Tempting My Best Friend

4

Max gave me a knowing look. “Mhm.”

Disgust rippled through me at the notion of being romantically interested in Emmett. I had seen the way Emmett was with women—flirty, friendly, charming, and funny. He knew exactly what he was doing. And multiple times at my restaurant, I’d seen him remind women that he wasn’t the guy they wanted him to be. He roped them in and spat them out when he was done with them.

My dad was like that. He was everyone’s best friend until he changed his mind and disappeared. He was the brightest star in the room, the person everyone wanted to talk with and hang out with. When he was in a good mood, he brought everyone up with him, laughing and chatting and complimenting people and brightening their day. When he was in a bad mood, the clouds poured on everyone in his proximity, and he dragged everyone down with him.

I’d bet my life savings that Emmett was exactly like my dad.

Before I could respond, Max picked up two lanterns and strolled away. I laughed to myself before glancing back at Emmett’s table, where he was deep in conversation with his client. He glanced up, and we made eye contact before he winked.

I rolled my eyes again before turning back to the lanterns.

I didn’t know Emmett Rhodes in high school, but I had heard all about him. Heartbreaker, ladies’ man, Casanova—just a few of the names people had used to describe his time there. I believed it. The guy was six-four, lean but muscular, olive-toned skin, dark hair that he kept short and stylish, and a sharp jawline. His eyes were a pale grey, like all the Rhodes men. The guy could have modeled for cologne ads if he wanted to. He made whatever he was wearing look designer. Tonight, he wore slim black jeans, brown leather boots, and a white t-shirt, but he looked like he stepped out of the Redwing boots catalog. He was a walking advertisement for clothes, he made them look so good.

Not that I was interested. Yes, the guy looked like Henry Cavill, but I wasn’t in the market for someone who I could barely get within ten feet of without rolling my eyes.

Emmett Rhodes was what happened when a man grew up too attractive. He thought he had the world at his fingertips. I had spent the last five years avoiding Emmett Rhodes.

He liked to play this little game where he’d ask me out and I always said no. He had been doing this for years. He didn’t actually like me, he was that kind of guy who loved the chase. He only messed with me because I was the only person in town immune to him.

One of the candle flames singed my fingers as I placed it into the lantern and I swore under my breath. No more thinking about Mr. Popular. I had a job to do.

Within a few minutes, the place was illuminated in soft candlelight.

“We need a generator,” Max told me.

“Find me the money,” I responded pointedly. “We’re making do with what we have.” I tilted my chin to him. “I’ll take care of the bar, you know what to do.”

He grinned and slipped out from behind the bar, tossing me his apron. I glanced over the list of receipts from the servers and began making a whiskey sour. Servers dropped off more drink receipts and delivered the last of the dishes from the kitchen to their respective tables. In the corner of the restaurant, Max took a seat and balanced his guitar on his knee. He began playing, and diners watched and listened with little smiles on their faces. I pulled out my phone, took a sneaky pic of him playing, and posted it to our social media.

“The power’s out but nothing will stop us from having a great night at The Arbutus.” I typed out the caption and hit post before slipping my phone back into my pocket and getting to work on the drinks.

In the summer, the power went out maybe once a month, but in the winter, outages occurred at least once a week. We couldn’t close up shop every time we lost power or we’d be in the red, so over the last couple years, I figured out ways to stay open. No music? Max was a musician, and a damn good one. No lighting? Candlelight in the restaurant and propane lanterns in the kitchens. Thankfully, our kitchen had gas stoves so we could still finish the last of dinner service. Because we didn’t know how long the outages would last and didn’t want a week’s worth of food going bad, we kept our fridge and freezer stocks low. The Arbutus was all about fresh, local food anyways, so this wasn’t an issue.

We made it work. Whatever happened, we always made it work.

Hours later, after the last customer had left, the servers counted up their tips, Max packed up his guitar, and I flipped chairs onto the tables as the staff left. Candles still illuminated the space in their lanterns, and I moved around the empty restaurant, tidying and sweeping and closing up. Some people wouldn’t want to be here alone so late, but I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Late at night, when everything was quiet and still, this was when I felt most at home. The charming place really felt like mine during these moments.

One day, when I had enough money and Keiko was ready to sell, The Arbutus would be my restaurant. My legacy. The success story my mom never had.

A light knock on the door shook me out of my thoughts. It was after midnight, and we were clearly closed, but maybe someone had forgotten their phone or wallet under a table.

Keiko’s smiling face peered through the glass door. She was wearing her bright yellow raincoat and gave me a cheery wave.

“Hi, what are you doing here so late?” I asked and opened the door. “You have a key, you don’t need to knock.”

