Screw You, Lover: An Enemies To Lovers Romance Read online

  “Tell me about it, the Burrito Barn really did a number on this property,” I say, before looking up from the clipboard at Matt, who’s still smiling at me.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Wait, what do you mean by unfinished business?”

  He looks like he’s about to burst out laughing. “Well, how would you describe your relationship with Riley right now?”

  I shrug. “Same as always, we’re sworn enemies. We just made a temporary truce so I could help reopen the Pizza Kitchen and pay back her mom for teaching me how to cook, then we broke the truce, and now we’re starting it up again until the restaurant is open. We’ve definitely had a few…intense encounters since then, but so far, we’re on track to open this place on time, and from there, we’ll see what happens.”

  Matt nods. “Okay, yeah, that’s what I thought. Well, the good news is, you’ve got a little bit of time to figure that out, because Anya’s uncle is in Morocco for the next three weeks, and I don’t think we could reach him if we wanted to.”

  Then, he pulls out a thick stack of paper and drops it onto the center of the table. “And the better news is, I looked over this whole contract last night, and this thing is a golden fucking ticket. All we have to do is sign this and we’re going to be right in the middle of South Beach in a building twice the size of our current one, with the ability to get ingredients flown in from anywhere in the world the same week we order them. You should definitely have your mom look at this just to see if there’s anything I missed, but I’m pretty sure this thing is our future.”

  I pull the contract over next to the clipboard and start reading through it, my eyebrows raising when I see how much guaranteed money we’re going to get paid up front as a relocation bonus. “Yeah, I’ll have my mom look at this. This might be too good to be true.”

  “Right,” Matt says, “And we don’t have to move to Miami if you don’t want to. I love it here, and I wouldn’t mind staying independent if you think you have too much, you know, unfinished business to pack up and leave right now.”

  “Oh, you want to go,” I say, “I can hear it in your voice. You want to live five minutes from Crave like I do now and still be able to catch waves on the beach first thing in the morning.”

  “Well, yeah,” Matt says, “But there are a lot of things that are more important than that. That’s why I was curious where you were at with Riley.”

  “Oh, Riley would jump for fucking joy if I moved to Miami. She’s been trying to get away from me for years.”

  I look up at Matt, who has a weirdly serious look on his face. “Are you sure about that?” he asks in a soft voice.

  “Why wouldn’t I be sure about that? It’s the most obvious thing in the world. I can’t stand her and she can’t stand me.”

  “Well, she has a funny way of showing it,” Matt says, “And so do you.”

  Oh, no, not this again. After a whole night of designers and models thinking Riley and I are boyfriend and girlfriend, now even Matt is doing it. “Look, I know we’re living together and it must seem like we’re fucking like bunnies twice a day, but that doesn’t mean anything is different between us.”

  “That’s the thing,” Matt says, “I’m not saying anything is different between you. You two have always had a funny way of showing your hate for each other, and if you’re starting to feel like it’s not actually hate…then maybe moving to Miami right now isn’t such a good idea.”

  I take a deep breath, and the two of us are quiet for a couple seconds.

  And as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Riley and I are not acting like two people who actually hate each other right now, and I have no idea what that means. “I mean, you’re right. Something is different between us. But I have no idea if it’s just all this work making us crazy or…I don’t know what. The one thing I do know is that we’re going to keep doing whatever we’re doing until this place is open for business again, and then, I assume we’re going to go back to the way things were before, and we’ll just head to Miami. But until that happens, I can’t even think about this.”

  I push the contract back towards Matt. “So if Anya’s uncle asks, tell him we’ll sign this thing when he gets back from Morocco, and we’ll just deal with it then.”

  Matt gathers the contract in his hands. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to head back to Crave and get ready for the lunch rush. Let me know if you need any help here.”

  “I think I’ve got it,” I say, skimming through the checklists in front of me, “But I’ll call you over after lunch if you need some help.”

  Flashing me a thumbs up, Matt climbs out of the booth and heads out the front door, leaving me alone in Riley’s Pizza Kitchen with a million thoughts running through my head.

  But one thing’s for sure.

  I’m not going anywhere until this place is up and running again.

  Chapter 22: Riley

  It’s Friday night, and the whole restaurant is packed with people, laughing and eating by candlelight. I’m in the back, in the corner booth I used to hang out in as a kid, watching people come in.

  Liam’s sitting across from me, stretched out across his side of the booth. Normally, I’d tell him to leave me alone and go eat pizza alone somewhere, but he’s not really doing anything wrong right now. He’s just looking out at the restaurant with a calm smile on his face, so I guess he can stay. For now.

  “There are so many people here,” I say to him, as I look down at the menu.

  “Yeah,” he replies, “I guess we did a pretty good job getting everything set up.”

  I look from table to table, watching each guest enjoying their dinners. There are families with little kids, young couples out on dates, and co-workers talking business, and everyone’s relaxed. Everyone’s having a good time. Everyone’s happy.

