Saved by the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 3)

by Whitley Cox

  21

  Humming in time with the music playing in the studio, Paige placed more canapes on the tray in her kitchen. Her belly rumbled, and that’s when she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Too worried about making sure everyone else had enough food, she forgot to take care of herself.

  “No time like the present,” she murmured, cramming a canape into her mouth and giggling at her puffy cheeks.

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  She leapt about ten inches off the floor at the sound of a familiar voice behind her.

  Tristan.

  As happy as Paige had been all day at the success of Mitch’s opening, and the crowds enjoying her food, she couldn’t mistake the weird niggling sensation that had been going on at the back of her neck all day. As if there was someone out to get her, plotting. Planning to ruin their night in some way. She’d been on alert all night, watching the door for signs of Marcy and any one of her minions, because who was she kidding? If there was anyone who was out for Paige’s blood, out to ruin her, it was Marcy Thibodeaux.

  Paige knew they weren’t finished, not by a long shot.

  Thankfully, though, it wasn’t Marcy at the door. It was Tristan.

  Paige spun around, her mouth still full of food, to find her former boss and friend standing there all tanned and freckled with a big smile on his face.

  As happy as she was to see him, she still had a bone to pick with him as well. Once her mouth was empty, she would do just that.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” Tristan said, stepping into the kitchen, his arms open wide for a hug. “But when Jill told me you were finally opening up your own place, I had to fly back up and see it for myself.”

  Chewing as she walked, Paige stepped into the arms of her friend. Her family.

  Once they’d hugged for a few seconds and she’d chewed and swallowed her food, she pulled out of his arms and swatted him on the chest. “What the hell, man? You couldn’t have called and told me you were leaving?”

  Regret stained his face, and his amber eyes tilted downward toward his shoes. “I know. I fucked up.”

  “Yeah, you did. You were fired by the she-devil, and you didn’t even call to tell me. Didn’t even call to tell me you were taking off down to Mexico to lick your wounds. I thought we were closer than that. I thought we were family.”

  He nodded, lifting his head and fixing her with a look that said he knew he’d fucked up and was currently beating himself up repeatedly for it. “I know. I just … when she fired me, I went into a dark place. I loved that restaurant. It was my family. My blood, my sweat, my tears, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. A buddy of mine owns a restaurant down in San Felipe, and he invited me to come down for a couple of months to bartend for him. I just needed to get away, regroup and figure out where I want to go from here.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

  He ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair. “I want to come back and work in the restaurant industry in Seattle again. I miss the vibe. The camaraderie.”

  You’d never know that Tristan was on the upper end of his mid-forties. The man looked good for his age and took care of himself. It also helped that he had very few wrinkles and boyish freckles across his cheeks, nose and forehead that made him appear younger than his passport would reveal. Many a woman in the restaurant, both on the front end and in the kitchen, had lusted after him over the years. But as far as Paige knew, he’d never crossed the line, never abused his position as the boss.

  His lips thinned into a flat line as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a piece of paper he’d folded in half lengthwise. He handed it to her. “Ms. McPherson, my name is Tristan Green, and I would like to apply for a job, if you have any openings.”

  Paige took his resume with a small laugh, not even bothering to open it. “I’m still looking for a restaurant manager, somebody to oversee my front-end staff, help with scheduling and booking catering gigs. I also need someone who can manage catering waitstaff. Do you have any management experience?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he lifted one shoulder. “A little bit, but what I lack in experience, I make up for in enthusiasm and willingness to learn. I’m a great team player.”

  Paige grinned. “I like your can-do attitude, Mr. Green. When can you start?”

  “How about right now? You look famished. Eat something and let me finish plating these things.” He stepped around her and went to the big stainless-steel sink at the back to wash his hands. “I haven’t managed to try anything yet, just got here, but I can only imagine they’re all incredible.”

  He dried his hands and joined her at the counter, where she had already shoved another two canapes into her mouth. He picked one up and took a bite, his eyes going buggy and his full mouth splitting into a big grin. They both had full mouths, but his nod and thumbs-up said he approved.

  Paige rubbed his back as a thank you, her mood bolstered even more than before by the return of an old friend. She knew that Tristan was going to be the perfect addition to their growing Lilac and Lavender family. His management skills were incredible, he had loads of contacts, and he was a damn hard worker. With him on their team, they couldn’t lose.

  She was about to pop one more canape into her mouth when Jane’s voice at the door had her pausing her bite and turning around. “Uh, Paige. You might want to get out here. An uninvited, unwanted guest has just arrived.”

  “Who?”

  “One guess.”

  And drop went the other shoe.

  Paige shoved down all the other emotions clamoring for attention inside of her, releasing the only emotion that truly mattered—pity.

  Careful not to put too much of a march into her step, she made her way toward Marcy, her head high, shoulders back, nerves somewhat under control.

  This wasn’t high school anymore.

  Marcy wasn’t her boss anymore.

  Marcy had no power over her.

  Marcy had no power.

  “Paigey,” Marcy said, her lips, the color of fresh blood, turning up into a sneer. “What a cute little party. You had to throw your own because you were never invited to any in high school. Poor little Paigey McFatson, always excluded from what the popular kids were doing.”

