The Spiced Cow was my vision and I was making it happen. It was a quirky name, the food was punch-in-the-gut brilliant, and because it was all so different than anything else out there, everyone remembered my restaurant. The one way to make it memorable was to break all the rules. And one thing I was fucking good at—breaking the rules.

If I do say so myself.

I arrived at the restaurant at seven. Greyson was already having a smoke outside the back door. The Seattle air tasted of pure nature and Greyson was huddled in his leather jacket against the morning chill. When he saw me, he dropped his cigarette butt on the asphalt, and stubbed it out with his toe before picking it up and throwing it in the dumpster. I appreciated a clean smoker.

“Morning, boss,” Greyson said.

“Stop calling me boss,” I said.

Greyson shrugged. “Not if that’s what you are.”

I shook my head but grinned. I liked working with Greyson. He was tough as nails, full of shit, and not willing to bend for anyone. My kinda guy. He was also a wizard in the kitchen, producing the kind of food my diners remembered. If I had found a regular chef to help me out with The Spiced Cow, I was certain we wouldn’t have been nearly as popular.

Now I wouldn’t say that to Greyson’s face, of course. It was good to keep the troops in line and Greyson was a cocky SOB as it was.

While I unlocked, Greyson fired up the kitchen and I set up the dining area. I looked around before I started. I had recently painted one wall a deep red—a stark contrast against the other gray walls but it worked. Everything else—the tablecloths, cutlery, and crockery—were minor crimes, to signify the black and white colors of the Friesian cow. There were all kinds of rules about using colors that increased appetite, but I had broken those, too.

Harper arrived as I tipped the chairs down and she started helping me.

“Morning, boss,” she said.

“Are you all calling me that to piss me off?” I asked. They knew I hated being called Boss.

“Maybe,” Harper admitted, and flashed me a cheeky smile. Of course, I would find staff that gave me shit. It all fit, didn’t it?

“Carry on out here,” I ordered, and walked back to the kitchen where Greyson was taking out the meat we had marinated yesterday. Greyson marinated a new batch of meat every twenty-four hours—marinating ahead of time guaranteed the kind of bite my customers would remember.

“What are you doing on your weekend off?” I asked Greyson, helping him take the dishes out of the industrial fridge. Greyson worked for me every other weekend, on top of his weekly schedule. His weekends in between were dedicated to travelling, exploring, escaping. Greyson was a lone ranger without family and with very few friends.

“I’m going hiking,” Greyson said. “I’ll make sure I marinate enough meat for two days so you don’t have to worry about Carl messing up your secret recipe.”

I nodded. Greyson was my favorite chef but he had to take time off, and when he did, I had Carl to stand in for him. Carl was a young chef fresh out of school with an eagerness to learn and no rules to fuck his creativity up yet. Whenever he had an afternoon off, Carl spent time in the kitchen, with Greyson teaching him the ropes.

“That sounds great,” I said.

“So, next week The Spiced Cow will have been open for a year. How does it feel?” Greyson asked.

Nodding, I replied, “Feels pretty damn good.”

I had been a lumberjack before I opened my restaurant. My best friend Zach Harte had invested in the business, helping me get on my feet. I hadn’t looked back since.

“We’re getting busy enough for you to consider hiring new staff,” Greyson said.

“Like who? We’re doing fine.”

“Hire some good-looking girls. We could do with a pretty face or two around here. A chef gets lonely,” Greyson said with a grin at me.

“You just want me to hire you a piece of ass,” I laughed. “Get laid on your own dime.”

Greyson shrugged. He was single because his freedom was more important to him than companionship. I didn’t recall him ever having a girlfriend or even talking about his sexcapades. It was something I understood. I didn’t date, either. I got laid when I felt lonely, which happened often enough, but I hadn’t ever been compelled to phone any of the women back. I even had a don’t-fuck-twice policy to play it safe because women became so damn attached.

Mine was nothing like Zach’s life. I respected my best friend for taking Blithe in—his  daughter had been living with him for about a year and he had done a full one-eighty, going from fucker to father. But I wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. I didn’t know if I had what it took to do what he had done. If some woman showed up telling me the kid was mine I would probably pay her off to shut up and get the fuck out of my life.

Was I a son of a bitch? Yeah. But that life just wasn’t for me. I wasn’t ready to settle down and the idea of having a bunch of kids around downright scared me. Maybe one day I would have a woman to call my own, but I was still young. Who married before thirty these days anyway? And I had only just hit the mark.

“What about Harper?” I asked, lowering my voice. “She’s cute, right?”

