Ihid my wince at the harsh tone of his voice. “No, I already have it off. I wantto make sure I keep it off.”
“Hey,if you’re not on the schedule, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Yousay that…” I braved his gaze and let him see the nerves I wasn’t successful athiding. “But I haven’t had a day off in maybe a month. A little over a month?”
Hisjaw ticked. “Are you complaining?”
Iswallowed. “Not formally.”
Hishead dipped and if he was anyone else, I would have sworn it was to hide asmile. “Okay, so you want Sunday night off. Got it.”
“Thanks.”
“Imean, it’s one of our busiest nights, but if you don’t feel obligated to comein, I suppose I can’t make you.”
Thecooler was dark, lit only by a few bulbs not bright enough to reveal if therewas a twinkle in his devilish eyes or if I was imagining it. Was he teasing me?Or was he serious?
“Ihave other plans,” I said neutrally. “Or I would be here. You know I would behere.”
“Sure.It’s fine. You’re allowed to do other things besides work.”
Ishrugged. “We both know that’s not true.” One of his eyebrows lifted and Icould tell he was preparing for a fight. “Not because you’re a slave driver.Although you are. It just comes with the territory. This is what we signed upfor.”
Wyattran a hand over his face and nodded. “I guess it is.” He turned back to thecooler shelves and started moving things around, organizing them where theyshould be located on the shelves. It was amazing how quickly things got out oforder here. By nature, we were all meticulous and anal with our equipment. Butone hectic dinner service shot our best intentions to shit. Someone had clearlyforgotten their cooler duties last night.
Ihoped it wasn’t me.
“Thanksagain, Wyatt. I’ll be here every other night this weekend.” I smiled at theback of his head. “You can count on me.”
Helooked back at me over his shoulder. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
Istood there longer than was socially acceptable, holding his gaze and wonderingwhat the hell to say. He’d never said thank you before. He’d never shown anyacknowledgment that he even noticed I was going above and beyond for him.
“You’redoing a good job.” The words were out of my mouth before I could swallow them.There was just something so vulnerable in the way he was looking at me. And thebags beneath his eyes seemed blacker and bigger than yesterday, and he hadn’tyelled at any of us about the cooler. Instead, he was in here organizing it.This wasn’t his job. He was the head chef. He wasn’t supposed to stoop as lowas this.
Hiseyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“Withthis.” I spread my arms, gesturing to the cooler, the kitchen, this fuckingenormous job he had. “With Lilou.”
“Youdon’t have to—”
“I’mnot,” I assured him. “I’m not saying that to make you feel better. You’re doingthe best you can. And it turns out that the restaurant hasn’t burned to theground yet, and we’re still booked solid for the next four months, and youhaven’t made anyone cry in at least three weeks. Wyatt, you don’t suck atthis.”
Halfhis mouth lifted in a slow smile, and a rogue butterfly took flight low in mybelly. And it must have been on fire, because the quick heat that spreadthrough my body made me lightheaded.
Obviously,that was the butterfly’s fault.
“Sixmonths,” he murmured in a low rumble.
“Huh?”
“We’rebooked out for the next six months.”
Itried my best to keep my expression neutral, but my traitor eyes bugged, and myeyebrows rose, giving me away. I cleared my throat and desperately grappled forsarcasm. “There. See. I told you so.”
Theother side of his mouth joined in and he hit me in the chest with afull-fledged smile. What kind of witchcraft was this? Holy hell, Wyatt didn’tsmile enough. He should definitely smile more. Who knew someone so scary couldbe so beautiful?
“Soyou think Killian picked the right guy for the job?”