  Paige smiled back. “Thank you, but it’s Paige. You will call me Paige. And you know my last name, so use it properly if you’re going to use it at all.”

  Marcy’s back went ramrod-straight, her glare ferocious, but Paige wasn’t backing down. Paige’s daughter was here. She needed to show Mira that her mother didn’t buckle to a bully, didn’t let herself be walked all over. Mira needed to know that her mother was a strong woman, a woman she could be proud of.

  She cocked her head to the side and studied Marcy’s face. The woman was painted up and decked to the nines in designer clothes and accessories. She probably sported nearly ten thousand dollars’ worth of apparel on her slight frame.

  “You can put a dog turd in a Tiffany’s bag, doesn’t make it a diamond ring,” her father used to say.

  Marcy Thibodeaux was living proof of that.

  Finally, after enjoying the slight tick of unease to Marcy’s smoky-shadowed left eye, Paige spoke again. “This party was invitation-only, Marcy, and you were most definitely not invited. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Marcy’s cold blue eyes narrowed at Paige. “Was it now? Huh.” Ignoring Paige, she began to wander around the gallery, the look on her face unreadable as she took in all the photos of Paige blown up and hung on every wall. “Photographer a fan of yours? Did he run out of models? Or was he just too cheap to pay them and you offered to do it for free? Anything for attention, right?”

  “You need to leave,” Paige repeated again, this time throwing a bit more edge to her voice.

  Marcy stopped where she stood, turned and pinned her gaze on Paige, her face smug. “No.”

  Heat at Paige’s back and a hand at her waist told her Mitch w
as behind her. “You’ve got this,” he murmured.

  Once again, Marcy’s mouth slid up into the smile of an evil queen. Only the difference was Marcy only thought she was a queen.

  She needed to be enlightened.

  She needed to be dethroned.

  “Marcy,” Paige started, causing the woman’s already hard eyes to turn to stone. “This is not high school, and I no longer work at Narcissus. You are not the popular girl making my life difficult. You are no longer my boss making my job unbearable. You’re a nobody.”

  Marcy made a scoffing sound at the back of her throat.

  Paige cut her off. “I suggest you leave quietly to save yourself some humiliation before you do something you’re going to regret. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t even hate you. You have no power over me. You have no power.”

  Rage flashed in Marcy’s eyes, and her mouth opened just slightly.

  Paige kept going. “What I do, however, is pity you.”

  Marcy’s eyes went wide.

  “I pity that you feel even now, nearly twenty years later, that you still need to bully people. You still need to put people down to make yourself feel better. That this is how you go about each and every day, looking to victimize in order to legitimize yourself.”

  She didn’t need to see them to know that she had more than just Mitch at her back now. She felt their strength, their support, their power. The entire studio had also gone dead quiet.

  “I’m sorry that you hated me all through school because I had parents who loved me, who were there for me and supported me. I’m sorry that you hated me because I worked hard and got good grades, that I earned the praise I received from teachers. I’m sorry that people liked me because I was nice to them, because I treated them like human beings with feelings and heart. Most of all, I’m sorry you felt the need to torture me every day to make yourself feel better. That humiliating another person was the only way you could feel happy inside. I’m sorry that you were and continue to be that broken.”

  A few murmurs behind and around them made Marcy’s eyes dart up from Paige’s and scan the room. Heat had flooded the woman’s high cheekbones, and her nostrils began to flare.

  Paige wasn’t finished. Marcy had come to Paige, and Paige was finally going to let her have it.

  “You made my life a living hell for twelve years. I had to leave the country to escape your torment and the rumors you started about me. But that was also a very long time ago, and we’ve all changed.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, at least most of us have. Most of us are no longer stuck in the past, desperate to hang on to the status and fear we once demanded. What you haven’t seemed to learn is that fear makes power brittle. Those who feared you also loathed you. You were not popular because you were well liked; you were popular because people feared you. Well, not anymore. Nobody fears you. All they do is pity you. I pity you. I pity you and your inability to grow and evolve and let go of who you once were and become somebody better. You had that chance over the last fifteen years, and you wasted it.

  “This is my place of business, a celebration with family and friends. Of which you are neither. I don’t owe you a damn thing. So unless you would like to be forcibly removed by the authorities, I suggest you turn around and leave through the same door you came in.”

  Paige had been wrong. That wasn’t rage she saw glimmering in Marcy’s eyes earlier. No, that was nothing compared with the sheer loathing she was regarding Paige with now. Everything inside Paige screamed at her to turn and run. Everything but her heart. Her love for herself.

  She loved herself too much to let this woman break her down again.

  Paige had had enough.

  “I came here to let you know you’ll be hearing from my lawyers,” Marcy muttered through gritted teeth.

  Of course, on all the days she could ambush Paige.

  What a bitch.

  Paige fought back a laugh. “On what grounds?”

  “You poached four of my staff members.”

  “I’m Ms. McPherson’s attorney,” Liam said, having somehow emerged at Paige’s side. “And you can have your lawyer send all correspondence my way.”

