Ménage on the Rocks Excerpt
This excerpt is intended for Readers age 18 or older. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this page.
Copyright 2017 - All Rights Reserved
“What is it this time?” Stella glanced toward the waitress at her door.
As manager of the Rockshore Tavern and Grill, Stella dealt with a lot of difficult personalities. That was just how it was in Rockshore, Maine, where the elite came to enjoy summers away from the big cities. But the look on Megan’s face showed it could only be one particular personality who would be a thorn in her side today. Ozzy DeMeer, the critically acclaimed chef the owners had forced her to hire. Critically acclaimed pain in my ass. Since the day the man had arrived he’d been nothing trouble. Today wasn’t shaping up to be any different.
“It’s…” Megan tapped her Easter egg-blue nails against the knob. “One of my customers made a substitution.”
Stella fought the urge to scream. Substitutions. If she could get back all the time she’d spent fighting Ozzy over substitutions she could write the book she’d been dreaming about since college, or at least get out of this damn office before three in the morning.
“Did Ozzy refuse to make it?”
Megan looked up at her with big eyes. “I didn’t put it through yet.”
These chicken-shit college girls they hired for the summer rush. If they didn’t need the help so bad she’d never hire another one.
“What do they want to substitute?”
Megan twisted her blonde hair around her finger. “They want cheddar on their grilled cheese.”
Now Stella understood why the girl had come to her. After Ozzy had sent two flaming—literally—grilled cheese out to a customer who had wanted Gruyère, the whole staff avoided the dish altogether.
Still chicken-shit, but more understandable.
“All right.” Stella rose, setting aside the month’s budget reports—again. “I’ll go tell him.”
A few feet from the kitchen, the air filled with the smell of the Rockshore’s renowned food. Ozzy might be an asshole sent to destroy her life, but he could cook. The Rockshore was seeing profits, no matter how much she loathed to admit it. And outright refused to acknowledge in his presence.
As manager of the Rockshore Tavern and Grill, Stella dealt with a lot of difficult personalities. That was just how it was in Rockshore, Maine, where the elite came to enjoy summers away from the big cities. But the look on Megan’s face showed it could only be one particular personality who would be a thorn in her side today. Ozzy DeMeer, the critically acclaimed chef the owners had forced her to hire. Critically acclaimed pain in my ass. Since the day the man had arrived he’d been nothing trouble. Today wasn’t shaping up to be any different.
“It’s…” Megan tapped her Easter egg-blue nails against the knob. “One of my customers made a substitution.”
Stella fought the urge to scream. Substitutions. If she could get back all the time she’d spent fighting Ozzy over substitutions she could write the book she’d been dreaming about since college, or at least get out of this damn office before three in the morning.
“Did Ozzy refuse to make it?”
Megan looked up at her with big eyes. “I didn’t put it through yet.”
These chicken-shit college girls they hired for the summer rush. If they didn’t need the help so bad she’d never hire another one.
“What do they want to substitute?”
Megan twisted her blonde hair around her finger. “They want cheddar on their grilled cheese.”
Now Stella understood why the girl had come to her. After Ozzy had sent two flaming—literally—grilled cheese out to a customer who had wanted Gruyère, the whole staff avoided the dish altogether.
Still chicken-shit, but more understandable.
“All right.” Stella rose, setting aside the month’s budget reports—again. “I’ll go tell him.”
A few feet from the kitchen, the air filled with the smell of the Rockshore’s renowned food. Ozzy might be an asshole sent to destroy her life, but he could cook. The Rockshore was seeing profits, no matter how much she loathed to admit it. And outright refused to acknowledge in his presence.