It’s once again one of those days.

Even though I was in bed by eight, I overslept and had to rush through getting ready.

Tatum also wasn’t feeling it this morning. She hated every outfit I picked out. She wanted her pink juice cup, but we couldn’t find it. She wanted to bring her Troll doll to school, but it isn’t show-and-tell day. It was one thing after another. All trivial things, mind you. But all together, they had my pulse racing.

By the time I got her dropped off at daycare, I was a hot, frazzled mess.

But, it’s a Monday, so I’m cutting myself some slack. Plus, I still have fifteen minutes before the stupid staff meeting, and it’s only a five-minute drive from Tatum’s daycare.

So, yeah, totally winning.

I breeze through the employee entrance at seven fifty-five on the dot—thanks to hitting two red lights. Jenny immediately rushes over to me, practically bouncing on the toes of her black, restaurant standard, non-slip sneakers.

“Oh. My. Good. God. Girl!”

Grinning at her early morning enthusiasm, I arch a brow at her. “What’s got you all excited?”

“Word in the kitchen is the sale is as good as done, and we get to meet the new owner today. I overheard Giselle saying she saw him and that he is fiiiiine.” Mind you, her name is actually Jess Elle, but she says it isn’t sophisticated enough and insists we all call her Giselle. Whatevs.

“Yeah, well…” I trail off. “I guess we’ll see soon enough.”

“Girl. You could at least pretend to be excited about some new eye candy.”

I shrug my shoulders. As pathetic as it sounds, there’s only one guy who has ever truly caught my eye, and last I heard he was in France and engaged to fucking Mia. Even now, after all these years, thoughts of her make me stabby.

At promptly eight o’clock, our daytime manager, Carlos, ushers us all into the dining room. Jenny and I snag a two-top near the back—that way we’ll be able to whisper back and forth as this meeting drones on.

Before everyone even has a chance to sit down, Carlos starts. “Thanks for being here today guys.”

“Like we had a choice,” someone near the front mumbles.

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose and continues. “As I was saying, I know it’s early and a lot of y’all don’t even work today, so I appreciate it. Before we get into the heavy stuff, I want to thank everyone who worked on-site at the Benson wedding shower last weekend. I know it was hot, but y’all killed it.”

Don, our owner, who is every bit as lackluster as his name, steps up behind Carlos. He taps his foot impatiently as Carlos continues. Finally, Don taps his shoulder. “All right guys—guess I’m going to turn it over to head honcho.”

Don takes the mic and taps it three times, testing it as if Carlos wasn’t just speaking into it. “I know there have been rumors about me wanting to sell this place. Well, they were true, and after noon today, I’ll no longer be the owner of this dump.”

His careless words spark a hot fury in my veins. This place wouldn’t be a dump if it weren’t for him and his apathetic, absent ownership. The only thing that jackass does is scrawl his name across our paychecks.

“Now then, let me introduce y’all to the new owner, Alden Warner.”

At the sound of his name, I gasp, sucking air down the wrong pipe, causing me to choke so hard that I’m sure it looks like I’m sobbing. Hell, maybe I am. I’m certain my face is beet red, and I sound like a barking baby seal. My vision is blurred by my salty tears, but I can feel everyone looking at me. I cover my face with my hands in a paltry attempt to hide.

Right when I think my humiliation couldn’t possibly get any worse, the universe decides to prove me wrong.

“Here, take a sip.” Four words. That’s it, and even though his voice is deeper—rougher—I’d know it anywhere. Alden Warner is right in front of me. Talking to me. Offering me a drink. Except I’m pretty sure he’s the only thing that can quench my thirst. And the kicker—he probably doesn’t even know who he’s talking to. I’m just some nameless waitress he inherited when he bought the café.

Ignoring him, I continue choking and wheezing into my palms. There’s no way in hell I can face him right now.

Undeterred, Alden pushes the cool glass against my knuckles. “Seriously, take a sip. Please.”

There’s something about the way he says ‘please.’ His voice dropped deeper and sounded so imploring, like his life depended on me drinking that water. Then again, he probably didn’t want a waitress to die before the ink on the deed was even dry.

Slowly, I pull my hands from my face and take the glass from him. Bringing it to my lips, I take one small sip. And then another. Feeling brave, I sneak a peek up at him, but he’s like the sun and looking at him dead-on hurts. So, I quickly revert back to staring at my lap. He probably doesn’t even recognize me.

Except, judging by the, “No way,” he murmurs, I know he did. He runs his index and middle finger down my jaw and under my chin, using them to tilt my face up toward him. “You work here?”

My words fail me, so I settle on a nod. A stiff, impersonal, awkward as hell nod.

“Holy shit, Small Fry! Get your ass up and give me a hug!”

I open my mouth to reply, but with catlike reflexes, Alden yanks me up from my chair and into his arms. Deciding to make the best of this unexpected but oh-so-welcome physical contact, I breathe him in. He stills smells the same—like spicy citrus and pure, unfiltered sex appeal. It’s fucking deadly.

He holds me tight to his body—so close I can feel the lean muscles beneath his shirt. So close I might lose my mind and never let go if don’t move away from him, pronto.

Finally, yet all too soon, Alden steps away from me taking his blessed body heat with him.

“Jesus, girl, it’s been too long. How the hell are you?” he asks, sounding genuinely happy to see me.

However, instead of responding with a polite and rational reply like a normal fucking adult, my inner-teenager answers for me, sounding petulant and snotty. “Just dandy. How’s Mia, your fiancée?” Even after all these years her name still tastes like poison