CHAPTER FOUR
K RU
Bayshore is awaking slowly the next morning. I’m drawing deep gulps of the fresh air as I make the short drive from my rental in a nearby neighborhood over to the new building. Satisfaction prickles through me as I cross the small, sleepy town.
Holy shit. I’m doing it.
I might be two hundred thousand dollars in debt, but I’m doing it.
I pull into the parking lot—safely away from the hotly contested curb cut—just as the first rays of dawn are creeping through the sky. I made it a point to get here extra early, because I need to have an uncomfortable conversation with Piper as soon as humanly possible.
I’m raw-dogging life right now, un-caffeinated and staring down a fourteen-hour day.
But duty calls. I park my black pickup, and head around to the back of the building.
Her shop is still dark, but I know she’ll be awake—at least I hope she will be—since her shop is due to open in a little over an hour.
In the back alley, I size up the rotted staircase leading up to the apartment.
I hope it’s not an indicator of what’s up there.
I never got a tour of the apartment, just was promised that it was functional and in need of only “light repairs in line with the primary business space.”
So either a shit show awaits me or something extremely cute and bakery-esque like Piper’s shop.
Either way, it’s getting a face lift. While I’ve got the crew, I’m taking care of everything , no exceptions.
My footsteps go thud thud thud up the wooden staircase, and I’m worried the whole thing is going to break away as I knock on the door and wait.
I haven’t exactly practiced what I’m going to say to Piper.
I know the words will come to me when I need them.
Besides, kicking my new tenant out of her home isn’t a situation I can really ask any friends for guidance on.
Per the advice of a lawyer I contacted, I made a formal written notice to kick off this awkward process.
I scan the words on the sheet I brought along as I wait for her to show up.
There’s a rustle behind the door, and then it swings open. Piper’s head pokes out, her blonde hair damp and hanging heavy around her face. She’s hiding her body behind the door. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Good morning,” I say, wondering if I should smile. Be friendly. Buffer this bad news with a chat about the weather.
“What are you doing here?” Her scowl tells me to get to the point. That’s when I notice the water droplets gathering in the hollow of her neck. They highlight the light freckles I’d loved and lavished attention on during our impossible night.
I can barely keep the words from escaping me. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course I remember you.” Her brows nearly meet in the middle of her face. “You were blocking the sidewalk yesterday for like an entire year. What do you want?”
Everything inside me sighs heavily. She has to be lying. How could she not remember staying up to watch the sunrise on that hotel balcony? The thousands of kisses I’d given her, all over her chest, down her belly, between her legs. But now is not the time to get into it.
“I need to chat with you about a few things.”
“And you think while I’m fresh out of the shower, about to open my shop for the day, is the best time to do this?”
“I don’t know a better time,” I shoot back.
“Why don’t you schedule one?” she asks.
I swallow my annoyance. “Great. What would be a good time for you, Piper?”
“Well…” The expectant pause tells me she doesn’t have a name to insert there.
“You don’t know my name, do you?”
She sniffs, then shrugs.
“You can call me Kru.”
“Kru?” she says, her face scrunching up. “Like…the cabin crew of an airplane?”
I tilt my head, watching as she becomes lost in thought.
“Or maybe it’s like crew cut socks,” she adds. “Crudité? Is it French? No, it must be short for something else. Cruesome? Like the word gruesome, but, you know, you .”
I clear my throat, waiting until she’s good and done with the guessing. But she’s got more.
“Oh wait!” She snaps her fingers. “I know. You’re a chef, right? Your name is Crouton. That’s it. It’s short for crouton. Very on brand, Kru.”
“Are you done?” I ask. I’m amused, but I won’t let her know that.
“Yeah, I guess. Just tell me if I’m right? I feel like one of those is bound to be right.”
“You’re not, though I’m sure it doesn’t come as a surprise. Listen, I have something that needs to be discussed now.” It should have been discussed yesterday, as a matter of fact. “There are some changes you need to be aware of.”
She frowns, and the door opens slightly, revealing the cotton-candy pink towel she’s clutching around her chest. I know what’s under that towel. My fingers curl involuntarily as I try not to stare.
“Oh, great.”
“I don’t know how say this.” My palms are actually sweating and I cross my arms, bolstering myself for the fall out. “There’s no lease on this apartment here and I need it.”
She blinks, nothing registering on her face. “What?”
“I own this apartment now.”
“But I live here,” she says slowly.
“It’s getting renovated along with the space downstairs. It will become my primary residence. You have to move out.”
She blinks a few more times. I feel like I just punched her in the face with this information, so I’m letting her take some time to absorb the blow.