  “This wouldn’t have happened without your help,” I say to Liam, “So, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Liam says, his brown eyes practically glowing in the dim light of the restaurant. Then, before I can react, he leans over the table and kisses me hard, so hard that it takes me a couple seconds to start kissing him back.

  “Oh, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” says a familiar voice a couple feet away from us.

  A very familiar voice.

  “Mom!” I say, after I pull my lips away from Liam’s and retreat back over to my side of the booth. “You’re embarrassing me…”

  I look up at her, her thin glasses framing her kind, understanding eyes just like they always do. “Well, hey, I’m just glad you two finally stopped pretending to hate each other. For a while there, I wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen.”

  “MOM!” I say, blushing as she talks about Liam and I right in front of him. I’m never going to live this down.

  Mom lifts her shoulders into a gentle shrug. “What’s there to be embarrassed about? There’s nothing wrong with falling in love with the annoying boy next door. It worked for me and your father.”

  Blushing, I look up at Liam. “This isn’t the same thing. I’m not falling in…”

  Liam’s brown eyes pierce mine again, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips as I remember what they just felt like on mine. “…love with him.”

  Mom gives me a knowing look. “Well, speaking of your father, just make sure he’s getting out of the house every once in a while, alright? I know he loves me and misses me every day, but I love him too much to watch him spend his days alone.”

  I tear up a little as I look up at Mom, suddenly remembering why she’s talking like that. “Okay,” I say, “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “Good,” she says, “And you know I’d never let you two show up here and go hungry, so I had the kitchen whip up a few of your favorites.”

  A waiter brings two pizzas up to the table, setting a pepperoni and bacon pie in front of Liam and a steaming hot dessert pie covered in apples, cinnamon, and gooey hot chocolate in front of me.

  I pull a slice over onto my plate, then lo
ok up at Mom one more time, my eyes filling with tears as she smiles down at me.

  “Look at this place,” she says, as my eyes drift back over to the happy customers at the tables, “Open again, making people happy again. I’m proud of you, Riley. I’m so, so, so proud of you.”

  Leave it to Mom to cook me an amazing dinner and then immediately make me cry. I smile up at her through my tears. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll try to keep making you proud.”

  “I know you will, Riley,” her voice says, coming from where she was standing just a second ago but isn’t anymore, leaving just the happy groups of people eating dinner in my field of view.

  “I know you will.”

  “Riley?”

  The sound of my name jolts me awake, my head buried in my arms and my cheeks wet with tears. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sit up and turn towards the source of the voice.

  “Dad?” I ask, sniffling as he gets in the booth where I must have fallen asleep trying to get ready for tonight.

  “Is everything alright?” he asks, a look of concern on his face.

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling at him as a few more tears roll down my cheeks, “I just had a dream about Mom.”

  Slowly, he nods. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t after falling asleep in here. I don’t know how you did it…but this place looks exactly like it used to.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” I say, “Hence the whole ‘passing out on the table and crying in my sleep’ thing.”

  Dad laughs. “Is there anything major left to do?”

  I think for a couple seconds, and then shake my head. “Nope. Some cooks and waiters from Crave are coming by in a couple hours, and then, once we’re done setting up, it’s officially grand opening time. I guess I just needed a little time to crash after all that hard work.”

  Dad’s eyes drift over to the picture of Mom outside of the restaurant I hung above this booth. “She’d be proud of you for doing this, you know. Very, very proud.”

  “I know,” I say, looking up at him, “She just told me.”

  We’re both quiet for a couple seconds, taking in the restaurant, which looks so much like it used to that even I’m surprised by it.

  “Well,” Dad says, taking a seat across from me, “I just wanted to come by before the rush and tell you that I’m proud of you, too.”

  He smiles warmly at me from across the table. “And I also wanted to drop off a little gift in honor of your grand opening.”

  My mouth drops open in shock as Dad sets a thick, old-fashioned notebook onto the middle of the table, with little strips of color-coded paper bookmarks sticking out of almost every page.

  “You found it!?” I ask, pulling the notebook over towards me, my hands trembling a little as I touch it. The cover is unmarked, but there’s no mistaking Mom’s recipe book for anything else in the world. “Where was it that it took you this long to find it?”

  Dad looks embarrassed, “I mean, uh, actually I found it right away, but your Mom left some instructions inside the front cover about when I should give it to you.”

  I open the book to the first page, and sure enough, there’s a note there, written in Mom’s handwriting.

  If you’re reading this, and you want to learn how to cook the recipes inside, here’s my recommended first step: don’t consult these notes at all. Think of something I’ve made that you liked, and make your version of it, from memory. I guarantee you’ll thank me, and you just might learn something about yourself while you do it, especially if you’re sharing your creations with a loved one. Cooking is wonderful that way.

  P.S.: This advice goes double for a certain husband of mine. If Riley or Sam ever decide to get the kitchen back up and running, don’t you dare give these notes to them until their opening night!

  I read the note a couple of times, my eyes tracing the familiar loops of her handwriting. And then, I gently close the book.

  “As usual, she’s right,” I say to Dad, “I learned a lot about myself trying to do this without these recipes.”

  “I figured you would,” Dad says, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with before you open?”

