Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Dex
A dmittedly I was a little nervous. It had been a while since I’d worked as a short-order cook. Fortunately, Whisper Cove wasn’t sitting in the middle of a bustling city, a place where customers streamed in and out all morning and you were lucky to get a sip of coffee or water between orders. I knew nothing about the kitchen setup or the menu. Not the easiest way to start a new job.
“This place is beautiful, by the way,” I said. “You must be really proud.” The café was decorated with strands of lights hanging over polished wood tables and chairs. The floor was covered in a geometric patterned tile, and each table had a blown glass pendant hanging over it. One wall was covered in upcycled brick, and there was a deep-set fireplace in the middle of it.
Aria’s cheek creased with a dimple. “Thanks. I am proud, yes.” The strands of light made her copper hair glossy. She had a light spray of freckles throughout her flawless complexion. “In spring, summer and early fall, I have tables outside, too. In the winter, we light the fireplace. Makes the whole place cozy. I change the menu with the seasons.”
I followed her to the long counter that bisected the room. She picked up one of the menus and handed it to me. There were red and orange leaves and pumpkins printed around the outer edge. “Fall menu,” she said.
“The pumpkins gave it away.” I read through the choices. The breakfast options were all things I could handle: omelets, frittatas, biscuits and gravy and, of course, pancakes. The autumn special was a stack of pumpkin pancakes topped with whipped maple butter.
“We don’t open until seven in the cold weather. I found most people don’t venture out before that when the fog is thick and the sea breeze is glacial enough to make your eyes water and your nose run. I thought you could use the hour to figure your way around the kitchen and the menu.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” We walked into the kitchen. It was a tight space, to be sure, and she quickly turned back with an amused smile to take note of the giant man standing in the small workspace.
“I’m sorry. I designed the kitchen for mortal-sized people.” Her fingers flew to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I have no problem hiring?—”
“A Shrek-sized cook?” I asked with a chuckle. “You don’t need to worry about size comments. I was six foot one in the eighth grade. There’s nothing you can toss out that will offend me, because I’ve heard it all.”
“You must have gone to school with some gutsy bullies to be teasing someone your size.” She opened a door and tilted her head. “My office, and there’s a drawer in there for your belongings.” She pointed out the obvious things—the walk-in refrigerator, the stove, the oven and the work counter. “My sister, Isla, makes fresh bread and pastries for the café. She’ll be opening her own bakery soon, but she promises to still provide me with the same baked goods. And since I’m the big sister, the one who had to calm four younger sisters during a thunderstorm; the one who had to stay up late to go over their math homework; the one, who, in general, had to keep them from making silly decisions, she owes me.”
“See, I pegged you as that sister.”
“You did.” She paused and turned to me, looking suddenly less sure of this whole thing. I worried she’d pull her offer, but she had something else on her mind. “What do you think Kellan will say about this?”
I didn’t have a good answer for her. “No conversation that includes me will go well, but I’ll leave it up to you on whether or not you tell him. Maybe we should wait out the two days first. It’s possible I’ve lost my magic touch with a frittata. It’s been a long time since I’ve made one or anything that wasn’t in a frozen package or from a can.”
She looked slightly unsure.
“How hard can it be? Like riding a bike, right?” I said.
I hung my coat on the hook in her office. Her walls were covered with photos of her sisters and a sweetly smiling older woman who I assumed was her grandmother. I was stupidly pleased not to see a picture of Kellan amongst them.
I hadn’t planned on landing a job this morning, so I wasn’t dressed for it. I rolled the sleeves of my flannel shirt up and held back a smile when I caught Aria staring wide-eyed at the lion tattoo on my forearm. I sensed the slightest apprehension on her part. I couldn’t blame her. She made a rash decision asking me to work this morning, and she didn’t strike me as the type who liked to make big decisions on impulse.
“It looks scary, especially on an arm this size, but Aria, I promise, I’m just a guy trying to survive, a guy who wants a simple life, a guy who lost a bet when he was on leave with his army buddies. They wanted me to get a snake, but I negotiated my way to a lion.”
“Not sure if that was the more wholesome choice,” she said with a laugh. “That thing looks so real I’m waiting for it to roar and take a bite out of me.”
“Frankie?” I tapped the lion’s nose. “Nah, he’s as harmless as?—”
“As Gus?” she asked wryly.
“Right. Probably shouldn’t make too many promises about my pets, real and ink.” I clapped my hands together once. “Now, let’s get these griddles and grills ready. How many should we expect this morning for breakfast?”
Aria smiled coyly. “Thirty to forty.”
“For the breakfast hour?” I asked.
“For the day. It’s off-season and midweek. Slow day. It really is a popular café, especially in summer.” She shook her head. “That sounds pathetic.”
“Thirty is a great number to start with.” I was temporarily caught off guard as she reached back and swept her lush copper hair up off her shoulders to pin it in a bun behind her head. Her neck was long and elegant like the rest of her. I pulled my gaze away.
There was a knock at the door.
“Overanxious customer?” I asked.
“We do get our share of them, but that’s Isla with the bread and baked goods.” She hurried out to answer the door. There was some heavy whispering before Aria returned with her sister and boxes of baked goods.
Like her sister, Isla had an incredible smile. “I’m glad you’re here, and I hope this works out.” She leaned in closer to whisper. “I really, really hope this works out because she’s been so grumpy?—”
“All right, all right,” Aria said. “If we don’t let Dex get to work, then it won’t work out, and I’ll be extra grumpy.”
Isla winked at me, then followed Aria to the door. They stood outside, and Isla peered back inside a few times before walking away.
Aria returned. She paused and her shoulders lifted with a deep breath. “Let’s give this a try. No more judging on size or ink or choice of pets—I promise.” Aria handed me an apron. “Follow me to the fridge, and we’ll get things going.”