CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
K RU
It's been three days since the Keegan brother gauntlet, and I haven't seen Piper once.
Not that I haven't tried. I've made excuses to check the shared storage room at least a dozen times, hoping to catch her coming or going. I've lingered by the front windows of my restaurant during her busy morning rush, telling myself I'm just observing foot traffic patterns. I even walked past Cloud Nine on my way to the bank yesterday, but Jerrica was working the counter and Piper was nowhere to be seen. I’m ready to make a surprise visit to Griffin’s house, or even her Mom’s house, but I think that might earn me another black eye if I try.
Still worth it to figure out what the hell is going on with Piper.
The barn has been dark every night. No late-night renovation sessions, no industrial work lights casting shadows across the parking lot. Either she's taking a break from the project, or she's avoiding the one place she knows I might look for her.
I'm betting on the latter.
"Chef, table six is asking about wine pairings for the lobster special," Jackie says, pulling me out of my brooding.
"Tell them the Chardonnay," I say absently, plating another order. "The one from Oregon."
"Already did. They want something different."
I look up from the plate I'm working on, realizing I've been on autopilot for the past hour. The lunch service has been steady but not overwhelming, which means I have too much time to think. Too much time to replay Wednesday night over and over in my head.
The way Piper's face shuttered when I mentioned Columbus. The hurt in her voice when she asked if my plan was to leave Bayshore. The careful distance that had blossomed between us, polite but rooted.
I fucked up. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth, but I'd been so focused on not making things worse with her brothers that I'd made things worse with her instead.
"The Sauvignon Blanc then," I tell Jackie. "The one with the citrus notes."
She nods and heads back to the dining room. I finish plating the order and slide it toward Rafael, then check my phone for the hundredth time today. No messages from Piper.
I texted her Thursday morning, a simple Hope you're doing okay , but got no response. Friday I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. By now, I've gotten the message loud and clear: she needs space.
The problem is, I don't know if that space is temporary or permanent.
"Order up," I call, sliding two more plates toward Rafael.
Jackie appears at my elbow. "Hey, chef? That investor guy is here again. Table twelve."
I glance through the kitchen doors toward the dining room. Sure enough, Tyler Webb is sitting at table twelve, the same table he'd occupied last week when he'd first approached me about Columbus. Tall, silver-haired, expensive suit that screams success.
"He's not supposed to meet with me until Tuesday," I mutter.
"He said he was just grabbing lunch." Jackie shrugs. "But it seems like he wants to talk."
I wipe my hands on my apron, considering how this conversation might go.
Part of me wants to ignore him, to focus on the lunch service and pretend Columbus doesn't exist. But another part—the practical, business-minded part—knows I should at least hear what he has to say. The truth is that I feel like I have my hands full right now. I’m happy with what’s happening in Bayshore.
But maybe I need to be more aggressive while I’m young.
Maybe I need to leave my comfort zone.
"Take over for a few minutes," I tell Brady. "I'll be right back."
I hang up my apron then make my way through the dining room, nodding at familiar customers as I pass. Tyler looks up as I approach, his face breaking into that practiced investor smile.
"Kru! Hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced. I was in the area and couldn't resist trying that lobster special again."
"A lover of food is always welcome here," I say, sliding into the chair across from him. "How is it?"
"Perfection, as always. The nutmeg marshmallow is to die for." He takes another bite, then sets down his fork. "Actually, I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to give you a heads up about Tuesday's meeting."
"Oh?"
"The group is very excited about this opportunity. Very excited." His eyes gleam with the fervor of someone who smells money. "We're prepared to make you an offer that I think you'll find difficult to refuse."
My stomach does a weird flip. "What kind of offer?"
"Your reputation precedes you. Between this menu, the quality of the food you create, and the fame you’ve built in the restaurant world from the reality TV show, a few of my partners have agreed to fast track this endeavor.”
“Fast track?”
“Full funding for the Columbus location buildout. We're talking about a flagship restaurant in the Short North district—prime real estate, built-in customer base. We’re taking away the risk so you can get up and profitable practically instantly."
