I’ve been cleaning an entire household since kindergarten.
Thinking about how my father and stepmother must have reacted when they woke up to find me gone, I shiver all the way down to my toes.
They have no idea where you’ve gone. They’re not going to find you. You’re safe.
With a deep breath, I put my chin up and march further into the kitchen, intending to station myself at the sink, keep my head down and clean my booty off until the dishes glisten like diamonds. But I see the gigantic man up ahead, I stumble over the rubber mat on the floor of the kitchen, heat crowding into my belly, my face flushing wildly.
Is that…Draven?
It must be. He’s wearing a white coat and everyone is nodding at his instructions like he’s passing on a message from God.
Maybe he is.
If I was God, I would look no further for a messenger.
He’s…breathtaking.
Broad and intense and commanding. His medium-length dark hair sticks out of the bottom of a black bandana that is secured around his head, stubble graces his powerful jaw, golden eyes piercing the soul of everyone they land on. He gestures with his hands at the group of gathered kitchen workers, and I can’t help but stare at those long fingers, the muscles of my abdomen tightening suspiciously.
Wow. His mouth looks so hard, while still being…plush.
Am Iattractedto this man?
No, that would be strange and inconvenient.
He’s at least thirty-two.
Andmean.
I’ve just escaped from an angry man. The last thing I need is another one in my life.
Not that having Draven in my life is an option. As co-owner of this restaurant, he’s essentially my boss, and based on the copious glowing reviews I read today about the chef of Tartine, he lives, eats and breathes food. No time for relationships, even if he were to glance at me twice. Which he won’t! I’m a dishwasher. Inconsequential.
Forcing myself to move, I skirt around the back of the group, my plan to find the sink and start scrubbing. I’m brought up short when Draven’s voice cuts off mid-sentence. Cutting a glance to my right, I’m shocked to find he’s staring right at me.
“Who are you?”
Everyone’s heads whip around at once.
It’s not their attention that makes me feel like I’m free-falling, however.
It’s his.
Having those eyes directly on me is like being bathed in fire.
Has there ever been any man so beautiful?
“I, um…” Oh lord, I sound as breathless as I feel. “I’m the new dishwasher.”
Draven crosses his thick arms, his upper lip curling. “No. Get out.”
Someone snickers. A few members of staff shuffle their feet, eyes on the floor.
My pulse is racing in my wrists and temples. “Get out?” I repeat.
“That’s what I said.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
