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.”