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Chapter One

Claire Layton readied herself to placate a dragon

Not a real one, of course; that would be easy But if Chef Carlos Alvarez had to be iined as any kind of ani, thick-scaled, roaring, flying beast

The temperamental Guateerator According to his sous chef, Dena, Carlos had screast the heads of ro skinny brown cigars and threatening to walk If the health inspector heard about this, Claire couldn’t i for their food in the dining rooet run out of town on a rail

Why were all chefs headcases? Her ulcer twitched in response to all the drama

Whose stupid idea had it been to offer a gourht of the full moon anyway? Oh yeah, the Full Moon Special had been her brainchild

She swiped a bottle of tropical-flavored antacids from the hostess stand and knocked back the fruity tablets like a Frat boy with a shot of cheap whiskey She prayed Carlos hadn’t yet graduated to rum

Though eager to speed through the dining room in time with her panicked heartbeat, she forced her feet to slon She couldn’t afford to spook the custo her teeth, Claire pasted on a friendly srown up with in Dry Creek, Nebraska

Seating was faht Folks had to drive five hours to Denver for anything close to theHarvest’s Full Moon Specials For the past sixthe full moon, every seat had been taken

But tonight, one chair sat empty at table four

A cute blonde, probably in her early twenties, sat next to the unclaiold charht Claire couldn’t hear what the girl said as she fiddled with a s by the dirty looks the other diners at the table were sending the girl, they’d heard too much

Pausing, she caught a nearby server’s attention “Kaylee, will you bring a bottle of house white to table four?” She pointed toward the girl “They’re starting to look restless and I have to talk Carlos back into the kitchen”

“Sure thing” Kaylee grimaced “Good luck back there”

Straightening her shoulders, Claire girded herself for the battle that awaited her in the walk-in refrigerator Daht?

Six very long hours later, Claire glared at the trail of dark goo winding across the pointed toe of her gunray stiletto Call it Murphy’s Law, fate or just plain old bad luck, but the last bag of kitchen garbage always leaked

“Just great”

Holding the black plastic bag at ar lot as fast as she could in four-inch heels The kitchen crew had left at ht, so at least no one saw her aard rush to the Dumpster

Thank God for small favors

Eager to get hoh Duht in the nose Involuntarily, she recoiled, took a few steps back and held her breath Sure, the garbage had been baking all day in Nebraska’s blazing-hot August sun, but its putrid scent orse than normal

Never again would she e duty as the payoff Carlos had giggled like a tween girl the first night he’d spotted her, the restaurant’s owner, taking out the garbage That had been a week ago