Greyson nodded. “Oh yeah, smoking hot, alright. But there is no way. A girl like her has taste, man. No way in hell she’s giving me a chance.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Harper said, walking into the kitchen. Greyson looked embarrassed and I laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Harper asked. “I thought a man with his own restaurant would understand the concept of taste. Then again, considering the menu, maybe I’m wrong.”

Greyson and I looked at each other and he pulled up his shoulders in a shrug. Harper was quick with her tongue, confident and like Greyson had said, she had very high standards. It was one of the reasons I had hired her—someone with high standards would work hard to execute the job properly. And Harper did.

Harper and Greyson had been with me from the start, and they had made it all possible. They had worked as hard as I had from day one—investing their time and energy into my restaurant as if it was their own. And while we were fighting side by side to make The Spiced Cow a going concern, we had become unlikely friends.

Harper was a stunner. She had long red hair and green eyes the color of spring leaves. She was curvy and feminine, but what made her stand out from the crowd even more was her confidence. She was the kind of woman you wanted to get to know because her personality was so fucking attractive you couldn’t stay away. I had been drawn to her from day one. She had told me she’d come for an interview because she wondered what it would be like to work in a restaurant. Just like that—no reason other than curiosity. Her sense of freedom was something that resonated with me.

“Tell me you’re not leaving that meat here for Caden to serve to his guests when you leave,” Harper said, turning her nose up at the marinated meat when Greyson opened the containers.

“What’s wrong with my meat?” Greyson asked.

The corners of her mouth twitched with a smile. “Nothing more than usual,” she said.

I laughed when Greyson made a face.

“You love it,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, babe,” Harper joked. “Give me some of your meat.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head but she was still smiling. Greyson stuck his tongue out.

“It’s the closest I ever get to her making a move on me,” he said.

“Closer than you deserve,” Harper laughed.

I loved our group dynamic. We were three shit-stirrers and got along fine because we were always looking for trouble. We respected each other, worked well together and we never had a dull moment.

Harper moved around the kitchen and I watched her take the plates and glasses from the cabinets to set the tables. Her hands were sure with the glassware and her eyes were bright. God, she was a hell of a woman. And unreachable.

Like she’d said to Greyson, there was no chance. Harper played her cards close to her chest and she guarded her heart very carefully. Whatever had happened to her before, it had left a lasting impression and she was careful.

I could respect that. So I hadn’t made any kind of attempts to woo her, even though I would have loved to take her out and show her a good time, and then take her home and show her what I was made of.

Maybe it was the fact that she was out of reach that made her so desirable. We always want what we can’t have, right?

When it was time to throw open the doors, Harper walked to the hostess station. Greyson put eggs and bacon on the grill and spiced it with the jalapeno flakes he’d brought back from his trip to Mexico. There was nothing quite as memorable as eggs that could kick your teeth in.

“Table for one?” Harper asked our first customer, a business man in a suit who looked like someone had taken a piss in his coffee. His face was sour.

“No, thank you. I’m here to talk to Mr. Griffin.”

“He’s right over there,” Harper said, pointing in my direction. Suit-and-tie walked toward me, his hand already extended from the other side of the room.

“Mr. Griffin, my name is William Danbury, attorney at law for Will and Estate planning.”

I frowned, shaking his hand.

“You’re not here for our famous steak,” I said.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m here to inform you that your grandmother, Mrs. Josephine Gloria Griffin has passed away.”

I stared at the lawyer.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I hadn’t seen or heard of Grandma Josie since I was a kid. I hadn’t even known the old woman had been alive for so long. I waited for stiff-upper-lip Danbury to tell me why he was here. Telling me my grandmother had died couldn’t be the only reason he had come to see me, but I didn’t want to seem disrespectful to the dead and ask him why the hell he was standing in my restaurant.

“The reading of the will and testament has been arranged for next week in California.” He handed me an envelope. “This contains everything you need to know. We have notified your family.”

My family. I didn’t have any family left. I was loner for a reason. As far as I knew, Camden was the only cousin I still had around and I hadn’t seen him in years, either.

Nothing like a funeral for a family reunion, I thought. It was usually like this.

“Thank you,” I said to Danbury. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee at least?”

He shook his head. “No, I must be off.”

The lawyer nodded curtly before leaving my restaurant. I would have been happy if he’d bought a cup of coffee, but whatever. I looked down at the envelope he’d handed me and ripped it open. It had details of the reading, the address and time and small little details about what I was and wasn’t allowed to do.

It was all a pain in my ass if I had to be honest about it. I wasn’t in the mood to travel to Cali for this. What could Grandma Josie have left for me? She hadn’t ever been a part of my life. But I guess it couldn’t hurt.

And seeing Camden again might be interesting. Would the restaurant cope without me for a week? I had never been away since it had opened.

Only one way to find out.