On Mondays, Sugar came to the restaurant early. Well, she always came early every day, but not as early as she did on Mondays. She arrived no later than eight o’clock, despite spending the weekend trying to recover from her thing with Miles. Last night had been unusually busy for a Sunday evening, and she didn’t get home until nearly four o’clock in the morning.

Running on three hours of sleep, an latte from a nearby coffee shop was her guilty pleasure this morning. Sip after sip, it kept her going.

Today was a special Monday for her because she would be conducting interviews.

After much nagging from her parents and siblings, she finally—and very begrudgingly—decided to hire a manager. Early last week, after Mallory drove her crazy complaining about her workaholic ways, she posted some job ads online.

He reasoned that hiring a manager would make her life ten times easier. She reluctantly agreed with him, but she believed her brother was just extra eager because she stopped letting him off the hook for being late or calling out. After too many months of leniency, she now punished him where it mattered most: his bank account. At first, she was scared to dock his pay, fearing he'd see her as a cold, controlling tyrant.

However, Sugar had to remind herself that she’d spoiled Mallory by letting him get away with too much and needed to correct that mistake.

His paycheck now reflected the hours he actually put in, and he wasn’t exactly pleased about it.

Smaller paychecks meant having to prioritize necessities over luxuries, including his little tribe of lady friends. Mallory probably thought that if she focused less on managing and more on being an owner, he could get away with his antics again.

If that was what he truly thought, he was sorely mistaken.

The 9AM interview went fairly well, and Sugar was pleased with the interviewee’s twenty-three years of experience in the restaurant industry, six of which were as a manager. Margret, the interviewee, also had a no-nonsense attitude, which was the perfect weapon for dealing with Mallory’s foolery.

After exchanging goodbyes and smiles, Sugar saw Margret out the door. As she locked up the restaurant again, the office phone behind the lobby desk rang. Rising onto her toes, she retrieved the corded phone from the desk.

“Thank you for calling Sugar Mama. How can we make your day sweeter?” she answered.

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” an all-too-familiar voice drawled.

Her heart fluttered, doubling its pace.

The background noise gave away that Miles was driving somewhere.

“Why are you calling the restaurant?” she asked, hating how she stumbled over her words.

“Because you ain’t answerin’ your cell,” he replied as he turn off the ignition, get out of his car, and shut its door.

“I was busy doing an interview for a management position, so my phone was on silent,” she explained.

“And how did that go?”

“It went quite well, actually,” Sugar admitted. “She made a very good first impression. I think she’d be a great manager, but I don’t want to get too ahead of myself. I have a few more interviews scheduled though in the upcoming days. I want to give everyone a fair chance before I make my final decision.”

“Well, did I make a good first impression this weekend?”

“You’re…” she paused, “different. That’s different.”

He chuckled softly. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hm,” she hummed.

“You wanna know what else I am?” His voice dropped a little, huskier and sprinkled with amusement. She curled her finger around the spiraling phone cord, hanging on to his every word.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed again, a little too eager for her liking.

“Standing at the door,” he replied.

Sugar blinked, her eyebrows scrunching.

Suddenly, three knocks against the glass filled the air, startling her.

She snapped her head toward the entrance door. Outside, Miles stood, waiting to be seen by her. He ended the call and slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Sugar placed the phone back on the hook and nervously walked over to the door, unlocking it. As she did, her confused eyes met his unfaltering gaze.

She hadn’t seen him since he dropped her off at her doorstep the morning after she had shared a bed with him.

She opened the door slowly and gave him a quick once-over. He wore a fitted Marine Corps t-shirt and faded gray jeans. Dark shades rested on his head.

Why did he always look so damn… delicious?

The only odd thing about him was the single pink tulip in a bouquet plastic sleeve that he held in his left hand.

“What’s that?”

“It’s for me,” he said with a slight grin. “I wanted something to bring out the color of my eyes. Do you like it?”

She rolled her eyes at him, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. “You have an impeccable sense of fashion.”

“I’m glad you approve,” he said, clearly entertained by their conversation. “It also doubles nicely as a token of appreciation.”

Sugar blinked. “A token of appreciation?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed deeply, his grin inching wider. “You see, this tulip reminded me of something you gave me that was pretty and pink.”

Her body warmed so quickly she had to swallow back the overwhelming urge to fan her face and neck with her hand.

“I’m a bit old-fashioned,” he said, easing closer. “My grandmama would redden my rear end if she found out I paid a gorgeous woman a visit empty-handed.”

“Then she taught you well,” Sugar said as she accepted the tulip and briefly brushed her nose against the smooth pink petals, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

“You gonna invite me in?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to cause trouble if I do?”

He held his hands up in good faith.

“I promise I’ll be a good boy,” Miles paused, “to the best of my ability, of course.”

He then added, “Plus, how can you say no to a face like this, darlin’?”

Sugar bit back a smile, attempting a stoic expression. “Believe me, it’s easier than you think.”

That was a lie.

A big, fat, damn lie.

She took a step back, widening the entrance door to let him inside.

He gave her a nod of gratitude as he stepped into her restaurant.

Into her sanctuary.

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