Authors: Natalie Frost
Cade didn’t even flinch. He said something else, tilted his hat, and then swaggered out of the restaurant.
Her father watched him leave, his expression contorted with annoyance.
Dana’s frown deepened. Peripheral vision noticing the order Lisa had left; she forced herself to look it over rather than go question her father. Though a dreadful kind of curiosity plagued her, the Bar and Grill must always come first; it was her family legacy—her home, after all.
Order read and mostly memorized, Dana backed away from the window and went to work.
As evening faded into night and the restaurant’s chaos slowed and quieted, Dana dared to exit the kitchen to see her parents behind the front counter. They were leaning against the back wall, her father’s arms crossed and her mother’s hands on her hips.
“I’m still pissed,” her father said. He shook his head and huffed. “It’s an insult to ignore somebody like that.” His eyes rose to Dana’s as she approached him. “Hey, darling. How has your day been going?”
“Who was that guy from earlier?” she asked instead of answering. “The guy overcompensating with the giant white hat?”
Her father snorted, his lips tilted upward. “That was Cade Major, son of the supposedly legendary Michael Major, who sells millions of bottles of that fancy barbecue sauce of his.”
Olie Ol’ Barbecue Sauce. It was said to be a family recipe, though it tasted generic to Dana.
She furrowed her brow. “Okay.”
“He called me a few days to ask if I would be interested in selling our place here,” he said, glancing around the Bar and Grill. “Some scouts of that company saw how popular we are in a little town, so they think that they can make it popular all over the world.” He huffed. “I said ‘no,’ of course. Don’t want that kind of attention. Never have, never will.
“He clearly didn’t like that answer, so he came here to try and persuade me to think differently.”
Her mother bristled. “The rich never understand the value of home or simplicity. I don’t know how they handle all that stress of being all over the place.” She shrugged.
“And they want to expand even more,” her father said. “Greedy, is what it is.”
Dana raised her eyebrows. In theory, selling the place to make even more money did sound enticing, but at the cost of home? Of peace? It twisted her heart. Perhaps it was foolish, but she was glad that her parents felt the same as she did. Someday, this place would belong to her, after all. She smiled fondly at the thought.
“Dana?” her mother asked, waving a hand in front of Dana’s face. “We lost her again, pa.”
“She’s a dreamer,” her father said proudly. “It’s in her blood.”
Torn out of her thoughts, Dana smirked at them. Having gained her answers—and a sense of reassurance from them—she said, “I’ll head back in the kitchen. Get some more cleaning done.”
“That’s my girl,” her father said.
The rest of the night continued on as normal. The Bar and Grill eventually emptied out, the employees cleaned what needed to be cleaned, and Dana was the one left alone to close up. It was routine, it was calming, and she had never felt more content in her life.
Her parents, during her college years, had encouraged her to explore other avenues of life—to not be “trapped” by the family business. But she had never been trapped. Or if she was, she was happy to be so.
Dana walked around the Bar and Grill once last time in search of any messes that could have gone missed. She flicked off lights during the short trip, and then she exited the Abel’s Bar and Grill. The hot air injected itself into every one of her pores.
Kansas summers.
Sighing, she turned and locked the doors before heading toward her car in the side-parking lot.
“Miss Abel, I presume?”
Dana shrieked and spun around, nearly tripping over herself as she did so. She held out her car key in preparation to attack—not that she had ever done so, but she was told a car key could be quite a useful weapon.
The man moved out of the shadow of the Bar and Grill and took off his giant hat.
Dana blinked owlishly, her breathing coming out in harsh pants. “Cade Major? What the hell?”
Delight flashed in his eyes. “You’ve heard of me,” he drawled.
“You’ve been bothering my family, so yes, I’ve heard of you.” She crossed her arms and continued onward toward her car. “Goodnight.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Cade said, jogging over until he was walking right beside her. “Hear me out for a second.”
“No.”
“Your family would still run the place; it would just have a different owner’s name on the lease. That’s it! I don’t see how that is such a huge problem with you folks.”
“No one is giving away our restaurant, and that is that. Now back off.” She walked faster until she reached her car door, her hand all but jamming her key into the lock. “I am going home, and you should go home, too. This is our place and we are not selling it.”
“You’re not really listening to what I have to say, darling.”
She got into the car and locked the doors. Then, as quickly as she could without actually hitting the guy, she backed out of the parking space and drove off.
Cade was seen in her rearview mirror. He leaned back on his haunches, his head tilted to the side like he was a curious cat.
Frustrated, Dana frowned at the sight. He had had the southern accent, though not quite the southern charm. Still, he was trying too hard—the stench of a salesman all over him and his words.
Dana returned her attention to the road ahead of her. She calmed down considerably on the way to her flat, and concerns over Cade were quick to fade away.
CHAPTER TWO
She had foolishly hoped that night would be the last time they had to deal with Cade, but the man proved to be persistent—if not intrusive.
He came in Abel’s Bar and Grill almost every day for the following two weeks. He would come up to the front counter and chat with her father before going over to the side counter where people could sit and drink their alcoholic beverages.
It frustrated Dana that this had become some twisted kind of routine, but her father explained that the man kept paying for the most expensive drinks and the most expensive meals. Annoying or not, he had become one of their best customers.
