Page 24 of Falling With You

I smiled. I loved buffalo wings. And Aiden hated them. Aiden liked adding fancy things to the wings and making them glorious. And I totally agreed with that and liked it. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t razz him about it. But then I remembered he had been hurt because of me, so I didn’t. Instead, I just texted:

Me:Anyway. Have fun. Got to go. Night.

Aiden:You need to talk?

Crap.

Me:I’m fine. Night.

I turned my phone down and turned it over so I wouldn’t have to look at the screen. And then I just shook my head, wondering what was wrong with me. Why was I like this? And why, after all this time, did I still have feelings for him?

I shouldn’t. He wasn’t mine. I needed to remember that.

He wasn’t mine. He had never been mine. And the sooner I got that through my skull, the better for both of us.

Chapter Six

Aiden

“Areyousureyour hand doesn’t hurt?”

I bit back a nasty retort and inhaled deeply through my nose while rolling my shoulders back. I had to remember that despite the kid asking me the samedamn questionevery thirty minutes or so, I was actually enjoying myself.

And lashing out and beating him senseless for worrying about me wouldn’t be productive.

I swear to God, I sound like Brendon right now.

“I’m fine.” I held up my injured hand and shook the cast in the air as the hustle and bustle of the kitchen around us kept moving. “I’m not even using it. You’re the one doing all the chopping and slicing.” I narrowed my eyes. “And the more you ask me about it, the slower you are at prepping for tonight’s meal.” I sing-songed the last part, and Dillon winced before going back to slicing up onions.

I didn’t usually do all the prep like this since I had staff to do some of that for me before I even showed up. But I had peeled my fair share of potatoes in my day, sliced onions, peppers, and other assorted vegetables and fruits.

Food prep had been where I started, even before I had gone to dish duty. I had started in food prep at the house and then had found a dishwashing position when I was sixteen. That had led to other jobs.

Dillon was working on prep today, while I was showing him the ropes. Yeah, it was pretty much nepotism at this point, but we weren’t in a five-star restaurant, we were in a bar that I owned. The three other cooks that I had working in and out of the kitchen didn’t care. The kid helping out meant they didn’t have to do prep. My sous chef had stepped up into my position, and I was doing a little bit of everything where I could. Plus, they all liked Dillon.

I didn’t know if they actually liked me, but I really didn’t care.

They just had to listen to me and deal with the fact that, yeah, I changed the menu often. There were some staples, but then there were things I liked to add.

We were a bar, but we weren’t the bar we used to be.

The brewery we used to be had been failing. There were too many just like us, and it didn’t matter that we had the family history and the fact that Jack and Rose had made this place so great.

Things had changed, and so we’d had to change with them. We hadn’t taken away what Jack and Rose had done to make it special, but we had added a few things.

Like my tapas.

And my daily, weekly, and seasonal menus.

It had taken a couple of months, but the people in the kitchen had finally started having fun with it. And that meant I didn’t have to yell as much.

Even though I kind of liked yelling.

“Okay, so what are these onions going in again?”

“We’re mincing them, so they’re going in a lot of things. In a base for our sauces, we’re going to sauté them for a few things, and part of this is going in the salsa that we’re making for the nachos. Everything’s fresh here, nothing pre-chopped or canned.”

“Wait, some people just open up a jar of salsa at a restaurant?”