It's everything I should want. Everything I came to Bayshore to build toward, happening faster than I'd dreamed.
So why does it feel like a trap?
"That's…generous," I say carefully.
"We believe in your concept. And frankly, we think you're wasted in a small town like this." Tyler gestures around the dining room, which is nearly full even on a Monday afternoon. "Don't get me wrong, you’re doing well here. But Columbus? That's where you could really make your mark."
Make your mark. The phrase echoes in my head. Isn't that what I came here to do? Honor my dad's memory by building something significant?
"What would the timeline look like?" I ask.
"Fast. We'd want you in Columbus by the new year, ready to open by March. We've already identified the perfect space; it just needs your touch. That’s the place we’ll look at on Tuesday."
Less than three months. Was that enough time to train up a full crew that could operate without me? Besides, that means I’d have to leave Bayshore.
Leave the restaurant I've just opened. Leave the community that's starting to feel like home.
Leave Piper.
"I know it seems quick," Tyler continues. "But in this business, you have to move fast. Your reality show buzz won't last forever, and that’s the best time to have your restaurant open in the capital of Ohio, coinciding with the reality show premiere."
He's right about that. The show is set to air in a few months, and there’s no better buzz than at the beginning. This could be my one shot at real expansion, real success. Everything he’s saying is so reasonable and exciting.
So why am I not jumping at the chance?
"I'll need to think about it," I say finally.
"Of course. But don't think too long." Tyler's smile turns slightly predatory. "Opportunities like this don't come around often."
He finishes his lunch and leaves, promising to see me Tuesday.
I head back to the kitchen, pausing to peer through the window into the dining room.
A few customers are taking pictures of their food, probably posting to social media.
A couple at the corner table is sharing Piper’s s'mores dessert, which I’ve started ordering weekly from her.
This is what I built. This warmth, this community feeling. It's exactly what I wanted when I came to Bayshore.
But it's also small. Limited. Columbus would be bigger in every way—more customers, more revenue, more recognition.
More distance from the complications of dating your tenant.
I shake my head, standing up. I'm not making this decision because of Piper. I can't. This has to be about business, about my future, about honoring my dad's legacy in the best way possible.
Even if the thought of leaving makes my chest feel tight.
I catch a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair through the front window. My heart does a stupid leap before I realize it's not Piper—just a customer with similar coloring.
I've been looking for her in every face, listening for her laugh in every conversation. Wednesday night had created distance between us, but it hadn't erased the connection. Not for me.
The question is whether it has for her.
Back in the kitchen, Brady updates me on the orders that came in while I was gone. We fall into the familiar rhythm of lunch service, and my mind returns to wandering. To Columbus, to the choice I'm going to have to make.
And to Piper, working alone in her shop just a few hundred feet away, probably wondering if I've already made up my mind to leave.
The truth is, a month ago my path seemed clear: build the restaurant, honor Dad's memory, expand when the right opportunity came along.
Now everything feels muddled, complicated by feelings I wasn't supposed to develop and a relationship that was supposed to stay simple.
Maybe Tyler is right. Maybe I need to get back to basics, focus on the business, make the smart choice rather than the emotional one.
But as I plate another order and call out "Order up," I can't shake the feeling that the smart choice and the right choice might be two different things.
And I have no idea how to tell the difference.
As the day goes on, I’m stuck in a constant Piper loop in my head.
It’s killing me that she’s gone radio silent.
I poke my head into Cloud Nine two more times, but no Piper to be seen – just Jerrica.
After a pummeling dinner service, I’m more than ready to head home and relax for the next day or two.
As much as a small business owner can relax on off days, at least.
After saying goodbye to the crew, I lock up the restaurant and step into the cool October night. At the other end of the lot, the barn is glowing.
My heart twists in my chest. It's damn near midnight, and I’m a little worried about what I might find in there.
As I get closer, I hear music again—this time, a thumping electronic beat. I slide the door open just enough to peer inside.