Abby
Smoothing down my chef’s coat, I carefully step out into the dining area. I’m met with the sound of a bustling, happy restaurant—a sound that should make me elated, but right now, it just adds to my worry.
“He’s over there,” Daisy murmurs in my ear. She nods her head toward a man who’s sitting by himself at a corner table. He’s sitting with his back turned to me, wearing a crisp tweed jacket. Even from where I’m standing, I can see him writing furiously in a notepad.
Taking a deep breath, I walk up to the man and clear my throat.
“Good evening, sir,” I say. “I’m Abby, the head chef and owner of the establishment. You wished to speak with me?”
The man slowly turns. His gaze, cold and calculated despite the warm brown color of his eyes, seems to appraise me as he sca
