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Connor felt a guilty tug. Molly didn’t get to have friends over that often. It was hard enough to keep an eye on his daughter while running the restaurant; he could never manage two children while working. And what little free time he did have, he liked to keep for just the two of them. He worried that he didn’t spend enough time with her as it was.
“Ah, not today, love. But maybe on Monday, when the restaurant’s closed. You can show off the place, yeah? Don’t forget, you have a job here, too, after all.”
This reminder elicited a grin, and Connor noted the tiny gap where one of her baby teeth had come out last week. His little girl was growing up.
“Official taste tester,” she proudly proclaimed.
“That’s right.”
Molly beamed, and Connor leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead. “Now, go on and get your backpack while I finish clearing the table.”
Connor stood, watching his daughter skip from the room and feeling his chest tighten at the sight. She was growing up so fast. In a few more years, he feared he’d be completely out of his depth with her. He and his sister, Rory, had been close growing up, especially after their father had moved them from Ireland to the States. His own mother had died in his birth country, and the lack of a maternal influence in his life left him feeling extremely unqualified to raise a little girl on his own.
Just then, his cell phone vibrated, and he tugged it from his pocket to check the caller ID. He frowned at the number that appeared on the screen and then answered, trying to curb some of his irritation.
“I wondered if you ever planned to call me back.”
* * *
HARPER ROLLED OUT of bed in time to say goodbye before Tessa headed off to work and then poured a large mug of coffee as she heard her sister pulling out of the drive. She dosed her java with creamer and took a sip to fortify herself for the day ahead. She’d been up late the night before, searching the local classifieds for job openings. The listings were slim, but she’d found an ad for a pet-store clerk and another for a cashier at the local supermarket. She planned to shower and dress and then head out to drop off some résumés.
She sat at the kitchen table and scrolled through the emails on her phone, deleting the junk mail and archiving the personal ones for later. She was halfway through her mug of coffee and her in-box when the doorbell rang.
Straightening, she felt a wave of annoyance. Who could that be first thing in the morning? Surely all of Tessa’s acquaintances were at work or knew she was. And Harper had only been in town forty-eight hours—she couldn’t imagine anyone would be coming to see her. She ran a hand through her hair, knowing it must be standing on end. She hadn’t even bothered to look in the mirror yet this morning.
She was debating whether to run to the bathroom to at least pull a brush through her tangles when an impatient knock sounded on the door. She grumbled “where’s the fire?” beneath her breath and then tugged at her nightshirt and sleep shorts, wishing she’d brought a robe downstairs with her.
She opened the door and almost shut it again.
Connor Callahan was standing on the cottage doorstep.
* * *
CONNOR BLINKED AT the sight of Harper, hair mussed from sleep and dressed in a modest T-shirt and pajama shorts, as she stared at him from inside the cottage doorway.
He experienced a mixture of relief and embarrassment. “Oh, good, it’s the right house. You didn’t leave an address, so I had to go off your description from our conversation yesterday.”
Harper was still staring. “It’s you,” she stated.
“Aye.” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “It’s me.”
He was somewhat prepared to have the door slammed in his face, after the way they’d parted the day before. But to Harper’s credit, she seemed more baffled than angry.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I wondered if we could...talk.”
“Talk?” She shook her head. “Look, if you came here to chew me out again about that review, I’d really rather skip it. I’m still looking for work, and I’d rather not start my day with a reprimand about how I ruined you.”
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I came to offer you a job.”
It was gratifying to see how her mouth sagged open. Seconds later, her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.
“Are you messing with me? Because if so, I swear—”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not messing with you. I’m serious. Look, can we talk or are you not interested? Because if you’re not, I don’t have any time to waste. I need to find another server.”
This statement made her reconsider. “Well...if you’re serious...then why don’t you come inside?”
She stepped out of the way and gestured for him to enter the cottage. He moved inside, and she shut the door behind him.
She seemed to recall her manners. “There’s coffee brewed. Would you like a cup?”
He nodded, and she led the way into the kitchen, pulling a mug from the cupboard and setting it on the counter.
“There’s creamer in the fridge and sugar on the table. I’m just going to head upstairs for a minute and change. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
While Harper disappeared to make herself more presentable, Connor poured a mug of coffee and added a pinch of sugar. He didn’t want to be nosy and roam around the house so he sat down at the kitchen table and nursed the hot brew as he waited for Harper to return. He let his eyes travel over the tidy room with its weathered white cabinets and pale blue doors. A driftwood rack hung on the wall from sturdy hooks and held various copper pans and utensils, along with ceramic mugs and jars with bold navy-and-white stripes. The room was a cozy blend of vintage and modern. It left him curious, not only about Harper but about the sister she’d mentioned and the grandmother who had owned this place before passing on.
He was admiring the butcher-block counter on the kitchen island when Harper finally reentered the kitchen, dressed in capris and a short-sleeved shirt with her hair neatly brushed and pinned behind her head. She looked much more poised and confident, but he found he rather missed the adorably disheveled woman who had answered the door.
“It’s a nice morning,” she remarked as he rose to his feet at her entrance. “Why don’t we talk out on the back porch?”
She grabbed her coffee mug off the table, leading the way through the hall and out the patio door. Connor followed. She gestured toward the porch swing, which looked to be the only seat available. He settled himself on it, holding his mug in one hand and stretching his legs out before him.
Harper eyed the remaining space on the swing and must have decided it was too close. She leaned against the nearby porch railing instead, and he felt a ripple of amusement and a strange disappointment at the distance she placed between them.
“Contrary to the impression our conversation yesterday likely created, I don’t really bite, you know,” he remarked.
She appeared flustered by this and placed her coffee mug on the porch rail before crossing her arms over her midsection. She cleared her throat.
“Does that mean you came to apologize?”
“Apologize?” He straightened abruptly, and a few droplets of coffee sloshed onto his hand. He placed the mug on the porch floor and wiped his hand across his pants. “Why should I apologize?”
Her lips tightened into a thin line, and he couldn’t help thinking how cute her mouth would be, full and kissable, if she stopped grimacing like that.
“Because you practically kicked me out of your restaurant yesterday,” she protested.
“And you deserved it,” he shot back.
She spluttered. “Deserved it? I helped you through that lunch rush, free of charge—”
He held up a hand. “All right, all right. You have a point,” he grudgingly conceded. Besides, arguing with her wasn’t going to benefit either of them at the moment.
He stood and she backed up slightly. The sight made him frown. “Look, I’m sorry. You did me a good turn yesterday, and I appreciate it.” Saying the words aloud choked him a bit. It was difficult to humble himself where Harper Worth was concerned.
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.
