Chapter 2
HANA
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait while you lock up? I hate leaving you here on your own.” I looked up from the floor I was mopping behind the counter to find the chef standing across from me, his holdall slung over his shoulder.
I smiled and shook my head. “As big as your muscles are, Jay, I’m okay.
You should see some of the places I’ve worked.
This place is like Disneyland compared to those.
And you must be knackered. Go home, see your wife, and just so you know, I’m getting in some more staff.
You’ll still get the same take-home pay, but for fewer hours, so you actually get to put those kids to bed. ”
His eyes widened. I’d only been here for a couple of days, but the hours my staff worked were stupid, and it was time for a change.
“Well, I won’t argue with that. I loved working for Pete, but he was so stuck in his ways, so it’s nice to have some fresh blood in the place.”
I offered him a smile and shooed him out the door, locking it behind him. The truth was, I needed a minute. This move happened so fast that I was still catching my breath and trying to get used to my new surroundings.
I walked around the counter and sat in a booth, letting my gaze take in the pink neon lighting and retro decor of what had been Pete’s Place for apparently decades, but was soon about to go under a name change to The Diner.
“What do you think, Tony? Is this finally home?” I raised my eyes upwards as if I’d find my dead big brother there, looking down on me, telling me how proud he was of me for finally building this new life for myself.
I knew it was stupid, but since Tony left me when I was fifteen—God, how is it eleven years ago already?
—I felt like he was watching over me. I couldn’t explain it, but since I started living on my own, I felt his presence everywhere.
I used to think he was keeping an eye on me, but since I decided to make this move, that feeling had gone—vanished overnight—as if someone had cut the cord to our connection.
And I hated it. It was like I’d lost him all over again.
I pressed my hand to my heart, knowing I should shake it off and stop being ridiculous, so I gave myself a second to really feel the pain of his loss, and then, I rolled my shoulders, stood up and finished cleaning up so I could go home and eat the leftovers I needed to remember to retrieve from the fridge before I left.
Thirty minutes later, I was pulling down the shutters on the windows, trying to balance the tray of lasagna, my purse, phone, and my keys in the other hand, cursing myself for not being more prepared to step out in the dark street at this time of night.
“Can I help?”
I screamed as a voice came out of nowhere.
“Shit. Sorry. I’m Simon. I saw you struggling and thought I’d help a damsel in distress.”
“By frightening the crap out of me?” I barked, abandoning the shutters to glare at him. “Not cool, man. Really not cool.” I took the man in properly. Late fifties, small, stout. He shuffled closer, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Oh, great.
“So, can I help?” he asked again.
“No, I’m good. But thanks. I’ll have this done in a minute and be out of here.”
“Do you want to grab a drink? I know you’re new to town, Hana. I’d love to get to know you a bit better.”
I wasn’t sure if I physically recoiled at him using my name despite having never met him before, or if it was just in my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
He took another step, and I didn’t like how he invaded my personal space or how he was risking the safety of my lasagna. If I dropped this tray, heads would roll.
“Simon, was it? Could you just back up?” He held his hands up, but didn’t step back, and I was starting to get annoyed. “Step back before I make you,” I said with more intensity, but the fucker laughed in my face.
“Oh, we have a feisty one. I like it. Come on, let me buy you a drink.”
Two things happened at once. He reached out and wrapped his hand around my elbow, and another man appeared out of nowhere like a shadow, sending a ripple of panic shooting through me as I looked around for a way out of this. But then, the second man spoke.
“The lady asked you to back off.”
He stepped forwards, and the light of the streetlamp illuminated him; the shock of his appearance almost made me drop everything I was desperately trying to keep hold of.
He looked like a god. Ridiculously tall, wearing a black shaggy coat that looked like something he’d borrowed off a pimp or Jon Snow from Game of Thrones, which hung from his huge shoulders and reached his calves.
It was hard to see what he was wearing under it or the outline of his body, but this man emanated ‘I’m in shape’ vibes, and his hair, tattoos, and piercings screamed bad boy.
I shuddered, not because I was scared of him; quite the opposite.
This stranger was like my walking wet dream.
He stared at my unwanted visitor as if he were waiting for something.
Just then, Simon’s phone blew up with notification after notification.
He pulled it from his jacket and looked at it, his eyes widening before he turned and walked away, the conversation he was now having with someone on the other end drifting into the night.
“Hi. No… I was at work… just went for a quick one… how did you know… what do you mean, someone sent you my location… woman? No, I’ve not spoken to a woman, honey. You know I only have eyes for you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh before my attention turned to the man still standing in front of me.
Shadows fell across his face, highlighting his cobalt blue eyes and the angles of his cheekbones, accentuated by his thick, neatly trimmed beard.
“You good?” he mumbled, the deep timbre of his voice carrying an air of protectiveness that made me shudder again.
“Yep.”
He held out his hand, and like an idiot, I tried to shake it with my left one as it was the only hand I had free, but he shook his head before stepping closer and pointing to the pile of belongings in my grasp.
“Will make it easier, right?” he said, nodding towards the shutters I’d forgotten all about.
Heat flushed my cheeks, and I wondered why I was acting like such an idiot around this man.
I handed him my lasagna. “Protect that with your life.” And then I passed him my purse, pushing my keys and phone into it.
“I’m Hana, by the way,” I told him as I turned and pulled the shutters down easily, locking them, before standing to full height and turning back to him, catching a scent of the aftershave he was wearing that was possibly the most delicious thing I’d ever smelt.
“Where’s your car?” he asked, and I pointed just across the street to where my battered old Ford Fiesta sat waiting for me to cross my fingers about whether it wanted to start tonight. “I’ll walk you.”
Usually, I would have argued that I could walk myself, but he didn’t wait for an answer, striding away from me, taking my belongings with him, so I had little choice but to follow.
We reached my car quickly, and he handed me my purse so I could get my keys out. I unlocked it, putting my things and the tray of food in the boot. When I turned around to thank him, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Jesus,” I muttered to myself. “Who the hell was that?”