Then one day, while sitting at the side counter, Cade turned his attention to Dana—through the little kitchen window that she tried to hide underneath.
“You do all the cooking?” he called over to her.
Dana pushed a few plates of food through the window, her gaze shifting to him. Suspicion clawed at her chest. “What’s it to you?”
“Curiosity,” he said with a grin. He was no longer wearing that massive hat of his, his dark and messy hair giving him a rugged look—which Dana refused to find attractive on an intellectual level, even as her libido betrayed her every time he winked at her. “You like what you do here? Cooking all day?”
It was a trap, no doubt. She would answer him, and then he would twist her words into some kind of sales pitch. She should have ignored him. A part of her truly wanted to ignore him.
But that smug grin—like he knew what she was going to say and why she was going to say it. It tore at her pride in a way she could not allow.
“This is my home,” she said. She did her best to angle her head to the side as Lisa took the plates and placed them on a tray. Dana barely managed to keep eye contact with Cade. “I learned to cook here—learned to appreciate family and friends here. I learned how food could be artwork and how satisfying it feels to create something that others appreciate.
“I want to continue my parents’ legacy with this place, and that means keeping the Abel’s name on the lease.
“So yes, I like working here. I like cooking all day.”
Cade’s eyebrows rose, his eyes full of emotions that Dana couldn’t quite identify. His mouth hung ajar for a second before he snapped it shut.
And then her mother sped up to the little window, read out a new order, and put the order on the metal wheel before spinning it.
But once again, Dana struggled to tear her focus away from Cade. Damn her, but curiosity had returned in fold. In the short time she had seen and interacted with him, he had never looked as vulnerable as he did in that moment. If only she knew the cause of it—what specific words she had spoken to elicit such a reaction?
“Dana,” her mother said, snapping her fingers. “Focus, sweetheart. We got a lot more orders coming.”
Dana shook her head and looked at the order her mother had placed on the wheel. Occasionally, she would glance over at Cade.
He did not stare back at her.
Cade remained for the entire day rather than for just one very long meal. As it became later—the Bar and Grill growing quiet—he told Dana, “I have never cared so much about anything as much as you all care about this place. I’ve only been sitting here and I feel trapped. You’ve actually been working all this time, and you…you seem happy. I admire that. Hell, I envy it.”
Dana looked at him through that tiny window. Her heart twisted at the sight of Cade, his eyes flitting over every speck on the counter. He looked tired. Worn.
Her father walked up to him and waved his hand out. “Would you just get going already? It’s nearly closing time, and once again, my answer to your offer is ‘no.’ And it will always be ‘no.’ So how about being a decent guy for once and leave us alone?”
Cade nodded. He grabbed his hat from the back of his chair, put it on, and then spun around before standing and walking away. A crisp twenty dollar bill was left beside his plate of half-finished appetizers.
Dana winced. As frustrating as Cade Major was, he didn’t seem all that bad. Though perhaps that was an act in itself—the sad look, the sad comment, trudging out of here like he was a three-legged puppy with nowhere to go. He could be pretending to be this way simply to tug at her heartstrings and make her go running to him instead of the other way around.
For a second, she had decided that she would remain where she was and not give into his games.
But then she considered the possibility that it wasn’t an act and Cade really was depressed, and alone.
Dana frowned, her determination shattering.
Damn it.
She exited the kitchen—telling her mother she was taking a quick break and that someone needed to cover her. Her parents questioned her, but Dana quickened her step and exited the restaurant rather than confess her current goal.
Cade was sitting on the curb, the soft orange light from the windows cascading over him. He pouted at the ground, his gaze distant.
“Are you pouting because you aren’t getting your way?” she blurted, nearly reeling at how loud her voice sounded amidst the silent atmosphere.
Cade jumped and turned to her. “Yes,” he said with an amused smirk. He blew out a tired sigh. “That’s what I typically do after defeat. And during introspection.”
“Re-thinking some life choices?”
“Yes.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and tilted his hat back. “Are you out here to interrogate me? Because I can leave if you want me to.”
“We’ve wanted you to leave for weeks.”
He snorted, looking away. “That’s fair.”
And yet he remained sitting where he was.
“I didn’t even want this job,” he said, elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the parked cars, a rueful smile on his lips. “But dad’s always big on ‘earning’ things rather than simply ‘inheriting’ things. And then wasting said ‘inherited’ things on world travel and parties.” He hummed, clearly nostalgic. “Those were the days.”
Astounded, she furrowed her brow. “You’re…complaining because you have to work?”
“Of course. Working is terrible. I have no idea how you and your family can be so passionate about it. It’s misery incarnate.”
“It’s satisfying,” she said. “When you earn something, it is truly yours. No one can take it back from you. Not legally, anyway. And there is pride in hard work, too.”
Cade groaned. “Uh, hard work is even worse than regular work.” He leaned his head back so that he could stare at her. “You should try being rich some time. It’s amazing.”
She huffed, smiling. “I’m sure it is.”
“Up until the moment it is taken away from you. Yes, it certainly is. You can pretty much do what you want, when you want. There is no need to worry about survival and bills every single day. How other people stand that is beyond me. I’m getting a headache just trying to picture it now.”