Reluctant Desires

Chapter3

Fiona’s POV

The morning started on a high note.

The sun filtered through my curtains, golden and promising, setting the perfect tone for the day. I stretched lazily before rolling out of bed, shaking off the lingering annoyance from last night’s rejection email. Some high-profile supply chain firm Amy had forced me to apply to. I hadn’t even wanted the job in the first place, but seeing that email still left a sour taste in my mouth.

Still, today was a new day.

I made my way to the kitchen, where Finette, my eleven-year-old sister, was already bickering with Amy. Their banter was my morning entertainment, like a live sitcom I didn’t have to subscribe to.

“You burnt the toast, Amy,” Finette accused, holding up a charred piece of bread with a look of pure betrayal.

Amy scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. “That’s gourmet charcoal toast, young one. Only the elite appreciate it.”

“Well, I guess I’m happy being basic because this is inedible.” Finette tossed it in the bin with no hesitation.

I burst into laughter, grabbing my own plate and settling down. “Amy, maybe we should leave the kitchen duties to Finette. She’s clearly the only competent one here.”

Amy shot me a mock glare before dramatically sighing. “Y’all don’t appreciate my artistry.”

Breakfast was full of small jabs and inside jokes, the perfect distraction from real-life stress.

****

After dropping Finette off at school, I settled down to work on my crochet orders. The living room was my workspace—yarns, needles, and half-finished projects spread across the couch. Across from me, Amy was glued to her laptop, doing God knows what.

“What are you even working on?” I asked, stretching my legs.

She didn’t even glance up. “Magic. Tech magic. You wouldn’t get it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because coding is some secret wizardry.”

Amy smirked but didn’t argue.

I was halfway through a new design when a thought struck me. “Oh! Amy, isn’t your mom still short-staffed at the restaurant?”

Amy finally looked up, rubbing her temples. “Yeah. She’s still interviewing, but every candidate has been... problematic.”

“Problematic?”

Amy gave me a deadpan look. “Let’s just say, one of them thought ‘customer service’ included flashing diners.”

I nearly choked on air. “You’re lying.”

Amy grinned. “I wish I was. My mom almost had a heart attack.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “We should help her out today.”

Amy groaned. “Fiona, do you know how much work I have to do? I have deadlines.”

I pouted. “Oh, so you’re the one always lecturing me about ‘leaving the house’ and ‘meeting people,’ but when I finally suggest it, you suddenly can’t go?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s different.”

I turned up the dramatics, even adding the classic puppy-dog eyes. “Amy… You’re abandoning me in my time of need.”

She let out an exasperated groan. “I hate you.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“I’m only going because I love a change of scenery. Not you.”

Victory.

Before heading out, I packed up some finished crochet pieces for the restaurant—customized blinds, table mats, and the knitted neon-lit “Welcome” sign. Every piece I had made with love, and Loveth had always tried (and failed) to pay me for them. The drive to the restaurant was lively, Amy and I belting out Unstoppable by Sia and cracking jokes about her latest hookup.

“For someone who lectures me about dating, you really don’t have the best track record yourself.” I teased.

Amy scoffed. “It’s called exploring. And unlike you, I’m actively living my life.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Living your life or collecting bad dating experiences?”

She waved me off. “This one is actually decent. But it’s just a friends-with-benefits thing.”

I smirked. “And let me guess… He already likes you?”

Amy stayed silent for a moment too long.

I cackled. “Called it.”

By the time we arrived, the scent of rich, flavorful cooking wafted through the air. The moment I stepped in, I knew Loveth was in the kitchen. That woman’s cooking was unreal.

Loveth spotted us and immediately broke into a wide smile. “My babies are here!”

I melted into her warm embrace while Amy dramatically pouted. “Are you sure I’m your actual daughter? Because the favoritism is real.”

I smirked at her over Loveth's shoulder, whispering, “That’s for making me apply for that stupid job.”

Loveth pulled away, assessing me. “You’re looking thinner. Are you eating well?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Mum, please, Fiona eats like she has five stomachs.”

Ignoring her, Laura turned to me. “And men? Any potential son-in-laws I should know about?”

I groaned. “Loveth, no.”

Amy snickered. “That’s a touchy subject.”

Loveth gave me a knowing look but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned to the bag I was holding.

I pulled out the crochet pieces, and her face softened. “Fiona, we’ve talked about this. You should be paid.”

I waved her off. “It’s my way of helping. Besides, you’ve done so much for Finette and me. This is nothing.”

She sighed, shaking her head, but her smile gave her away.

After setting everything up, Amy found her usual spot—behind the counter with her laptop. I, however, helped Laura in the kitchen, chatting and catching up.

Lunch hour was madness!!

Amy and I took turns serving customers, balancing plates and drinks like seasoned waitresses. I was so caught up in the rush that I barely noticed when the restaurant started quieting down.

And then the door opened.

Two men walked in.

Gorgeous men.

Amy and I were behind the counter, which gave us the perfect hidden vantage point. I took a second to assess them—one was well-built, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and the other, leaner but still just as striking. Amy exhaled dramatically. “Lord have mercy.” I smacked the back of her head. “Behave.”

“I’m just appreciating the Lord’s creation.”

I ignored her and took in their body language. The bulkier one—who I now mentally labeled Mr. Stoic—was surveying the restaurant with a critical eye before picking a private corner.

“A man who values his privacy,” I muttered.

Amy wiggled her brows. “I’ll serve them.”

I shot her a look. “Absolutely not. You’ll flirt and make them uncomfortable.”

She grinned. “That’s the plan.”

I grabbed the notepad before she could and walked over to them.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome.” I greeted with my usual warm smile, placing two glasses of water before them.

The leaner one smiled back, polite. But Mr. Stoic? He just stared.

Cold. Assessing.

Like I was an insect under a microscope.

I stiffened slightly. “What would you like to order?”

His friend nudged him, and he finally ordered, his tone clipped.

I kept my smile, but it wasn’t as genuine anymore. “I’ll get that right out.”

As I turned, I felt Amy’s eyes burning into me from the counter. The moment I reached her, she pounced. “Girl. That man was looking at you like you’re his last meal.”

I scoffed. “More like he was disgusted by my existence.”

Amy laughed. “No, sweetie. That was desire.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her and continuing with my work. But later, as I crocheted, my mind drifted back to him.

I hated to admit it, but Mr. Stoic had a face that was hard to forget.

Too bad he came with an attitude I didn’t like.