  I think for a couple seconds, then nod. “Yeah, I think I’ve done everything.”

  Dad looks around the restaurant one more time. “Well, then, in that case, I think I’ll leave you to make your final preparations, and I’ll be back tonight for a meal I wasn’t sure I’d ever have again.”

  “Artichokes and feta cheese?” I ask.

  Dad lets out a deep breath, one that sounds happy and sad at the same time. “Yeah. That one.”

  He gets up from the booth. “I’m supposed to meet a co-worker for a lunch date in about an hour, and I’m sure I’ll be thinking about artichokes and feta cheese the whole time.”

  “A date, huh?” I ask, smiling at Dad, “What’s her name?”

  Dad blushes a little. “Oh, no, no, no, it’s nothing like that, it’s really more like a business meeting, I shouldn’t have even called it a—”

  “Dad,” I say, cutting him off, “You’re blushing. If it’s not a date, maybe it should be?”

  “Oh, well, uh, I don’t know—”

  I cut him off again with a gesture of my hand. “‘I know he loves me and misses me every day, but I love him too much to watch him spend his days alone.’”

  Dad’s eyes go wide. “Where did you…did she…”

  “In my dream,” I say, “She told me to tell you that.”

  “I see,” Dad says, looking down at the floor for a few seconds. Then, when he looks back up at me, there’s something calm in his expression, and when he smiles, it comes easier to him than I’ve seen in a long time. “Well, her name is Heather…but it’s still not a date. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Well, you’d better not be late,” I say, wagging a finger at Dad.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he says, eyes darting to the clock, “I should probably get going. But I’ll see you tonight, and I’ll save lots of room for pizza.”

  “Sounds good. Have fun! And, uh…thanks for this.” I hold up Mom’s notebook of recipes, and Dad smiles, nods, and heads through the front door of the restaurant, looking like someone just lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders.

  I watch him leave, and then, when he’s gone, I look down at the notebook in front of me.

  “I think he got the message,” I whisper.

  Then, after I confirm for the millionth time that there’s nothing left to do until the kitchen staff arrive, I finally let myself relax. For at least ten or fifteen minutes, I just walk around the restaurant, taking in the tables, the menus, and the decoration like I just walked in for the first time in five years.

  Then, realizing I’ve got some time to kill, I settle back down into my favorite booth and pull out my copy of Fuck You, Loverboy. With all this work on the restaurant, I haven’t had much time to finish it, but I’ve been close to the end for almost a week now, so I think it’s finally time to get these last couple pages in now, where no one will catch me reading it.

  Getting comfy in the booth, I open it up to the page I was on last time I read it, and before I know it, I’m lost in the story.

  And I stay lost in it from the page I’m on all the way to the very last one.

  Huh.

  They end up living happily ever after.

  Not what I was expecting when I picked up the book, but now that I think about it, I don’t know how the story could have ended any other way.

  Chapter 23: Riley

  “How big was the line when you came in?” I ask Liam, who’s going from table to table, lighting the candles in the middle.

  From inside the restaurant, I can only see the front of it, led a young trendy-looking couple on a date.

  “It stretched out to the end of the block,” Liam says, holding a burning candle up to light the one next to it.

  “It’s a lot bigger now,” One of our new waitresses says as she passes, setting glass bottles of olive oil out on the tables around us, �
��Someone pulled up in a limo and started taking selfies with the people in line, and now it’s at least three times longer.”

  “So someone from the hotel roof actually came…” I say.

  Liam shrugs. “I told you they were showing up at Crave.”

  I glare at Liam. “Yeah, and I assumed you were lying like you always do when you talk about good things happening to Crave.”

  I hear a low, faint growl coming from deep inside Liam’s chest and smirk. I think I’m starting to get better at pushing his buttons, and it’s really fun. “Oh, by the way, how many people were at Crave’s grand opening? Three? Four?”

  Liam smirks at me as he sets a candle back into its holder. “I didn’t have a master chef with a successful restaurant helping me out like you did.”

  He gestures at the couple on the other side of the glass door. “For example, I recognize that couple. They walked out of Crave last month and told me the food was delicious while I was on the phone. Now, they’re first in line tonight. See the connection?”

  “Yeah,” I say, taking a step closer to Liam and lowering my voice to a whisper, “I’m stealing your customers already.”

  I squeak as Liam lunges towards me, taking me up into his arms.

  “Liam!” I whisper at him, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of all of our co-workers seeing me holding him up against his perfect, ripped body, “Everyone can see us.”

  “Exactly,” he says, in a quiet, growly voice that sends a wave of heat through my body like a bomb, “Since you were being so ungrateful a second ago, I thought I’d let people see how you really feel about me.”

  My eyes go wide as his face comes down towards me, only to slam shut as his lips meet mine, kissing me passionately. And I kiss him back, even though my entire crew is getting the restaurant ready to open around us.

  “Don’t get used to this…” I say, pulling my lips away from his.

  “What, kissing you?” Liam replies, his thick forearms pressing the small of my back into his hips, “Too late. I’m really getting used to it.”