It wasn’t until she came into the kitchen to grab an order that his decision to confront her was cemented.
Nova walked up to his station to grab the food he’d plated and, as he watched, her face lost all color and she swayed dangerously.
He saw one of the other waiters coming in behind her and barked, “Todd, take these to table…” He glanced at Nova. “What table are these for?”
“Six,” she murmured, her hands gripping the counter in front of her so hard that her knuckles were almost as white as her face.
With that, Torin came around the stainless steel counter and grabbed Nova’s elbow. He tried to keep his grip gentle but she swayed again. Afraid that she was going to hit the floor before he could stop her, he gripped her arm tighter and all but dragged her to a small stool in the corner where the kitchen staff ate on their breaks or just rested.
“Sit down,” he ordered, all but shoving her onto the stool.
“I’m okay,” she said, but her voice was week. What little color she had in her cheeks all but drained away and she swallowed hard.
“No puking in my kitchen,” he commanded. “When was the last time you ate?”
She blinked up at him and he realized she probably hadn’t had anything since breakfast that morning.
“Never mind,” he snapped. “I’m going to make you a plate and you’re going to eat. Are you allergic to anything?”
She blinked several times and shook her head.
“Stay here,” he ordered, just to be sure she wouldn’t try to do anything stupid, like walk out of the kitchen and faint in the dining room.
Nova didn’t respond, but he thought she would stay put. If she didn’t, he would carry her back in here and stand over her until she ate something if he had to.
He ladled out a small bowl of broccoli, potato, and cheese soup and set a hot roll next to it. While he knew she needed more food than that, it would get her started and hopefully keep her conscious while he put together shrimp and grits. He’d noticed that she tended to eat a large plateful when it was one of the specials—which it was tonight.
He put the bowl in front of her. “Eat.”
She glanced up at him, a little pink back in her face. “With what? My hands?”
Shit, he’d forgotten the spoon.
He reached over and grabbed one of the spoons he kept in a crock for tasting and stuck it in the bowl with a plop. “There. Eat this and stay here until your food is done.”
“This is my food,” she began to argue until he growled at her.
“You’re going to have shrimp and grits if I have to feed it to you.”
“Jeez, no need to be so bossy.”
“I’m your boss, therefore I’m bossy. Deal with it.”
He noticed a couple of small light orbs appear around her head, dancing with what he suspected was annoyance. She’d mentioned that she was a will o’ the wisp on their first date, but he hadn’t asked too many questions because, by that time, he’d already decided she was too flighty for him.
Now, he was kicking himself because he wondered if those little lights only appeared when she was angry or if other emotions brought them out.
“Fine,” she snapped, picking up the spoon and putting soup in her mouth. When he didn’t move, she glared up at him, her light brown eyes shimmering like two gold coins. “Are you making me shrimp and grits or not?”
Not for the first time, Torin bit back the urge to grin at her. With her reddish-gold hair, freckled pale skin, and amber eyes, she looked like a pissed-off fairy without wings.
“The roll, too,” he said, just to be contrary.
When she grunted, he turned his back to her to make her food, unable to control the grin that broke out across his face. He didn’t notice the way the kitchen staff stopped working to stare at him.
And he had no way of knowing that Nova would have been in a much better mood if she’d seen that smile.
By the time Torin had finished putting together a plate of shrimp and grits for her and returned with it, she was scraping the bottom of the bowl clean with the last bite of her roll.
