Chapter 2
HARLOW
"That's the last one, chef," Gina called out.
I glanced back over my shoulder and gave her a curt nod.
Pushing damp, red hair off my face, I finished stirring the Bolognese sauce and set the lid on top.
One of our most popular dishes, I was always making tonight's batch while finishing off the lunch rush.
Now, it would sit and simmer for a few hours to increase the depth of flavor.
"That was brutal." My kitchen hand, Erin, bustled around grabbing up empty pots and spoons to wash them.
"Wouldn't have it any other way, would we?" I washed my hands and dried them before shrugging out of my chef jacket.
She grinned. "Nah, keeps things interesting." She dumped everything into the sink and started to scrub.
She'd been with me for a year now and knew what I expected.
Spotless everything. Above and beyond Health Department guidelines.
Angel's Rest had been in immaculate shape since I opened it two years ago.
No one was going to shut us down. We weren't going to end up on an episode of some show with Gordon Ramsay telling us to pick up our game.
No, if he ate here, he'd be singing our praises.
"Yeah, it does," I agreed. I hung my jacket on a hook and stepped out of the kitchen to greet any diners who remained.
A couple sat at the table beside the window, finishing off their chicken Caesar salads.
Every so often, he'd say something and she'd laugh.
She might not laugh so hard if she knew he was here last week with his wife.
And the week before that with a different woman.
Which, of course, was none of my business.
As long as none of them was underage, I'd turn a blind eye.
If they were underage, he'd be dealt with.
A guy sat alone at another table, dark hair hanging over his glasses. He absently shoved it off his face. Immediately, it fell right back down. He didn't seem to notice. His attention was on the tablet in front of him, occasionally picking up his milkshake to take a sip.
Heavy on the chocolate, they were another favorite with customers.
Placing the straw between his lips, he went to suck, the glass was empty. He stared at it like emptied itself, before putting it back on the table and pushing his hair back again.
I made my way over to pick up the glass, since Gina was busy clearing another table. As soon as I got close enough, he turned off the screen and looked up at me. Not like he had something to hide, but rather that he was giving me all his attention.
"Hey." He pushed his glasses back up his nose.
"Hey," I said with equal eloquence. He was cute, in a nerdy sort of way. Like a hot computer programmer. One who probably lived in his parents' basement, only leaving once in a while to have a milkshake.
"You're the chef here, right?" he asked.
"Chef and owner," I confirmed.
"You make a good milkshake," he said. "I'm Cassius." Looking chagrined he added, "Titmus." He held out his hand.
I looked at it for a moment before offering a fist bump instead of a shake. If there was something I hated, it was shaking hands with people.
He rallied quickly, curling his hand into a fist to bump before dropping it back to the table. "Sorry, social norms are not my strong point." As if the faded X-Files T-shirt wasn't a clear indication of that.
I shrugged one shoulder. "Mine either. Food makes more sense to me than people."
He grinned, showing a couple of slightly crooked teeth, but a warm smile. "Relatable. People never make sense to me." For a moment, his expression darkened, but lifted again like a stiff breeze blew a cloud away from in front of the sun. "Milkshakes are easier."
"Milkshakes don't tend to have expectations," I agreed. "They just…are."
"Especially yours," he said. "Secret ingredient?"
"Of course, but it's called secret for a reason." I was starting to wonder if he was a journalist, or worked for a rival restaurant. If that was the case, he was out of luck. He wouldn't get any secrets from me.
"As long as it's not made with any human bodily fluids," he said.
"No, that's the salted caramel," I deadpanned. "The salt has to come from somewhere." I flashed him a smile before heading to the kitchen to hand the empty glass to Erin.
"What did you say to him?" She was peering out of the kitchen in Cassius' direction. "I can't tell if he's turned on or scared out of his wits. I wouldn't rule out both."
I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, he was staring at me, his plush lips parted. His hair fell all the way over one lens, but he didn't seem to have noticed.
"I don't think you're supposed to traumatize customers," she teased.
"No, that's my job." Gina bounced into the kitchen, arms laden with plates. "I don't think it's worked with him. He's been in here every day this week. He's ordered every different flavor of milkshake. Never has anything else."
I narrowed my eyes at him, causing him to look away, his cheeks slightly red. "Has he been asking what we put in the milkshakes?"
Gina cocked her head before shaking it. "No, he just orders one and sits there looking at his tablet. He seemed harmless enough to me." She grabbed up a washcloth and headed out to wipe down the tables while Erin did the last of the dishes.
"Harmless enough, huh?" I muttered to myself. Yeah, people thought Gary was 'harmless enough' until he tried to make money by nefarious means.
Honestly, I wanted to believe Cassius Titmus was harmless, but there was something about him. A layer of darkness underneath the milkshake-sipping geek. Maybe he burnt ants with a magnifying glass for fun.
