The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo. Michelle Douglas
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her. That cabinet was perfect. She couldn’t have chosen better for her dream café, and—
She straightened, shook herself and followed Rico through to the kitchen.
It was smaller than she’d hoped. ‘Have you had an occupational health and safety check completed yet?’
‘Not yet, why?’ he barked, spinning around. ‘Do you see any potential problems?’
She pointed. ‘Exposed wiring there, there and there...and that power point looks like a fire hazard.’
He swore.
‘I’m not feeling particularly confident about the safety of that ceiling fan either.’
He glared at the ceiling.
‘Still, the ovens look as if they’ll be okay once they’re cleaned up.’ She opened a cupboard door and grimaced as a cockroach scuttled away. ‘It’s far too dark in here, and that’s going to be a real issue. We’ll need strip lighting all the way along here. We need to see properly. I can’t risk anyone’s safety around hot stoves and sharp knives. I wouldn’t risk fully-trained, experienced staff, let alone novices.’
‘The boys will learn!’
‘Of course they will.’ She wiped a finger along a bench and inspected her finger with a grimace. ‘But they’ll learn much quicker and more safely with proper lighting.’
He blew out a breath. ‘That’ll cost a fortune.’
She eased back and folded her arms. ‘Did you ask me here for my honest opinion or to pat you on the back and tell you what a fabulous job you’re doing?’
He stuck out his jaw and glared. She could see that behind the glare he was frantically calculating the budget he had to work with. ‘That peanut rent suddenly makes a lot of sense,’ he growled.
‘How much are you paying?’
He told her and she shrugged. ‘We’re smack-bang in the middle of Hobart’s tourist hub. You’re still getting a great deal.’
He didn’t say anything. She wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.
‘What’s out that way?’
He shook himself. ‘Storeroom, staff bathroom and the back door.’
He led the way, throwing open the storeroom door as he passed. Something furry brushed past her ankles. She let out a little scream.
Rico swung to her. ‘Wha—?’
‘Out the back door. Now!’
She pushed him all the way out into the cement courtyard, then stamped her feet up and down three times and shuddered twice. ‘Yuck!’
Rico stared at her as if she’d lost her senses. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
She stabbed a finger at him. ‘I can deal with mice, and I’m even prepared to take a shoe to a cockroach, but I absolutely and utterly draw the line at rats!’
His face darkened. ‘There aren’t any rats.’
‘Oh, no?’ She pointed behind him. ‘Then what do you call that thing creeping down the back steps?’
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