“You can’t kick me out,” she starts.
“I’m not kicking you out. At least not yet.” I offer the paper. “This is a formal written notice just so you know the eviction process will begin if you don’t vacate within two weeks.”
“Eviction process?” Her chest is flushing, along with her cheeks.
She stares up at me with what I can only call a gaze full of loathing before she snatches the paper out of my hands.
“And I’m sorry, did you say I have two weeks to find a new place to live and pack and…
No. You have to be kidding me. You can’t just kick somebody out of their house.
I’ve been living here for three years —”
“Without a lease,” I remind her.
“It was part of the arrangement,” she hisses.
“Unless it’s on paper, it’s not an arrangement, it’s a favor.”
Her face falls, and that look turns into something more sinister. Something tells me I better start looking over my shoulder at night. “That is so fucking rude.”
A little dose of reality can sting. Maybe this will be her lesson in getting everything on paper moving forward.
“Listen. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news here, but whatever arrangement you had with the previous owner is null and void now.
I’m the new owner, and this apartment is going to be renovated for me to occupy.
They’re starting downstairs first, but I can’t knock them too far off schedule. ”
“Whatever happened to thirty days?” she demands.
“You can take thirty days if you want,” I tell her, “but the construction crew is starting before that.”
I’m the automatic jerk in this situation—I know it.
But I need to treat this like the business situation it is, even if it hurts.
I can’t really think of anything else to add that won’t make her hate me more, so I tear myself away from her cotton-candy deliciousness and thump down the staircase.
Before I reach the ground, I hear her exasperated sigh of frustration, followed by the door slamming shut.
Well, that could not have possibly gone worse.
But I’m not sure there was a positive outcome for her in that scenario anyway.
My mind is on fire as I head around to the front of the building.
My side of the building doesn’t have a back entrance—yet—which is another thing Piper is absolutely going to hate once the construction crew starts bringing things up to code.
Our sides of the building are going to have to meet in the back room, which means what is now her territory is officially going to become ours.
Can’t wait for her to learn that little tidbit. But that’s definitely for another day, because we need to let the smoke clear from the bomb I just dropped on her.
The camera crew is just arriving as I unlock the front door.
Pat bounds up to me a moment later, looking too fresh for this hour.
He’s probably used to the insane schedule of reality TV shows.
I’m used to the restaurant grind, which features late nights and not so many six a.m. wakeups, unless we sold out the night before.
But the next month will be balls to the wall, especially with a full production and construction crew on site.
“Morning, Kru. Ready to get this party started?”
“As ready as a casserole at a family function.” It’s not my best food joke, but I’m a little distracted today. We step inside, the musty smell hitting me. It’s almost hard to imagine what this place will look like after the refresh, but I can’t wait.
“That reminds me, we need to make sure we get some of your one-liners today,” Pat says. “You know so many food jokes, is that part of going to chef school?”
“Wasn’t part of the curriculum,” I say. “I’ve got food jokes for days though. I had a joke about pizza, but it was a little cheesy.”
Pat snorts, pulling out his phone. “So let’s make sure I’m up to speed on the schedule…”
“Interior reno crew will be arriving any minute. Pretty sure the plan is to start with dismantling the hideous wood paneling as top priority. Floors should be done by the end of the week with the kitchen equipment arriving next week.”
“Yes, perfect.” Pat is swiping through schedules on his phone. “And we will be on hand to catch it all! We should be rolling soon.”
Kit, one of the camera guys, gives us a thumbs up.
It’s go time. I check my watch—almost eight.
The windows are still covered with brown paper, but I swear I hear the rumble of heavy equipment outside.
I push open the door and spot three commercial vans rolling into the lot, all with the same Cookfield then again, I didn’t exactly show up in a very sexy light here in Bayshore.
“You must be Kru.” A grinning man with a big belly and mischief in his eyes reaches for my hand.
This is Mr. Cookfield himself, and as we exchange hellos and we introduce the construction team and the TV crew, I can feel Piper’s gaze boring through me from her shop.
The tops of my shoulders prickle, and I fight everything inside me, urging me to turn around and verify that I’m right.
I didn’t come here to play games with a cute blonde with a bakery.
I came here to build my brand and my legacy.
I need to remember that, especially when the memories of Piper’s kisses get too loud in my head.
I’ve already learned my lesson when it comes to the type of attraction that makes you dizzy, upends you.
It didn’t just swallow me with my ex—it consumed me from the inside out.
And I’m never going to let that happen again.
Focusing on the job isn’t just a priority for my future. It’s a priority for my reputation. Millions of people will be watching this show, watching me .
And I don’t plan on making a fool of myself on national television.