CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
"Actually," I say, struck by sudden inspiration, "Maverick's coming over to my place tonight to celebrate the restaurant's first two weeks down. You should join us, especially if you don’t have an early morning tomorrow. Take a break, have a drink, relax for real."
She considers this, setting down her paint roller and climbing down the ladder with careful, deliberate movements. I can see she's trying to hide how unsteady she is.
"That sounds nice," she says when she reaches the bottom. "But I should finish this beam first. I'm on such a roll, and if I stop now—"
"The beam will still be here tomorrow," I interrupt.
"But I'm in the zone! This is when the best work happens!"
"The best work happens when you're well-rested and thinking clearly," I counter. "What you're doing right now is dangerous. You're exhausted, you're alone, and you've been using power tools."
"I'm not using power tools right now," she argues, gesturing to the paint roller.
"Even a paint roller is dangerous when you’re sleep deprived. Look, why don't you just come have one drink with us? Then you can get some actual rest."
Her expression shifts, and I can see something defensive creeping in. "I don't need you to manage my schedule, Kru. I'm perfectly capable of deciding when I need rest."
"I'm not trying to manage anything. I'm worried about you."
"Why?" She crosses her arms. "Because I'm working hard? Because I'm dedicated to my project? You do the exact same thing! How many times have you worked until closing and then gone home just to get up again at dawn?"
She has a point, but this feels different somehow. More desperate. More manic.
"That's different," I say. "I'm launching a new business. It's expected that the first few months will be crazy."
"And I'm launching a new business too!" she exclaims, gesturing around the barn. "So why is it okay for you to work yourself into the ground but not me?"
"Because you're—" I stop myself before I can say something I'll regret.
"Because I'm what?" Her voice has a sharp edge now. "Because I'm a woman? Because I'm smaller than you? Because you think I can't handle it?"
"That's not what I was going to say."
"Then what? Because it sure sounds like you think I'm incapable of managing my own project."
I can see Griffin's words echoing in her defensiveness, the way she's interpreting my concern as doubt in her abilities. "Piper, that's not—"
"You know what? Forget it." She turns away from me, starting to gather her painting supplies. "Thanks for the invitation, but I think I'll pass. I have work to do."
"Come on, don't be like this."
"Like what? Like someone who doesn't appreciate being told what to do?" She's shoving brushes into a bucket with more force than necessary. "I'm fine, Kru. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can. I'm just saying—"
"You're just saying I should stop working and come hang out instead. Because apparently my priorities are wrong."
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?" She spins around to face me, paint-streaked and exhausted but still blazing with determination.
"Everyone has an opinion about what I should be doing.
My brothers think I'm taking on too much.
You think I'm working too hard. Well, guess what?
This is my project, my timeline, my decision. "
I hold up my hands in surrender. "Okay. You're right. I'm sorry."
Some of the fight goes out of her, but she's still tense. "I just…I need to do this my way, at my pace. Can you understand that?"
"I can," I say, even though every instinct is telling me she needs to rest. "But promise me you'll go home soon? It's late, and it's cold out here."
"I will," she says, which isn't quite a promise but is better than an argument. "Go have fun with Maverick. Tell him I'm sorry I couldn't make it."
I want to argue more, to insist she come with me or at least let me drive her home. But I can see she's reached her limit for being managed today, and pushing further will only make things worse.
"Text me when you get home?" I ask.
"Yes, chef," she says with a tired smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
I hesitate at the barn door, looking back at her as she climbs back up the ladder. Everything in me wants to stay, to make sure she's okay, but I force myself to leave.
The drive back to my place is short. Maverick's truck is already in my driveway when I pull up, and I can see him through the front window, making himself at home on my couch with a beer. I told him the code to get in so he wouldn’t have to wait in his car.
"There you are," he says when I walk in. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me. Where's the girlfriend? I was looking forward to hanging with her."
"She had to work," I say, grabbing a beer from the fridge and joining him on the couch. "Rain check."
Maverick takes one look at my face and whistles low. "Damn, what happened to your eye?"
"I met Piper's brother," I say dryly.
His grin is immediate and wide. "And I'm guessing he didn't approve of the relationship?"
"That's one way to put it."
"You're lucky it's just a black eye. I was expecting broken bones when you told me you were dating Griff Keegan’s little sister."
We settle into easy conversation, Maverick regaling me with stories from his latest food truck adventures while I try not to think about Piper alone in that barn. But my phone stays silent—no texts, no calls.
"You're distracted," Maverick observes after I miss the punchline of his story entirely.
"Sorry. Just thinking about work stuff."
