My abrupt hysteriapropelled me forward a step. “You don’t have to do that—”
“Vera, whatever that shit was withHanover, was not cool. I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”
“What about your kitchen?”
“Fuck the kitchen.” He rubbed a handover his face, trying to calm down. “Besides, why do I hire the best sous chefsin the city if I can’t count on them to handle one goddamn night for me? Cleanup. I’ll be back.”
He didn’t wait for my reply. Whichwas fine since I didn’t have one to give him.
I looked to Wyatt with wide eyes,desperate for him to save me.
Instead of sympathy, he grinned likethe cat that ate the canary. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
I glared at him. “Well, you’re nothelping.” But I was afraid he was right.
Chapter Eighteen
Killian came back a half hour laterjust like he promised. He stalked across the street like an angry lion about topounce on some poor, unsuspecting gazelle.
And I was the gazelle.
“What’s Killian like to work with?”I asked Wyatt while Killian waited on cars to move out of his way.
Wyatt stood at my stove, scrubbingit until it looked better than when it had been brand new. He didn’t cutcorners or tackle the easy jobs. He went straight for the cooktop. That saidsomething about the standard of work he was used to.
He kept scrubbing when he answeredmy question. “He’s an absolute dictator. He requires nothing less than utterperfection all the time. He’s not afraid to get in your face and yell. And herefuses to send anything out that isn’t up to his insane standards.”
I glared at his back. “You loveworking for him.”
He shot me a playful smile over hisshoulder. “He’s the best, Vera. Yeah, he knows it, which makes him an asshole.But he can also back it up. I might plot his death in my head sometimes, butwhat I’ve learned in his kitchen is invaluable. I couldn’t get that experienceworking for anyone else.”
“There are other great chefs.”
He tilted his head back and forth,deliberating. “Fine, I don’t want this experience from anybody else. He’s thekind of chef I want to grow into. His style, his food, his command of thekitchen. I think it would be hard to find anyone that can rival him.”
“God, just marry him already and getit over with.”
He laughed at my lame joke andturned back to the stove. “Not that you wouldn’t be fun to work with too, V.But I doubt you’d whip everyone into shape quite like Quinn. I swear there arehandprints on my ass when I leave there every night.”
“First of all, you’re ridiculous.Second of all, I don’t have room in my itty bitty kitchen to do any whipping.”He grunted a laugh. I’d lost all will to take care of my own stuff. It was somuch easier to have Wyatt do it for me. “I didn’t mean to sound jealous by theway. I was so not comparing myself to Killian. I mean, there’s not even acomparison there. He’s, you know, him. And I’m just me.”
He didn’t look up. “Whatever yousay, Vera.”
Killian approached the truck, so Istopped talking. I needed to open the door for him, but I couldn’t make myselfmove.
Nerves skittered through me. Mybelly flipped, and my feet refused to move.
He scared me. Granted, it wasn’t inthe same way that Derrek did, not even close. But I still couldn’t let myselftrust him. To trust him meant I had to be vulnerable, meant allowing him spacein my life, giving him the ability to hurt me.
I knew,I just knew, that if I gave Killian that power, he wouldn’t take alittle bit. He would take as much as he could. He would pull and pull and pulland demand everything I had.
And then when he hurt me? Itwouldn’t be a small thing. It would be complete and total destruction.
His knuckles rapped against thedoor, punctuating the frantic beat of my heart with a harshtaptaptap. When I didn’t move, Wyatt did. He flicked open thedeadbolt and stepped back to make room for Killian.
The tiny kitchen felt even smallerwith the two of them taking up so much space. Killian looked around like he’dnever been here before, absorbing every detail with his sharp gaze.
“What do you have left to do?” heasked.
