“Is it a full moon?” Molly asked,stretching her neck out the window. “People are cranky tonight.”
I looked back at my fryer andbatter-covered station. It hadn’t just been the complaining customers that madethe night difficult. I had been overly ambitious trying to fry chicken freshandmake hot waffles for every order. I’dbeen bouncing around the narrow space all night like a pinball. “Lessonlearned, Durham. No more chicken and waffles for you.”
“How about one more?”
I spun around, surprised to seeKillian at the window. His gaze moved over me, quick, assessing, amused.
I brushed my hand down my front,realizing how disheveled I must have looked. My white chef’s jacket was coveredin grease and syrup andsriracha. I had been fightingmy bandana for hours, pulling clumps of batter out of wayward hair thatwouldn’t stay tucked away.
He had worked tonight too. But in awhite t-shirt that hugged his tattooed arms and low slung black pants, helooked tired, but not like he’d spent hours in the kitchen slaving away.
More like he’d had a grueling dayshooting Armani underwear ads.
“No.” I hadn’t meant to sound soserious, but he was pissing me off already, and he’d just got here. I didn’thave the energy to listen to him pick apart my dish. I already knew it wasn’t akeeper.
He laughed, but it was unsure andnervous. “Excuse me?”
I shook my head and tried one moretime to muster up manners. “No, you can’t have one.”
Killian stepped closer to the orderwindow, peering inside. “Hey, Molly,” he said as an afterthought.
“Hi.” She stood up, taking a stepback from the window. Killian made her nervous.
He made me nervous too. But he alsopissed me off. Usually, the anger canceled out the nerves.
His attentive gaze found mine again.“Rough night?”
I resisted the urge to kick thestove. “Chicken and waffles,” I sighed. “I should have known better.”
I could have sworn his lipstwitched, but it was hard to tell since they were hidden behind that beard.“Let me try.”
“No.”
“Can I come back there?”
“Why? So you can fix everything?Make it better and remind me how much I suck?” The words tasted like vinegar,whiney and self-pitying.
“Geez, you’re in a mood tonight. Itcan’t be that bad.”
I turned away from him, pulling atowel down to start wiping up the counter. “It’s fine,” I said to the hardballs of batter that had crusted on the stainless steel.
His voice dropped to a low murmur ashe addressed Molly. “How bad was it?”
“Mean customers,” Molly explained.“That last guy was a real jerk.”
Embarrassment sharp and stingingsliced through me. It wasn’t that I cared about Molly or Killian’s opinion ofme. But it bothered me that I cared at all, that a few harsh words had upset meso completely.
The door opened, and Killian steppedinside uninvited. His footsteps echoed around the space while neither Molly norI moved.
I wanted to remind him that hewasn’t invited. That I didn’t want him in here, but I couldn’t find the courageto even look at him. If I would have been closer to the pick-up window, I wouldhave jumped out of it by now and ran away.
Never to be heard from again.
“I hate bad reviews. I mean, Ireallyhate them. I don’t think there’sa single other thing I hate, actually.” He stepped up next to me, his wordshonest, but his tone gentle. “Except maybe eggplant. I also hate eggplant.”
I stilled, remembering his reactionto my Yelp review. It wasn’t hard to imagine just how much he hated negativefeedback. Even the joking kind.
He’d walked over so he could standright at my side, not touching, but close enough that his presence invadedevery single one of my senses, burrowing so deep I felt him in my blood, mybones… my breath.