I stepped over to work on tweaking next week's menu. When I turned back, he was gone, along with the other couple. Gina was closing and locking the door behind them and turning the sign to closed. In a few hours, we'd be back for the dinner rush, but in the meantime, we'd take a break.
I shooed both women out the back door before closing and locking it behind us. Giggling about something, they headed off down the street, leaving me to step the other way. I almost ran straight into Cassius.
I startled and staggered a couple of steps back. Almost tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and fell on my ass. At the last moment, I threw out a hand to the wall beside me, keeping myself from falling.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said. He raised his hand in a gesture of placation.
"You didn’t. I didn't see you there, that's all," I said, pushing away from the wall. "Do you always lurk around in alleys waiting for women to step out?"
He offered a lopsided smile. "Not always, only once in a while. And only when the woman is beautiful." His gaze dropped to my lips for a moment before returning to my eyes. "And makes a mean milkshake."
"Still not giving you the secret ingredient." I started to step past him.
"I'm not asking," he said quickly. "I saw you in there the other day and I've been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you. Like I said, social norms aren't my strong suit. Some people would describe me as awkward as fuck."
"Fuck is pretty awkward," I said.
"I think I exceed it," he admitted.
“Right; I should go," I said.
"Wait can I ask you—" He put a hand out toward me.
Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist, dropped my upper body and threw him over my shoulder and onto the ground. He landed with a thud, bounced once before lying still, staring up at me. His tablet flew out of his hand and skittered a couple of feet away.
"Okay, that was hot." He blinked a few times before he moved and winced.
"Shit." I fixed my messy bun and stepped away from him. Throwing wasn't supposed to be hot. It was a reflex. A response to a perceived threat.
Seeing him lying there like that, I wanted to kick myself. He didn't look like a threat right then.
He looked like a lawsuit waiting to happen.
"I'm sorry," I started to say.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I always knew my paranoia would get the better of me someday, but I didn't expect it to be like this. Out in the street where anyone could have seen me in action.
He scrambled to his feet, his hands raised again. "No, I'm sorry. You must think I'm a total idiot. Hell, I think I'm a total idiot." He knitted his heavy brows. "I just wanted to ask you to dinner, but I get it. I've never been good at making first impressions." He sighed heavily.
"It's not you," I assured him. "You seem nice. I'm just not very…trusting."
That was putting it lightly.
I snatched up his tablet and handed it to him. Thank all the gods it didn't seem to be damaged.
"Come back for lunch tomorrow and I'll give you all the milkshakes you can handle." Yes, I wasn't above bribing him so he didn't sue my ass into the ground. If I had to give him free milkshakes for the rest of my life, and that's what I'd do.
It was a small price to pay when you thought about it. None of this had anything to do with wanting to see him again. Or so I told myself.
"I can handle a lot of milkshakes." He held his tablet against his chest and smiled. "Can we, I don’t know, be friends? I… I don't even know your name." He held out his fist again for another bump, his body tense as if expecting to find himself on the concrete again.
"Harlow." I swiped my fist over his. "I don't think you want me for a friend."
Unless he just wanted me for my milkshakes.
I'd say he was the first, but he wasn't. What can I say, food has an interesting effect on people.
Especially when they stood to make money from it.
I got at least one visit a month from someone working with my rivals, trying to learn something to give them an advantage.
Lucky for me, my staff was loyal. That's what I got for paying above minimum wage. And giving them time off when they need it. None of them would risk losing their job. Besides, we were a close-knit group of people, even if they didn't know about my…extracurricular activities.
"I really do," he said earnestly. "Maybe you can teach me how to throw people."
He mimed grabbing someone and throwing them over his shoulder. Then clasped his hands in front of himself and raised them, tablet and all, over his hand like he'd won a wrestling match. If the match was geek versus geek.
I found myself smiling. "I'll think about it. I should get going; I have things to do before the dinner rush."
"Of course." He lowered his hands again. "Me too. I'll see you tomorrow." He started to back away, jumped as he bumped into a dumpster and jerked away, laughing at himself.
I shook my head at him and watched him turn and hurry off down the street. I had to admit he had a very grabable ass, even in his faded jeans.
"Cass," I called out after him without thinking.
He stopped and turned around, a questioning look on his face. "Yeah?"
"Does anyone call you that?" I asked.
He shrugged and smiled. "They do now." He gave me a salute before he turned away again and disappeared amongst the crowds on the sidewalk.
"Bye," I said under my breath. If Cass knew what was good for him, he'd stay far away from me.
With a sigh, I headed off to my apartment to check on Gary. I sensed he was close to cracking and giving me the names of the people he was working with. If he did, I might let him die sooner.