Walker
There was a bottle of whiskey in the top drawer of my desk at Charred. Of course, here, I had access to a full bar that kept an inventory of some of the best brands and most-sought-after bottles in the world. But this one was my personal favorite, and at seven thousand a pop, the restaurant didn’t stock it.
I had several more at home, but I didn’t want to wait until I got there to have some.
Home felt like a fucking eternity from now.
So, I opened the drawer, where I also kept a glass, and poured myself several fingers’ worth. I was just bringing the tumbler up to my mouth when there was a knock at my door.
Goddamn it, I just want to be left alone.
My jaw tightened, and my teeth ground as I barked, “Who is it?”
“It’s Rachel.”
I reclined in my chair, the spring allowing me to bounce. “Come in.”
The door cracked, and she stuck her head through the opening, smiling at me. “Can I really come in?”
Rachel knew if she was too chipper, I’d fucking lose it. Her smile was tickling my limit.
“Yes.” I held up my glass. “Want one?”
She took a seat in a chair on the other side of my desk. “I’m afraid I want more than one, and I won’t be able to stop at one, so I’ll pass.”
I nodded, knowing I had zero intention of stopping either. “What’s up?”
“I just want to thank you for agreeing to come in. Tonight went better than I could have imagined.” She rubbed her hands on her legs before she crossed her arms.
“Rachel—”
“I know you didn’t want to. I know you probably didn’t even want to answer my call.” She gave me another grin. “But this place needs you, Walker. There’s no way we could have executed everything we had going on if you hadn’t been here.”
A bolt of anger shot through my chest. “I almost took Keith’s head off.”
Her eyes closed, and I could tell she was taking a deep breath. “And Trish’s. I know. But still … tonight was impressive. It was definitely one for the books. And when I run the numbers tomorrow, when I’m actually able to see straight, I think we’ll be blown away by them.”
What she had said should please me. Her compliments should hit my chest and make me feel something. I should be able to return the sentiment, given that she’d had one hell of a long night and I’d only made things more difficult.
But I felt nothing.
And when I went to respond, only, “I expect that as well,” came out.
JesusChrist.
Was I really that dead inside?
“Go home,” I ordered. “Have all the drinks. We’ll talk numbers tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Her brows lifted. “You don’t mind locking up?”
There were two people in this restaurant who had a key, and they were both in this office.
“I’m sure.”
She got up from the chair. “Thank you, Walker. Have yourself a good evening.” She nodded toward my drink. “And a few more of those.”
I shouldn’t always be so fucking hard on her. She was invaluable to me and this restaurant. But instead of saying that, I gave her a dip of my head, appreciating the moment when the door closed and I was finally alone.
