hopeless romantic • taylor swift

CHAPTER TWO

TAYLOR

Austin walked through the swinging door that connected the kitchen to the restaurant. "And here is the kitchen. Isn't it awesome?" he asked over his shoulder.

Monroe stepped out from behind Austin, and I had to do a double take. Her blonde hair was wavy and looked like a waterfall as it cascaded just past her breasts. The bright lighting showed how blue her eyes were. Her cheeks were slightly rosy and her soft lips a pale pink.

Well... fuck.

I was in deep shit.

It was the same woman I met yesterday, but she looked drastically different from the frazzled, exhausted mother who'd moved into my loft. Monroe was... stunning. She was beautiful yesterday, even with the bruise-like bags under her eyes. But today her beauty was distracting. Troublesome.

I didn't have time for trouble.

Especially when it came to my new tenant.

My knife quickly sliced through a batch of cilantro, my hand moving in a fast blur as I focused on my task instead of on this pretty distraction in my kitchen.

"If the fridge in the break room is ever full, you can put your lunch in this one," Austin said, motioning to the large, walk-in.

Wait. What? The knife fell out of my hand, nearly cutting a finger in the process. No one ever kept their lunch in here. Not even my waitstaff. Granted, they never brought meals because I always cooked for them, but... still. That walk-in was off limits.

Austin knew that it was off-limits. Except my amazingly annoying brother seemed intent on forcing Monroe into every part of my life. Wasn't moving her into my home enough? Now my kitchen?

"Okay." Monroe nodded, looking around the room, looking everywhere but where I was standing.

"Here's the ice maker." Austin walked to the cooler, opening it. "Help yourself."

"All right," Monroe murmured as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She promised me yesterday to be quiet. I guess that meant at work, too.

I glanced at Austin, then jerked my head to the door. This tour was over. This was a kitchen. Just a normal kitchen with bright lights and shiny appliances. And I was busy. This was my alone time.

But did Austin take the hint and leave?

Of course not. He leaned against my table, invading my space. Why the fuck was he leaning?

I clenched my jaw and picked up my knife, gripping the handle so hard my knuckles turned white. Normally I would've just told Austin to get the hell out, but I was being nice today. Very nice.

This same niceness was the reason I'd agreed to let Monroe and her son crash in the loft above my garage. My brother asked me for a favor, and right now, I was granting them. Soon enough, I was going to have to tell him off. A conversation I'd been dreading and avoiding at all costs. One that would impact my relationship with my brother.

Until that conversation, I would let him invade my kitchen and allow his newest hire to stay at my house.

"So that's the whole hotel," Austin told Monroe.

"It's beautiful," Monroe said.

"Taylor renovated the kitchen and restaurant last winter."

"Ah." Monroe nodded, still looking anywhere but me.

The room fell into silence, the only noise being my knife cutting the cilantro.

My parents owned the actual hotel, but the restaurant and kitchen were mine, and the giant library was Austin's.