7. Remy
Chapter 7
Remy
I watched Colton move around the kitchen with effortless precision, slicing through the vegetables with sharp, rhythmic motions.
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms lined with faint veins that flexed every time he gripped the knife.
I couldn’t help noticing the way he reached for bowls, bent to retrieve trays, and stretched to grab spices from the overhead shelf.
“You shouldn’t watch someone cut up vegetables so closely, you know,” Colton said without looking up.
I blinked, startled out of my trance. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been sitting there, how mesmerized I’d been.
“Why? Worried about your knife skills? Or that an accident could happen?” I teased, trying to cover for myself.
Colton finally glanced up, his expression unreadable but his eyes warm.
“Yeah, I get nervous when you’re looking at me like that,” he said, his tone serious enough to send a flicker of heat rushing to my face.
Looking at him like what? I wondered, suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, uh, I can get out of your hair?—”
“No!” Colton said quickly, his knife slipping slightly against the cutting board.
He caught it before it toppled and straightened, his face a little red. “I mean... you were just so quiet. That’s all.”
Colton resumed chopping with a little too much focus, his neck and the tips of his ears tinged pink. It didn’t look like it was from the heat of the kitchen.
He coughed, clearing his throat. “So, uh, what’d you do earlier?”
I hesitated, debating how much to share.
The truth—that I’d left my car early to shower at the gym, wandered aimlessly around town, and killed time at the library—felt a little too pathetic to admit.
I knew the kitchen was usually empty at this time of day. Jesse was likely running errands, and the rest of the staff hadn’t clocked in yet.
It was just Colton, getting a head start on dinner prep, and somehow, I had found myself drawn here.
“Oh, you know,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “Went for a hike.” Not a total lie, considering I lived near the trails. “Had lunch.” Also true—if eating the leftovers Colton gave me last night counted. “Read a book.” At the library. For about five minutes.
Colton raised a brow, looking impressed. “Wow, busy day.”
“I guess so,” I said with a small shrug.
Colton smirked as he reached for another bell pepper. “And here I thought you’d been sitting around all day waiting to come here and stare at me.”
I huffed a laugh, grateful for the joking tone. “What can I say? Watching you slice vegetables is the highlight of my day.”
Colton chuckled, shaking his head. “Careful, I might start charging you admission.”
“Worth it,” I shot back, letting the words hang in the air for a moment longer than necessary.
Colton’s knife slowed for just a second, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.
My heart thudded harder than it should have, and I quickly glanced away, pretending to examine the counter like it was the most fascinating thing in the room.
The quiet settled between us once more.
I found myself watching Colton all over again—the way his hands moved, the slight crease of concentration between his brows, the way the sunlight streaming through the window caught in his hair.
I wanted to say something, anything, but the moment was broken by Jesse’s voice booming from the hallway.
“Colt! You in here? We’ve got deliveries stacking up out front!”
Colton sighed, setting the knife down and wiping his hands on a towel.
“Guess it’s showtime,” he said, flashing me a quick grin before heading toward the door.
I leaned back in my seat, exhaling softly. Whatever that moment was, it lingered in the back of my mind long after Colton disappeared into the bustle of the kitchen.
The lunch rush started slow. Jesse was darting between tables with trays balanced expertly on his hands, his energy contagious.
I stayed near the kitchen doorway, watching Colton move between the stove and prep counter. I’d offered to help earlier, but he told me to sit tight until it got busy.
Busy came fast. By noon, the line stretched out the door. Jesse, carrying two trays at once, looked like he was in three places at once, trying to keep up.
From the back, I could hear Colton’s voice as he barked out instructions to the kitchen staff, his movements quick and efficient.
I wasn’t used to this kind of chaos, but the tension in the air felt all too familiar.
It buzzed, sharp and unrelenting, reminding me of my days in the Thornebane pack—where tension wasn’t just a passing moment but a constant, coiled tight and ready to snap at any second.
But I wasn’t there anymore, and I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch the chaos unfold.
I made my way to Jesse, who was trying to calm a customer at the counter. “Need help?” I asked.
Jesse let out a frustrated laugh. “The kitchen’s swamped, and I can’t be everywhere at once. Can you run food?”
“On it.”
I grabbed a tray. Still getting the hang of things but already memorizing the table numbers, I moved quickly, matching plates to their tables as best I could.
The customers seemed relieved to see someone moving through the chaos, and the atmosphere eased just a little.
Then, things got worse. Someone called in sick last minute, and a mix-up in the kitchen left half a dozen orders delayed.
The tension I thought I’d diffused came rushing back. A customer near the counter started raising his voice, demanding answers.
I stepped up before Jesse could get pulled in deeper.
“I’m really sorry about the delay,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Let me get you a drink while we sort it out. On the house.”
The man frowned but nodded. “Fine. Just don’t take all day.”
Jesse gave me a grateful look as I handed the customer a drink.
“What orders are held up?” I asked.
He rattled off the numbers, his voice tight.
I grabbed a blank menu and a marker from the counter, quickly scrawling, ‘We’re short-staffed today. Thanks for your patience! Complimentary sides available while you wait.’
I held it up. “Can we do this?”
Jesse blinked at me, then nodded. “We’ve got extra fries. Let’s do it.”
I taped the sign to the counter and rushed into the kitchen. “Colton!” I called over the noise. “Got any fries ready?”
He glanced up from the grill, sweat dripping down his temple. “Yeah, why?”
“Customers are getting antsy,” I said.
He let out a sharp laugh and gestured toward a basket by the fryer. “Take it. And good call.”
I worked fast, loading small baskets with fries and taking them to the waiting tables.
“On the house, just while we catch up,” I told the customers, adding a smile for good measure.
It worked. By the time the fries were gone, the kitchen had caught up, and the hum of conversation returned to normal.
I stayed near the counter, catching my breath as I watched Colton step away from the stove.
He leaned against the prep table, wiping his hands on a towel. His gaze landed on me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something soft in his expression.
“You’re good at this,” he said, his voice low but steady.
I felt my face heat up. “Just doing what I can.”
“Just take the compliment,” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice, the smile still lingering on his face.
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” I shrugged, trying to hide the sudden nervousness. Before I could stop myself, the words spilled out. “How about we grab a coffee sometime? My treat?”
Colton straightened, his eyes widening slightly. “Are you asking me on a date?”
My brain short-circuited. “What? No—I mean…” My voice trailed off as I scrambled for an explanation.
A flicker of something in his expression told me he wasn’t sure if he’d messed up or just made things more interesting. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no,” he added.
I opened my mouth, wanting to correct him, but the words stuck. Instead, I nodded, feeling my heart pound in my chest.
Neither of us said anything more. Colton didn’t take it back—and I found, to my surprise, that I didn’t want him to.