“There might be an opening at CHOPs.”

Todd is a sous chef at CHOPs, a high-end steak house owned by a popular chef, Davis Morgan. CHOPs would be by far the most expensive restaurant I’ve ever worked at. Olive Garden was a step up for me, and it’s the most recent company to put me on the unemployment line.

“Todd, I’ve never worked anywhere like that.” The thought of the tips makes my mouth water.

“You bartended at Gilroy’s, right?”

“That’s a dive bar.”

“It’s experience.”

“Subpar.”

“I’m going to text you my general manager’s number. His name is Shawn. Call him. He’s expecting it.”

Click. The line silences.

I pull the phone from my ear and find a blank screen.

A text pops up ten seconds later.

I inhale a deep breath and stare at the magazine ad again. My day job at Art on Wells doesn’t cut it. I need a second job to find this kind of money. I dial Shawn’s number before thinking too hard and press the green button.

Two Days Later

I scramble to grab my purse, coat, and keys before rushing out the door. Punctuality isn’t my thing. My pulse quickens due to Todd’s tapping foot on the concrete outside my door. I tilt my head, shooting my puppy eyes to him with the hope that he’ll forgive me. My lips droop when his lighthearted smile doesn’t emerge.

He’s fuming. “Shit, Noodle. When I agreed to walk with you to work, I assumed we’d be on time. Maybe you should try to make a good impression on your first day.”

I swing my apartment door shut and shove my arms through my coat sleeves. My keys slip out of my hand, landing with a thud on the ground. We both bend down to retrieve them, and our heads nearly collide. The tips of my fingers brush the metal, but he swipes them off the concrete floor. I straighten up, and he’s swaying them back and forth, like a pendulum, in front of my face.

“I can’t afford to lose my job, and my word is on the line,” he reminds me for the millionth time since he vouched for me, and I grab the keys from him.

“I know. Don’t worry. I’m sorry for being late. The Nightmare of Wells Street demanded her afternoon latte before I could be dismissed for the day.” I hurriedly turn the key in the lock, straighten my bag on my shoulder, and jog down the stairs alongside Todd.

He knows my boss, Bette Weston, too well from her prying eyes and lingering touches when he came by Art on Wells one time.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can handle her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she promised to look at my photos—which contain my number one prime specimen—and would consider booking me for a show, I’d most likely quit.”

I smack his ass right before we exit our apartment building. He sidesteps me and narrows his eyes with a smirk.

“You’re pretty damn lucky to have obtained a model this mouth-watering.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Over the horns honking and taxis whizzing by as we cross the street, Todd yells, “Am I invited to the showing?”

We weave through the swarms of people coming toward us.

I hate weekends in the city. All the tourists linger on every corner, too busy staring up rather than looking at what’s in front of them. I much prefer the workweek hustle with determined people with earbuds in place and coffee in hand. Their minds might be somewhere completely different than where they are going to work the grind, but being on autopilot enables them to arrive where they need to be.

“We’ll see. You’re a distraction.”

He captures my hand and moves us faster through the crowd.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “With my flirting, those rich housewives will be buying your pictures like they’re the latest Louis Vuitton,” he jokes.

It’s the truth, though. Between the last two mini galleries that spotlighted me, the one Todd attended sold twice as much as the other.

We stop and wait for the light to change, and I catch my breath.

“What would I do without you, my arrogant accomplice?” I hit his shoulder.

He inches toward me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “You’d be poor. Oh, shit, you already are.”

He laughs and steps away before my punch can land on his arm. The light changes, and everyone around us moves like a herd of cows across the street. My body buzzes with alarm. Todd’s sweet touches have become more common lately, and I wish I didn’t enjoy them. Guys like Todd are not the forever kind. He’s made that clear.

“Speaking of which, tell me about my new boss.” I divert my mind from my lingering thoughts of him as something more than friends.

We’re only a few streets away, and butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. I hate being the new kid, and restaurants are a lot like high school. If you don’t achieve cool status as quickly as possible, you’ll be on the outside of the gossip circle.

“Davis?” he questions.

“No, the Pope.” I stop in my tracks and raise my eyebrows at him. “Yes, Davis.”

Todd glances at his watch and back at me. I instantly appease him and put one foot in front of the other. We have five minutes until we should be punched in and present for the team meeting.

“He’s alright. With fall approaching, he’s planning on being more present. He wants to revamp the menu.” Todd’s voice sounds more annoyed, and his eyes roll.

“That’s good. Any bitches or pricks I need to watch my back with?” I check traffic before dodging cars.

“No, everyone’s pretty cool. I think you’ll fit in fine.” He winks and holds the restaurant door open.

My breathing stops as I absorb my surroundings. Half-circle booths with dark chocolate leather benches fill the north wall, and the tables are wrapped in ivory linen tablecloths with matching napkins. Water glasses, wine glasses, butter plates, and silverware rest at each place setting on every square table. The mixture of dark wood and crimson walls along with a gold-yellow ceiling brings a sense of comfort over the space.

Shit, I’d better up my game here.

“Uh-hum,” Todd draws my attention back to him. He’s halfway across the room, waiting for me.

“Sorry.” I scurry over. “It’s gorgeous,” I compliment, still in awe that I’m working at a place so high-end.

“You haven’t even seen the back yet. It’s where all the action happens.” He slyly smiles.

“Maybe for you, but this is where the bills get paid.” I brush my hand over the long mahogany bar top.

Todd rolls his eyes. “Don’t embarrass me, please,” he begs.

I laugh and he joins me, knowing I most likely will.

Our laughter stops when we open the door to the employee locker room, and every face points in our direction. Girls and guys hold curious eyes, blatantly staring toward us, and those butterflies I’d been feeling wilt and drop to the pit of my stomach.

Great first impression, Amelia.

“Hey, guys. This is Noodle, the new bartender.” Todd tosses his thumb my way and deserts me for his locker.

“Amelia,” I mumble.

A few nods and soft hellos fill the room while my new coworkers button their white shirts and wrap their black aprons around their waists.

“Here you go.” A soft voice pulls me from my uneasiness of being the new kid on the block.

I look to my left and find a taller blonde-haired girl holding a stack of black clothing in her hands.

“Oh, thank you.” I take my uniform from her arms. “I’m Lia,” I introduce myself while eyeing the strings of the apron to judge their length. My dilemma of not being a size-six girl is, Will it fit?

“I know. I’m Lucy,” she introduces herself. “Waitress,” she states as she situates her belongings in her locker.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Her long, blonde hair is braided to the side, and her natural makeup complements the softness of her features. She’s one of those people you instantly feel like is a childhood best friend.