  Oh, snap!

  Marcy had not been expecting that.

  It paid to have friends in high places.

  Paige kept her smile in check before turning to Liam. “Thank you, Liam, but that won’t be necessary. If Marcy bothered to check my very detailed contract, she would see that there is no mention of a noncompete clause in there. I was free to bring any staff members I wanted along with me whenever I left. It wasn’t my fault the staff members were more loyal to me than they were to their new boss. It’s not my fault that Marcy here is—”

  “Up shit creek without a paddle,” Paige’s father finished.

  Oh, Dad!

  “Precisely.”

  Marcy’s face resembled a pomegranate. The woman was about to explode.

  “I’ve called the police,” came a voice behind them. “They’re on their way to escort the trespasser off the premises.” Paige turned around to find Jane waving her phone in the air, a giant smile on her face.

  All eyes turned back to Marcy. The woman looked like she was going to be sick.

  “This isn’t over,” she growled, her eyes flicking around the room to all the people that had Paige’s back, all the people that loved her and that she loved.

  Paige took a step toward her and did a small happy dance inside when Marcy took a step back. Paige got right up in Marcy’s face, enjoying the unease in the woman’s once-fierce eyes. “Oh, but it is over, Marcy. I’m over you. I’m done with you. Your reign as queen has finally come to an end. Now leave before you’re made to leave.” Then she turned around and showed the woman her back, never turning around, never even caring how she left, whether it was on her own or by police force, because Marcy Thibodeaux no longer mattered.

  Marcy Thibodeaux was nobody.

  22

  A few hours later, only the stragglers remained. Paige’s parents had taken Mira and Jayda home so the girls could have a sleepover, Violet and Adam had left as Violet was exhausted and feeling gross, and most of the invitees had thanked Mitch and Paige and then made their exit.

  All that remained was the kitchen staff; their bartender, Mitch’s friend from high school and soon-to-be-father, Mason; and a bunch of The Single Dads of Seattle.

  “Did you call the cops back and tell them they were no longer needed?” Mitch asked Jane as they all sat around the studio on chairs drinking beer and listening to Mason strum his guitar.

  Jane’s smile was devious. “I never called anybody, but that dumb bitch didn’t know the difference. The look on her face when I said the police were on their way will forever be one of my all-time favorite moments. I should have taken a picture of it and made it the wallpaper on my phone.” She looped an arm around Paige’s shoulder. “Of course getting hired by the Paige McPherson to work at her new kick-ass restaurant is the best moment in my life, but getting the best of Marcy Thibodumb was a close second.” She tipped back her beer and finished it, then wiped the back of her wrist over her mouth. “I’m going to bolt. The mean boss lady wants us here tomorrow at a ridiculous oh nine hundred, so I need to get my beauty rest.” She pulled Paige in and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Love you, mean boss lady, to the moon and fucking back.”

  Paige rolled her eyes and laughed. “Love you too, Janey Boo.”

  Jane pulled her arm away and fixed Paige with a mock glare. “It’s Jane, and you will call me Jane.”

  The room erupted into laughter as Jane and the other three staff members gathered their things and bid their adieu.

  “You’ve got some great employees,” Mark said, his arm casually draped around Tori’s shoulder. “They were all very professional and friendly the whole night.”

  Paige smiled and snuggled into Mitch’s side. “Thanks. I think they’re pretty amazing too.”

  “What have you decided on for your logo?” Tori asked. “I k
now your name is The Lilac and Lavender Bistro, but are you putting those flowers on all your stuff?”

  Paige nodded. “I’d like to. I haven’t found a graphic designer I like yet, which is stressing me out because we open really soon. I have these ideas percolating around in my mind about what I’d like the logo to look like, and when I explain it to the designers, they say they get it, but when I see what they mock up, I don’t care for it.” She shook her head with a big sigh. “I’m probably just overly picky. Or what I want is impossible.”

  “My sister is a graphic designer,” Tori said. “She’s amazing. Reasonable too, as she’s just trying to get her business up and running.”

  Paige sat up. “Really? Can you give me her contact info? I’d love to help out a local artist and a fellow start-up. Us entrepreneurs need to stick together.”

  Tori brought out her phone, and seconds later Paige’s phone vibrated in her pocket. “I just sent you all of Isobel’s contact info and her website. Ignore the stuff on the side about her dog-walking business. She’s also a nanny, though her family just bailed on her last week, so she’s looking for another gig.”

  “A real Jack of all trades,” Mitch said with a chuckle. “Or I guess Jacklin of all trades.”

  Tori nodded. “The girl has always had three or four jobs on the go. Never sits still, works her ass off. I don’t know the last time she had a full day off. But she likes it that way.”

  Liam, who had been unusually quiet in the corner, given how chatty he’d been with Paige earlier in the evening, suddenly sprang up from his seat and plastered his phone to his ear. “Hello?” He wandered off to the other side of the gallery, a worried look on his handsome face.

  All the single dads in the group exchanged concerned looks.

  Scott, Liam’s brother, stood up and wandered over to Liam but made sure to stand back a touch, as Liam’s eyes were suddenly teeming with tears.