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“I doubt that’s true,” Kent said, his smugness climbing up another notch. “Honestly, I don’t see what the problem is. I’ve found a way to make the job more efficient without having to alter the menu or prices or anything else you’ve objected to so greatly. I thought you might be pleased.”

Gemma couldn’t respond. Her entire body was trembling with such fury she was struggling to draw breath.

“You might have got your uncle to agree to you staying for a little while, but don’t get comfy. There are only forty days left in this trial, and then you are out of here. You can mark my words.”

She didn’t care that she had shouted at him. That her voice was probably so loud that Mr Jordan and the other customers likely heard. The people who mattered knew what she was really like. They wouldn’t judge her for standing up for herself and this business. In fact, they’d likely thank her.

She turned around, ready to stride out, when he let out a dark chuckle.

“The eight-week trial isn’t for me, Gemma. It’s for you.”

CHAPTER 40

The minute the words left his lips, Kent regretted them. It had been a stupid thing to say, churlish and spiteful and utterly unnecessary, but he was tired of the attacks. Tired of being treated like he was doing something wrong for trying to make the place more money, and tired of the way she didn’t even acknowledge him anymore. Yes, that part definitely got to him more than he liked to admit.

Since the incident with the blackboard, there had been no conversations over morning butties. No, ‘Have a nice evening,’ when he left in the afternoon. She didn’t even look at him when she picked up the food from the kitchen and took it to the tables. It irked him more than was rational. He knew that. He and Sophie got on perfectly well. What did it matter if one colleague didn’t like him? He’d been hated by plenty of employees and employers before and never given a damn about it. But with Gemma, it was different. And if she hadn’t hated him before today, she definitely did now.

“Look, you’ve been thinking with a small business mindset for too long,” he said, trying to make his outburst seem reasonable. “There is a reason that so many small businesses gobust. This place is already earning a fraction of what it should, given its location.”

“Wow.”

She stood there staring at him. Her hands were by her side, and her lips parted as Kent braced himself for the tirade he probably deserved, but nothing more came. Seconds ticked by. One after another and yet she remained silent. ‘Wow?’ What did that mean? Was she commenting on what he just said about the cafe’s earnings or his comment about the eight-week trial? It was impossible to know.

“I assumed you knew…” he started, but his words faded into nothing.

A sheen of tears glinted in Gemma’s eyes.

He needed to apologise. He had to, yet as he went to speak, she finally spoke again.

“You have an order to cook,” she said. “Don’t keep the customers waiting.”

A moment later, she turned around and strode out of the kitchen. Kent stood there with his baked beans burning on the hob and poached eggs boiling over. What the hell had he just done?

CHAPTER 41

Gemma used the walk from Kent to the kitchen door to blink away the tears blurring her sight. She didn’t have time to think about what Kent had just said to her. She had orders to take and customers to help and no one, especially not Kent, was going to see her cry.

It wasn’t what he’d said that hurt her as much as her naivety. Flick had seen the writing on the wall. She had even tried to warn her about it, so why hadn’t Gemma listened? She had been so confident that as long as she was doing a good job, there would be no need for anything to change. But now it had happened. The rug had been pulled out from under her feet, and the knowledge that she hadn’t seen it coming was even worse than Kent pulling the rug. Conceited, arrogant, Kent. God, she could just imagine the way he was laughing to himself in the kitchen as he put pesto on his damn poached eggs.

“Sorry, Gemma dear, did you say I could order normally?”

Gemma’s thoughts snapped back to reality as Mr Jordan spoke. Plastering a smile on her face, she walked over to him.

“Of course you can. You just tell me what you want.”

It was when she headed over to fix him his cappuccino that Gemma saw the paper receipt that had printed out on a little black machine next to the till. The family’s drinks orders.

Gritting her teeth, she picked it up and got to work.

“Are you okay?” Sophie asked when she appeared at ten. “Did something happen? You don’t look great. And why are there all these little bits of paper everywhere?”

Gemma didn’t see any point in beating around the bush. “Did you know about the new tills and ordering QR codes Kent had arranged?”

Sophie frowned. “Is that the thing he wrote about in the email? I only read it last night; I was going to talk to you about it today.”

“Well, it’s already in place,” Gemma said, gesturing to the tables. “The customers are having a nightmare. I’ve managed to print out some of the old menus, but this new till isn’t exactly user-friendly, so you’re just going to have to put everything down manually and take the money, and we’ll try to work it out later.”

“So the QR codes don’t work?”