She followed me in and locked the door behind her. “I didn’t want to startle you. I knew you’d be here still.”

“Want something to drink? I can put the kettle on.”

“That would be nice.” She threw me a soft smile as she pulled a bar stool down.

In the kitchen, I filled the kettle and put it on the stove in the dim light from the lanterns. Keiko didn’t often pay me visits, but I savored the moments I had with her, just the two of us. Previous bosses didn’t have the time or interest to teach me the industry, but Keiko had taken me under her wing and taught me everything she knew. When I took over as manager and she saw I had things under control, she began to step back from the business. Her daughter had just had a baby, so Keiko spent several weeks at a time in Vancouver, visiting her. I still sent her monthly reports of the restaurant’s financials, although I doubted she looked at them anymore.

I returned with our mugs of tea. “So, what brings you to our beautiful establishment tonight?”

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the mug and blowing the wafting steam off it. “I want to chat with you about something.”

“Is everything okay?” I frowned and slid onto the stool beside her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry, everything is fine, no one is dead, and I’m healthy as a teenager.”

“It’s all that yoga you do.”

“Every day. I’m thinking about doing my teacher training.”

“Oh, really? You’re going to be a yoga teacher?” I asked, a big smile spreading across my face. Keiko would be a perfect yoga teacher, with her calm, grounding presence.

She shook her head. “No, it’s just fun to keep busy and keep learning. Something new.” She took a breath and patted my hand. “Speaking of something new.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Mhm?”

She looked like she didn’t know which words to use. “I think it’s time for me to move to Vancouver to be with Layla and the baby.”

I blinked, taking a moment to digest this. “Moving. Wow.” Queen’s Cove was a three-hour drive to Victoria, the biggest city on Vancouver Island, and then another three hours to Layla’s place via ferry and highway. “I guess that makes sense. I’m sure it’s a pain, going back and forth on the ferry all the time.” I sagged a bit, bummed that I would be seeing even less of Keiko. “We’re going to miss you around here. Are you going to move into Layla’s place?”

She took a sip of tea and shook her head. “No, actually, a townhouse in her complex just went up for sale, and I would like to buy it.”

“Wow, that’s lucky,” I told her. “Layla’s place is pretty small, right?”

She nodded. “Two-bedroom. Too small for me to move into.” She gave me another soft smile and pressed her lips together, watching me. Something in Keiko’s expression told me she wasn’t finished.

“I feel like there’s more.”

“Well,” she said and took a deep breath. “Avery, I know that you love The Arbutus, and I know it’s as special to you as it is to me.”

“Absolutely.” Zero hesitation.

“The townhouse in Layla’s complex is more than my home here by a lot. Vancouver real estate is quite expensive.”

I had heard about this. Even Vancouver Island prices were rising, and residents were frustrated that their adult children were struggling to buy a home. I knew about the issue but wasn’t concerned by it, because I had no intention of buying a home anytime soon. My sole focus was saving to buy The Arbutus one day.

“Are you going to sell your home here?” I asked her.

She nodded and looked a little bit sad but resolved. “I’m listing it tomorrow. It’ll be hard to leave the place I’ve lived in for thirty years, but it’s time.” She smiled again at me and nodded. “And I’ll be selling the restaurant as well.”

My pulse stopped. I blinked. “Selling…the restaurant?”

She nodded, watching me. “That’s the plan. My financial advisor thinks it’s better if I sell both to pay for the townhome.” She nodded again to herself. “And I’m ready. It’s time for the next phase of life, being a grandmother.” She smiled.

“I have to ask—who are you selling it to?”

“You, if you’re interested.” There was a sparkle in her eye.

My mouth gaped open. “Of course I’m interested!”

She laughed. We had never spoken about me buying the place, but there always seemed to be an unspoken understanding about it.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, taking another sip of tea and smiling at me over her mug. “I was disappointed when my Layla didn’t want anything to do with the place, but you waltzed in, and my prayers were answered.”

My eyes stung, and I smiled at her. I had worked in the restaurant industry for five years before moving here and never had I found a mentor like Keiko, someone who was kind to their staff, someone who taught me everything about how to run a restaurant. To hear her tell me that she wanted me to buy The Arbutus made me even more resolved to make her proud.

A thought struck me. Did I have enough savings for a loan? I thought I had more time. I thought Keiko would retire in five, maybe ten years. This was a surprise, but I could handle it. I had handled surprises before, and I had everything under control. I was going to buy the restaurant.

“I hope you know that I love this restaurant, and I will do everything in my power to ensure it is a success,” I vowed, leaning in. “I’ll go to the bank tomorrow. I’ll talk to them about a business loan.”