“I’ll deal with him,” he said. “Nikolai, I’d appreciate it if you would go and stand by the front door, just in case we need to call the police in order to prevent this man from leaving without paying his bill.”
Nikolai nodded grimly, and I couldn’t help but picture our broad-shouldered Russian waiter standing in the doorway, blocking anyone who tried to get past. I wasn’t sure I would be brave enough to attempt it once he had one of his cold glowering looks on.
I watched on the cameras for a moment as Grey approached the diner who had complained so many times, hands behind his back in a pretense of humility until he leaned over and said something quietly into the man’s ear. As soon as he heard whatever Grey said, the man’s eyes popped open wide and he immediately glanced at the door – before hurriedly reaching for his wallet.
I’d seen enough, and it would be easy to slip out back to the kitchen unnoticed – especially if any of the diners around himcaught on to what was happening and started watching him. I made my way there with my eyes down, only glancing up once to see the customer laying his card against a reader, visibly sweating.
But despite all the excitement, and despite the fact that I hated being out in the restaurant in my chef’s whites…
I hesitated for a beat too long in front of the swinging door to the kitchen, knowing that as soon as I stepped through, I would be in the same room as Drake again.
I kept my eyes on the floor and tried as hard as I could to pretend that no one else in the world existed so I could get through the service.
Drake
I stepped down from the bus and looked both ways before I crossed the road and then the parking lot, hoping that none of my colleagues were arriving at the exact same time as me. I’d set off early on purpose to avoid being caught and having to answer questions about why I wasn’t riding my motorbike.
There was a very simple reason. I couldn’t turn the throttle.
My hand throbbed relentlessly. Not only was the joint stiff and sore, but after the heavy slam I’d given the shelf yesterday, it was blacked up with bruising. I’d hit it so much harder than I’d realized, and twice, too. Rafael had me so riled up that I didn’t even feel the pain until later.
I should have iced it right there and then, but I’d carried on working for a full service. Even when the pain had started to filter back through and I realized what an idiot I’d been, I hadn’t wanted to risk going to take more pills or taking a break.
I didn’t want him, or anyone else, to see my weakness.
Now I was paying for it, and I was going to be lucky to get through the shift without having to step aside. I was already whirring through options in my head: maybe I could say I was training Beau and helping him to see what it was like to take on Head Chef responsibilities for later in his career, or that the sign of a great manager was the ability to delegate effectively.
It would be complete bullshit, but maybe I could say it.
I swallowed two pills from my pocket before I pushed open the back door, finding it unlocked already. I was grateful for the relief already starting to flow through my veins and ease the all-consuming ache of my wrist when I looked up to see Rafael seated on the bench to the side of the room, looking over the day’s menu.
My voice went dry in my throat.
I was off my game, clearly, and I could only blame the pain and the pills I was taking to cope with it. There was no other reason why I should be so floored by this man. Why I would find myself unable to speak, unwilling to draw his attention to me because then I would have to face him and what happened yesterday.
We kissed.
So what if we kissed?
I’d kissed so many different guys in my life. One kiss hardly meant anything at all.
Except you’ve never had a kiss like that, the traitorous voice in the back of my head reminded me.
I was frozen, unsure of what to do, until the door cracked open again behind me; maybe it was seconds, maybe minutes, I couldn’t tell. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Ainslie coming inside, and greeted him in a way I hoped didn’t come across as panicked. More like, I was just coincidentally walking inside at the same time as him, and not standing here watching Rafael work silently like a creeper.
Rafael barely looked up at the sound of my voice and went right back to his clipboard. But was that a hint of a flush across the tops of his cheeks…?
I looked away, deliberately heading towards the station where I normally worked and pretending that I needed to tidy up.
Actually, I didn’t need to pretend much. There was a stack of dirty tools and dishes here from yesterday; clearly, whoever ended up doing the last stint of washing hadn’t bothered to go around collecting more things from the stations. In fact, when I glanced at the dishwashing sink, I saw it was piled high with dirty things still as well.
“Who’s doing the washing up?” I asked, glancing around.
I was met with silence.
Neither Ainslie nor Rafael reacted to me as if I wasn’t even there and hadn’t said a word.
Now that I thought about it, Ainslie hadn’t replied when I’d said hello.
