matter, either. No more surprises, Emma, okay? At least talk to me first.”
“I did talk to you.”
“And then you ignored what I said.”
“I was right—the customers like a more sophisticated menu.”
“You were. You will be again.” Jimmy straightened. “In fact, you might just be right about everything one hundred percent of the time. But this is my place and what I say goes. Clear?”
Emma lifted her chin. “Yes, sir. Perfectly clear.”
“Thanks. You can keep the salads and the chicken. And the dishes. But that’s as far as we go.”
A minute later, behind the closed door of his office, Jimmy aimed a pencil and sent it flying, straight as an arrow, toward the opposite wall.
Emma was shaking up his world again. Only he wasn’t seventeen anymore. He hadn’t believed in happy-ever-afters since he was eight years old.
And he really hated being tempted to change his mind.
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