Harper's Wish

But the apology had its intended effect. Harper relaxed.

“Thank you. I appreciate your saying so.”

“Good. So, now that that’s out of the way...”

Her lips turned down at this.

“...let’s get down to business. I’ve come here to offer you that server’s position you wanted.”

She eyed him studiously, as though trying to determine his motivations. “Why?” she asked.

He took a few steps across the porch, uncomfortable with having to admit the tight spot he was in.

“Because my server who didn’t show up? Apparently, she broke her leg in a motorcycle accident yesterday morning. She was in the ER and was understandably too distracted to phone in that she’d be missing her shift. I just heard from her a bit ago. And of course now she’s out of commission for the rest of the summer.” He drew a breath. “The Anchor may not be the busiest restaurant in the area, but I still can’t manage with only a part-time teenage server and my sous chef filling in occasionally. I need another person.”

He didn’t add that he was hoping business would pick up soon, and if it did—when it did—he’d need a decent server on board. And with the summer season under way and everyone hired on at other restaurants, finding good staff right now was nearly impossible.

“Why me?” Harper asked, as if sensing his reluctance to elaborate on the matter. “I thought we were sworn enemies.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, even enemies can get along if they’re both in a tight spot, right? I need a competent server, and you’ve proved you can keep your cool under pressure. And you need a job. Surely we can work together for a few months?”

She seemed to be considering. “Are you sure you’re not doing this for some sort of revenge? Hire me on and then fire me in another week or something?”

He placed a hand across his heart. “Your distrust wounds me. Besides, you’re giving yourself too much credit. I’m trying to run a restaurant—I don’t have time to be playing petty games of revenge.”

She blushed at this.

“But I will confess that I wouldn’t mind seeing the great Harper Worth scrubbing toilets at the end of the night.” He went on to explain. “You should know that we’re operating with a skeleton crew, and each member of staff is expected to pitch in with various chores on their shift.”

“What sort of chores?” she questioned.

“Why? Are you too proud to do a little cleaning?”

She ground her teeth together, and he felt a happy satisfaction at the sound. He was getting under her skin, and he had to admit—he liked it.

Keeping up the momentum, he asked, “I wondered—what happened that cost you your job as reigning queen of restaurant reviews?”

She winced at the title, and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far. But after a pause, she answered, “I made the mistake of reviewing my boss’s goddaughter’s restaurant...only, I didn’t know their connection at the time.”

“Ah. I take it you were your usual, barb-tongued self?”

She sighed and lowered her voice. “Yes. It’s what I’m known for. Harper Worth, the snide, snarky critic.”

“Don’t forget snobby.”

She glared at him. “Now you sound like my readers.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I thought your adoring fans lapped up your condescension.”

“They used to. But now...they’re saying I’m too harsh, that I never have anything nice to say, there’s no pleasing me.” She made a face. “An audience’s affections are a fickle thing.”

He watched as she moved to the swing and sat down.

“I know what they call me,” she went on. “The harpy. But I’m not a total shrew. I did offer up some nice reviews, after all. What I learned about those nice reviews?” She sat down on the edge of the swing. “Nobody read them. I think the public just enjoys watching others get cut down. Flip through the television channels, and you’ll see plenty of reality TV shows with people spouting opinions even harsher than mine.”

Connor moved closer and leaned one shoulder against the porch post.

“You’ll forgive me if I can’t offer much sympathy for your predicament.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure this feels like justice for a lot of people.”

He didn’t reply. Justice? She’d lost her job. He’d lost his as well, along with a restaurant and all his savings. He didn’t really think it was the same thing. But he couldn’t afford to argue that point right now.

“Well, then, what do you say? Do you want the job or not?”

She looked up at him. “You really drove over here just to offer me a job? With no ulterior motives?”

“Strange as it may seem... I did.” After all, it wasn’t as if they were becoming friends. She was just coming to work for him. He still held the upper hand—as her boss, he’d be calling the shots.

“All right,” she finally agreed. “When can I start?”

She didn’t say so, but he sensed the same desperation in her that he’d been feeling. She needed this job as much as he needed her to start immediately.

“Can you come in this morning, say around ten?”

He noted a flicker of relief in her eyes before she blinked.

“That should be fine.”

“Great. Then, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to be getting back.”

She stood to show him out and they walked back through the cottage to the front door.

She opened the door, and he stepped through.

“Connor?” she said, her voice soft.

He paused.

“I guess I should say...thanks.”

He inclined his head ever so slightly at this and then walked toward his truck.

* * *

HARPER FELT A ripple of nerves as she stepped up to the Rusty Anchor’s door for her first day on the job. The restaurant wasn’t open yet, and the door was locked, so she rapped soundly on the glass and waited. She scanned the docks fronting the building, impressed with the glossy serenity of the bay in the midmorning sunlight. The Anchor might be a bit out of the way, but the view of the water was worth it.

She was watching a pair of ducks floating near the shore when the sound of the door opening jerked her attention back to the restaurant.