchen, making sure all was in order. Her cookware was bright and shiny and hanging overhead. They weren’t the Bourgeat, but they’d worked just fine.
She should be tired, as late as it was, but the excitement of the night lingered, making her jittery with energy. Or maybe that was the coffee she’d drunk while counting receipts. Another reason for excitement. She’d raked it in tonight. Of course every night wouldn’t be so profitable, but it gave her hope.
The fading aromas of steak and garlic mingled with the pungent smell of sanitizer. Everything was back to sparkly new, the ceramic floor clean and still wet in spots. She flipped out the lights. She couldn’t even think about going to sleep right now, never mind that she’d have to be up at the break of dawn.
Besides, there was one more thing she had to do.
She scaled the stairs to the second floor and walked down the hallway. Things were coming along up here. Almost finished. The walls painted, the bathroom put back together. The last two rooms had become a small kitchen and dining room that opened to a living room. It was a small but cozy space where the kids could gather for TV and meals, though there were no furnishings yet.
At the top of the attic stairs a sliver of light shone beneath the door. PJ headed up, her heart in her throat for some silly reason. It was only the caffeine making her heart race, making her hands tremble.
She rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in.”
She turned the knob and opened the door. Cole was sitting on a rug, his back to the wall.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.”
He wore only jeans. She thought maybe there was paperwork or something spread around him, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from his bare chest. The perfection was marred by a scar that ran from his shoulder to his heart.
“Congrats on your opening. It seemed like a huge success.”
She forced her gaze away, quickly scanning the room. He’d acquired a real bed and a couple pieces of furniture since her last jaunt up the attic stairs.
“Except for the little matter of losing electricity and having a full-blown panic attack in the middle of rush.”
“Both of which you overcame.”
“Thanks to you. I didn’t have a clue which switch to flip on the doohickey, and obviously I wasn’t in any shape to handle it.”
“You would’ve figured it out.”
“Plus you rescued Maeve’s filet. You don’t know what that means to me.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You haven’t read her review yet.”
“You’re not very good at this.”
“What?”
“You’re welcome—it’s the appropriate thing to say when someone offers their gratitude.” She smiled to soften the words.
The way the lamplight washed over the planes of his face waspure artwork. She was pretty sure it was doing the same thing to his chest, but she didn’t risk a peek.
He rubbed his jaw. “I was half afraid you’d think I’d caused it.”
“What?”
“The overload.”
She winced. It hadn’t even occurred to her. But after the way she’d jumped all over him about the cookware, she couldn’t blame him.
“I know you didn’t. And I know you didn’t take the cookware.
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