Talon gives me space the rest of the day, which I’m grateful for, and when I finally clock out several hours later, it’s only Rebecca and me left.
“Hey, check the fridge. I think Talon put something in there for you,” she says before pushing through the door from the office into the main restaurant.
Pulling open the stainless-steel, commercial-grade fridge, I find a bag labeled with my name scribbled on a sticky note.
I grab the bag and set it on the matching stainless-steel table behind me. Peering inside, there’s a blank time card. With my curiosity at an all-time high, I pull the card out and flip it over.
Zeke,
Since you didn’t get to eat lunch, I thought maybe you’d like this for dinner.
-T
Inside the boxat the bottom of the bag isn’t anything from the employee menu. It’s a fucking fillet, baked potato, and green beans.
I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but this feels awfully close to a pity meal. And eating it feels like I’m simply going from needing one man to relying on another. I’ll starve before I become indebted to someone else ever again. Even if Talon has the biggest heart and the deepest eyes I’ve ever seen.
I think about finding a pen and writing a response on the blank side, but in the end, I just put the bag of food back in the fridge uneaten.
My stomach growls the whole way home.
Chapter 7
Talon
Zeke didn’t eat the meal I left for him a few days ago, but I’m not sure I expected him to. I just wanted the stubborn guy to have the option.
As I rode the gondola to the mountaintop this morning, a warning bell blared in my head. I’m not usually one to disregard the alarms, but I need more time. My original plan was to spend two weeks undercover in each department. However, not only am I enjoying my anonymity and the restaurant itself, I’m still intrigued by its host. Leaving now would mean my hundred questions would remain unanswered, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
Every interaction with Zeke finds me engaging entirely. There’s so much he says without words, and so much I think he wishes he had wordsfor. Since he doesn’t know who I really am, it feels safe, and the more time I spend around him, the more Iwantto be that safe place for him.
But I must’ve pushed too far with the dinner I left for him. My intentions were simply to make sure he eats, since I’ve never seen him do it, but that act altered something between us,and he’s been avoiding me ever since. When wedotalk, he’s even shorter with his answers than usual, which kills me.
I can’t help but think his boyfriend must’ve said something to him after I interrupted their moment. If I hadn’t, though, I was afraid of what I might have said or done if I’d allowed him to finish his sentence.
Ireallydislike that guy.
It was impossible not to see how Zeke visibly recoiled from his touch, and that’s what made me open my mouth. I’m usually not one to interfere in someone else’s business, but it couldn’t be helped. The need to protect Zeke was stronger than my desire to play nicely.
Despite the rift between us, I still bring him coffee every afternoon. Admittedly, I’m a little late with it today,andI opted for hot chocolate, but I’m hoping he’ll forgive me. Especially because I spiked it with just a hint of bourbon. The snow has been falling relentlessly for the past couple of hours, and the temperature has continued to drop. I figured the liquor was a better way to warm him up than hot chocolate alone.
Summit is hosting the employee Christmas party tonight. A tradition that the previous owner started and one that I want to continue. Because of that, we’ve closed early to the public, but Zeke is still outside, rehearsing lines, probably happy to not be a part of the chaos inside as the party is set to begin soon.
“Delivery,” I say, sliding the cup carefully across Zeke’s manuscript.
“Mmm,” he hums before heaving a sigh and looking up at me through his lashes. “I have to admit, this is the highlight of my day.” He gives me a reluctant smile, and it makes me so fucking happy to have a glimpse of the real him again.
Taking a cautious sip, his eyes grow wide, and I have to stifle my laughter.
“Did you…” he trails off.
“Idon’t know what you’re talking about.” I throw him a wink as I use the knuckle of my index finger to wipe his upper lip, realizing too late that the move was definitely inappropriate.
“Sorry,” I say stupidly, wondering why I felt it was okay to touch him like that.
“Don’t worry about it,” Zeke says, not dropping his gaze from mine as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
For once, I can’t quite read him, and before Ican, our moment is interrupted by a man wearing a red ski patrol jacket who is accompanied by two other men, obviously here for the party.
