Erin Kern - Along Came Trouble

This book seems like it’s been a long time coming. And in a way it has. From start to finish, this one has been a labor of love and especially difficult to get through. And I could not have pulled it off without the help of some very special people. To my husband, who’s always ready to toss in his two cents. I know sometimes he thinks I’m not listening. I promise, I am. To my tireless, hardworking agent, Kristyn Keene. Thank you for always answering my mindless questions and for the brainstorming sessions that got the rusty gears in my head spinning.

And to my invaluable peeps at Grand Central Publishing, specifically my editor, Lauren Plude, who probably never sleeps. Thank you, and to editorial director, Amy Pierpont, for seeing something in this book that even I myself didn’t see. You put the joy back in my writing during those times when it felt like such a chore. Again, I offer my never-ending thanks for your enthusiasm.

DESPITE THE RESTAURANT’S CHAOTIC SPORT-THEMED decor, the waitstaff was efficient, friendly, and brought the entree in a very timely manner. However, I can only assume the reason the food was mediocre is due to the fact that it arrived in less than ten minutes. I’d like to be able to say the appearance made up for the bland, overcooked hamburger and French fries with enough seasoning to set my mouth on fire…’”

Brody leaned back against his desk as his assistant manager, Charlene, lifted her eyes up to his. “And?” he prompted.

Her tongue darted out along her bare lower lip before she continued reading. “ ‘But unfortunately the dish looked just as unsatisfying as it tasted. The hamburger, large enough to feed a small horse, sat on a bun much more suited to a silver dollar. Only about a dozen French fries accompanied the burger, and while most fries tend to please my palate, these weren’t worth eating more than one.’ ” Charlene dropped the magazine down to her lap and sent him a desperate look. He knew the feeling. “Do I have to keep reading this?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off a bitch of a headache. “Yes.”

The magazine trembled when her fingers grasped the pages once again. “ ‘I forced myself to eat as much as I could, hoping to find some redemption, only to get my fifteen ninety-nine worth out of the meal. The only pleasant part was my waitress, who seemed to sense my disdain as she shot me a look of sympathy before carting away my half-eaten meal. The Golden Glove has been a staple of the small town of Trouble, Wyoming, for more than ten years now, but it’s hardly worth the price. On the upside, I was able to catch the game from one of the dozen televisions mounted on the walls. Maybe the owner should have taken the money he spent on forty-six-inch LCD televisions and hired a better chef instead.’ ”

Charlene placed the magazine down with great care on his immaculate desk so as not to add yet another blow to poor Brody’s day. “This is the second bad review we’ve had in six months, Brody.”

His assistant manager was four years younger than he and a force to be reckoned with. She also had a tender streak that ran deep, which wasn’t something she allowed a lot of people to see. Shortly after his divorce, she’d allowed him to see that side of her when she showed up at his house with a bottle of wine and told him he needed to shave. For one weak moment he indulged himself and broke one of his own cardinal rules by sleeping with her. Almost immediately thereafter, they realized they’d made a huge mistake. Granted, the release had been much needed, but they were far better as friends than lovers. Neither one had mentioned that night since. Both were happy to pretend it had never happened. In addition, they’d mutually agreed that they were better off as friends. Working together, and all that.

“Yeah, no shit.” He pushed away from the desk and tried to walk the agitation out of his bones. One bad review was enough to send a restaurant into restaurant hell, but two? He kept reminding himself that these kinds of restaurant reviewers were just freelance writers who couldn’t make it as chefs so they spent their time dogging every restaurant they could. But what were the chances of two different reviewers giving his restaurant such a similarly poor report? And, perhaps more important, his two previous chefs possessed more power to bring the restaurant down than a couple of magazine reviews.

When the Golden Glove had opened eleven years ago, the place had had a line wrapped around the building just to get a seat at the bar. Even though he’d known next to nothing about restaurants, his father had placed him in charge. Brody had stepped in and done the best he could, which had been damn good, if he did say so himself. The Golden Glove had thrived under his leadership for several years. Unfortunately, a series of simultaneous events, including losing their chef and RJ, had caused their numbers to dwindle. Despite his efforts, the Golden Glove was on a downward slide in terms of diners and profits.

In fact, the situation was so dire, if they kept up like this, they’d have to close their doors in six months. The thought created a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, something he’d been dealing with a lot lately. If the Golden Glove went under, not only would all his employees be without jobs, but Brody would lose his meal ticket and his means of taking care of Tyler.

No matter what it took, Brody had to save the restaurant.

“Well, the only good thing is this was written when we had Gary. Now we have Travis.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Brody eased into his chair and leaned his head back. Travis was their third executive chef this year. The man had come highly recommended by a manager of another restaurant in town. The fact that said restaurant had recently closed its doors sent tremors of uncertainty through Brody. Michael, the man who’d been the Golden Glove’s original chef and a freakin’ miracle worker, had left them for the greener pastures of being the executive chef of a major five-star hotel in Los Angeles. Now, Brody wasn’t going to lie to himself; Michael’s departure had rubbed him the wrong way, mostly because the man had been there longer than anyone, and Brody had expected more loyalty. After the sting had worn off, Brody admitted that Michael needed to do what was best for him and his three kids. Then Gary had come strolling in, promising to outshine Michael and put the Golden Glove on the map of great restaurants. After three short months, Brody had shown his incompetent ass the door.

Charlene stood from the chair, grabbed the magazine, and tossed it in the trash can. “That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s probably some loser who has nothing better to do with his time.”

“He’s right though. Gary was a terrible chef. That’s why I fired him.”

She placed her hands on her narrow hips. “I’m trying to make you feel better here. Tell me it’s helping a little.”

Brody stared back at her out of stormy gray eyes. “It’s not helping.”

She plowed fingers through her chin-length black hair. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to ignore this stupid review, go forward with the photo shoot today, and pray this relaunch will put this place back on its feet. Then we’ll show people like that idiot reviewer we’re worth coming back to.” Her legs ate up the expanse of his office.

“You’re awfully confident,” Brody muttered.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’ve completely redecorated, and the place looks way better than it did when it first opened, plus we have new chef.” Then she added, “With a new menu.”