"Work stuff or girlfriend stuff?"
I take a long pull of my beer. "Both, maybe."
"Want to talk about it?"
Part of me wants to say no. There’s nothing to talk about—at least, I want that to be true. But Maverick's been through his own relationship drama with Scarlett, and he's got a good head for business. Maybe an outside perspective would help.
"She's working herself into the ground," I finally say. "But nobody can tell her anything because she’s been micromanaged her entire life by her brothers. This barn renovation project—she's obsessed with it. Working until midnight, forgetting to eat, pushing herself past exhaustion."
"Sounds familiar," Maverick says pointedly.
"It's different."
"How?"
"It just is." I know I sound defensive, but I can't quite articulate why Piper's work habits worry me more than my own.
"Maybe it's different because you care about her," Maverick suggests. "Makes it harder to watch someone else make the same mistakes as you."
That hits closer to home than I'd like to admit. I frown and then take a pull of my beer, letting his words sink in. "Maybe."
"Or maybe," Maverick continues, "you're seeing what it looks like from the outside when someone you care about disappears into their work."
I lift a brow. "What do you mean?"
"When's the last time you took a real day off? When's the last time you did something that wasn't related to the restaurant?"
"That's different. I'm launching a business."
"And she's launching a business too." Maverick shrugs. "Maybe you're both workaholics, and you just don't like seeing your reflection."
The observation stings. How many nights have I worked until closing then gone home to do inventory or work on menu planning? How many meals have I skipped because I was too focused on perfecting a recipe?
"Speaking of work," Maverick says, either sensing my discomfort or genuinely changing the subject, "what's next for you? You've got this place running smooth already. Most restaurants take months to hit their stride."
"I've got good staff," I say. "And I’m loving it. I think it’s what I was born to do.”
"So what's the next move? Expansion? Franchise opportunities?"
I laugh, but there's something in his tone that makes me pause. "Slow down there, entrepreneur. I've been open for two weeks."
"I'm serious. Have you thought about it? You’re already hitting the top of the charts in the Bayshore competition. That marshmallow addition to the lobster is fantastic. It’s the kind of recipe that can carry this location for decades.
You could probably get backing for a second location pretty easily, especially with the TV show exposure. "
The idea has been percolating in the back of my head. “Maybe," I admit, then I remember the business card Jackie passed along. I fish it out of my pocket, rereading the name. “This restaurant group wants to chat with me about something. Maybe they’re interested in helping me expand.”
"You should look into it," Maverick says. "Strike while the iron's hot, you know? Build an empire."
An empire. The word has a nice ring to it. Multiple restaurants, a recognizable brand, the kind of success that would make my dad proud. I laugh and shake my head.
"What's holding you back?" Maverick asks, noticing my hesitation.
I almost say "nothing," but that would be a lie. What's holding me back is the woman currently painting beams in a barn at midnight. Which is ridiculous. This is a brand-new relationship. Hardly a reason to limit my business growth.
But as I sit there with Maverick, thinking about expansion and empire building, I can't shake the image of Piper swaying on that ladder, exhausted but determined. And I realize that somewhere along the way, her dreams have become tangled up with mine.
"Nothing's holding me back," I finally say. "Just want to make sure this place is solid first."
"Fair enough."
“Also, it’s not lost on me that your suggestion will put me deep into the throes of the workaholic life that I just got on Piper’s case about.”
He cocks a grin and shrugs. “Maybe we’re looking into a three-way mirror here, who knows?”
We laugh, and conversation eventually turns to lighter things. Menu ideas, customer stories, ideas for the future. After he leaves, I sit alone in my living room, nursing my drink and thinking more about the idea of expansion.
Expanding wasn’t necessarily the plan, but romance was never part of the plan either. I came to Bayshore to build something, to honor my father's memory, to establish myself as a serious chef and make a living.
But somehow, without meaning to, I've fallen headfirst into Piper Keegan. And the truth is that if I start expanding restaurants, I won’t have time for anything, much less a girlfriend.
Is that what I want? To be at the start of my career and so invested in someone else's life that it affects my own decisions?
My phone buzzes with a text, and I grab it eagerly, hoping it's Piper saying she's finally headed home.
PIPER: I’m back at Griff’s and falling asleep. I hope you and Maverick had fun.
KRU: We did but I missed you. Get some sleep, Piperton.
I finish my beer and head to bed, but sleep doesn't come easily. Every time I close my eyes, I see Piper on that ladder, paint in her hair, determined to prove herself to people who weren’t even there.
And fuck if I’m not doing the same thing myself.