Local Flavour (Book 1, the Local Flavour Series)

Part 6: Get 'er Done

The morning brought a harsh assault to Lucy's senses. And they say the city's noisy, she thought, blearily opening her eyes. The crash of the waves, a cacophony of birds, boats blasting their horns on the water - it was too much. She was a pillow over her head to try and drown it out. Giving up, she got out of bed and padded her way to the kitchen to start her day. Coffee was mandatory.

It was ungodly early.

She used to run on the beach in the early morning light, back in the day. She had not run in years. Wrapping her hands around her mug, she looked out at the water. It was a beautiful day. "A wide day," her Dad used to say. Maybe? Before she could lose her nerve, she was drained of the last of her coffee, got dressed in a t-shirt, fleece hoodie and winter leggings. She fished some ancient nikes out of her still-unpacked suitcases, grabbed her ipod, plugged her headphones in and started out.

As soon as she got to the beach, she quickly remembered how to cold Port Ross could be, even in early summer. She cursed herself for not throwing on a toque as she began a light jog, the wind stinging her cheeks. After a while, she changed to a sprint. She picked up speed, loving the fresh air and the feeling of being tested again, working out for a reason that did not start with Trent.

The scenery was lush and vibrant; the sun dancing on the water dazzled her eyes. She kept going to the beach, then bound to the back stairs of the cottage for a hot shower.

It was great to make the acquaintance and accomplishment of a run. She forgot what to do in the morning, to check out a goal at the start of the day that did not have to work, or exhaustively pushing for the next level of a relationship. She got out of the shower, fired in her suitcase, and made her way to the kitchen. "Protein-based breakfasts are best," she heard Trent say. He was probably right. She turned up from the fridge, grabbed a croissant and wolfed it down, sending a mental middle finger to her ex-boyfriend.

Just then, her phone rang.

"Screw that dirtbag ex-boyfriend of yours," said her twin.

"Stop reading my mind, Faye!"

"Oh, it's not that hard. And by the way, I'd like to keep talking about Trent, but I do not want to. Say, did you see Chef Handsome McMuscles yet? I put him at the Farmer's Market. He's very tall, very hot, and quite charming. The locals are swooning. Somebody get the smelling salts, everyone's got the vapors! "

"Give me a break." Lucy laughed at Faye's picture of people in the city at the sight of the famous host. She could barely remember what he looked like. All she remembered about him was a general disdain for humanity and a smart mouth. She had more than enough bossy men. Total turnoff. She remembered that face, though. And those shoulders.

"Have you even seen Canada's Worst Restaurant ?" Faye said.

"A bit. The guy goes around yelling at everyone and telling them how terrible they are. I'm really in the mood for that. "

"He's not the one who yells. You're thinking of the other chef. The shouty one. "

"Oh my God, I do not care. I have more to worry about than him. I'm heading to the restaurant now, before going to town. I'm dreading this. I could just kill Dad. "

"Well, look on the bright side. With any luck you'll save the restaurant and get a bonus. You could bang him in the kitchen. "

"Faye!" Her sister had lost her mind. "Pretty sure that's against the rules of the contest. Plus, he's probably happily married to a model with a house full of impossibly beautiful children. " As if some famous, hot guy would never give me a second look.