Page 5 of Lavender and Lust
Owen Parker.
Our head chef at Scott’s Diner and the only person on the face of this planet that I would voluntarily do prison time for just so I could ensure he meets his timely demise.
Unfortunately for me, my beloved town doesn’t share the same sentiment.
They love the idiot.
So much so that I’m surprised they haven’t carved a statue of him and showcased it in the town’s sculpture garden in honor of his lordship. And to make matters worse, my own father, my own flesh and blood, thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread and treats him like the son he never had.
So when Owen returned a year ago, having quit his job at some fancy restaurant in Chicago and asked my father for a job, he practically rolled out the red carpet. And if it wasn’t bad enough that I was forced to work with him during summer break from college, now I’m permanently stuck working with the guy who was a constant thorn in my side all through high school.
The most popular guy in school and quarterback for the football team, Owen Parker, was labeled a hero when he led the team to victory two years in a row and has been the shining star of this town ever since.
Whereas me? I was nothing more than your typical wallflower. The shy, nerdy girl who preferred a good book or sci-fi movie over pep rallies and wild high school parties any day. But to be truthfully honest, I was okay with that.
With my best friend Lexi and a few other like-minded friends by my side, I was content to just fade into the background and go about my day in a peaceful existence.
But apparently, Owen didn’t like that at all.
So much so, in fact, that he insisted on shining the spotlight on me every damn day.
There wasn’t a single morning that he didn’t make a point of bellowing out my name in the halls. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he also insisted on sitting next to me in math just so he could poke me with his pencil.
And don’t even get me started on that stunt he pulled by asking me to dance at prom. The prick even had the gall to look disappointed when I turned him down. But there was no way I was falling for whatever stupid prank he had in store, and I can only imagine what devious plans he had conjured up in that pea-brained head of his. My guess was that it was along the lines of doing some kind of reenactment ofCarrie,which had included me as the leading star of the show.
Placing my hands on my hips, I pin him with my most lethal of glares, wishing I had the ability to conjure up fireballs and shoot them at his smug ass. “For your information, I’m not late, and how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Mac?”
Nobody calls me Mac because everyone in town knows how much I hate it. But that is precisely why he does it, and it’s just one of the many things on my mile-long list of reasons why I hate Owen Parker.
Casting me a sideways glance, his emerald-green eyes sparkle with mischief as he casually flips the pancakes on the stove before turning to give me his full attention. “Well, let’s see,” he hums thoughtfully and leisurely taps a finger on his chin. “I think three hundred and twenty million times should do it.”
“Oh, aren’t you a comedian?” I bite back sarcastically.
“Always happy to entertain you…Mac.” He emphasizes the last part and flashes me a sly wink that makes my belly flip.
As if his mere presence isn’t annoying enough, he just had to go and be totally gorgeous, didn’t he?
With his tousled brown hair, striking green eyes, and tall, muscular physique, he had just about every girl in high school tripping over themselves just to be captured in his line of sight.
I’d hoped and prayed that the years would be hard on him, perhaps replacing his trim waist with a tire fit for a Mack truck.
But no, the man has gone and aged like the finest of wines.
The lean adolescent frame he once had has grown and filled out in all the right places, making his shoulders broader, chest wider, and muscular arms more defined. A couple of days’ worth of growth line his chiseled jawline, the only evidence on his face that his teenage years are long gone, and he is now a fully grown man. And I couldn’t count on my hand the number of times I’d been tempted to slap his face just so I could feel the growth of his male virility under the palm of my hand.
A smug grin forms on his face upon noticing my perusal of him, and I mentally slap myself out of my stupor, I skewer him with a scathing look.
“Ugh, whatever, I don’t have time for this,” I snap, turning my back to him and making quick work of tying my apron strings around my waist.
As I’m securing the knot, the sound of a familiar song suddenly blasts through the kitchen, instantly locking my body up tight and making goose bumps erupt along my skin. And unfortunately, it’s not the beloved Katy Perry that’s currently belting out the lyrics to ‘I Kissed A Girl’ with the enthusiasm of a church choir gone wild.
No.
It’s my off-key nasally screeching, which closely resembles the sound of a feral cat being forced to take a bath, that’s currently blasting at full volume for the entire world to hear. And for about the millionth time this year, I’m ready to commit murder.
CHAPTER2
MACKENZIE