Free On the Steamy Side by Louisa Edwards

“Ever since Miranda came along he’s been unloading this job on her. He had to do it himself today and he rushed it, because he wanted to have it done before Devon got here. To take over our restaurant and turn all our lives into a living hell.”

    “Gracious.” Lilah was taken aback by Grant’s vehemence. “Is it really that bad?”

    “Bad doesn’t begin to describe it! We’re about to be under the thumb of one of the most famously dictatorial chefs in the industry! I used to work for him, back when he opened his first restaurant, Appetite, and I tried to quit about once a month before I finally managed to make it stick. It’s not going to be good, Lolls. You might want to rethink this whole brand-new beginning you’re trying on for size.
    Let me find you a job bussing tables someplace else.”

    “No! I want to be at Market. I like it here, all the folks I’ve met have been so kind and welcoming. And you said yourself, no other good restaurant is going to hire someone like me, with no experience at all, and pay a decent wage. I’m willing to impose myself on my oldest, dearest childhood chum like that, but my aunt didn’t raise me to be a charity case.”

    Not entirely true—Lilah had felt like a charity case most of her life, living with her aunt and uncle. They hadn’t tried to make her aware of her status in their household, never reminded her that she wasn’t theirs, but she’d felt different from her cousins, all the same.

    With Grant, though, Lilah knew herself to be on solid ground. Grant had always just liked her; no duty, obligation, or charity about it.

    He smiled at her now. “I’ve loved having you in Manhattan with me. Even if my apartment’s not really set up for two people.”

    “It’s cozy,” Lilah said. “Think how nice it’ll be when winter comes.” She was looking forward to the snow. Virginia didn’t see a lot of it.

    “Sure, except now it’s summer and we’re baking like two little cinnamon buns in a pan. Seriously, Lols, are you glad you came? I know it’s only been a few days, but it was a big change for you.”

    “It was time and past. I needed to experience life outside of the county.” Grant’s mouth twisted. “You never did fit in with those white-gloves-and-pearls Virginia debutantes, did you?”

    “No more than you. It was destiny that we became friends.”

    “Right, destiny. Or the fact that our family’s farms butted up on the same crick.” Lilah laughed, because Grant wanted her to. He didn’t like to think about his past as a misfit, she’d noticed. When he’d moved to New York right out of high school, Aunt Bertie had shaken her head and made dour predictions about the fate of a country mouse in the big city, but Grant had never looked back. Lilah knew for a fact that she was the only person he still kept in touch with from their high school class—not that many of those bubble-brained jocks and twittering debs had the sense to know what they were missing out on.

    They didn’t like Grant because he was different in some way they sensed, but couldn’t define.

    And they didn’t like Lilah because she wore clothes that used to belong to her older (male) cousins and refused to follow their lead when it came to Grant. Or, well, anything.

    “Have I thanked you for taking me in and letting me stay with you?” Lilah asked.

    “At least twice a day since you moved up here,” Grant said. “And from now on, there’s a moratorium on calling your new life ‘an imposition.’ I love having you here. Even if my apartment is tiny enough that even with you over on the pull-out couch, I woke up when you got the hiccups that first night.”

    “Missed me last night, didn’t you? Admit it.” Lilah crossed the last T with a flourish and stood to hand the finished product over the desk.

    “Gladly,” he told her, taking the menus and casting his eyes over them quickly. “Actually, I missed you more this morning when I had to get my own