Chapter 14
SUTTON
“Did you see the pictures Slade sent last night? The place is really coming along.” TJ asks, taking his fork and spearing a bite of the bolognese I came up with a couple weeks ago.
It’s Saturday and this late in the evening, it’s just him and a few stragglers as the last turn of the night winds down.
I polish a wine glass as I watch him wipe up the sauce with a piece of bread. I smile when I notice that the pasta dish is now almost entirely clean. That’s the part about cooking that I love. Knowing that I came up with a recipe and prepared it so well that people want to come back for more.
My smile fades when I think about his question and my answer.
“You mean did Slade call me and walk me through each of the pictures and point out every detail down to the coat hooks he put at each booth?” That was before he gave me the week by week itinerary for the Seattle remodel over the next two months. “Like he does every Saturday morning?”
Seriously. I know we’re in the service industry but it would be nice if he could at least pretend to have a work-life balance sometime.
TJ grimaces. “Well he probably knows I’d zone out and tell him to fuck right off. So I guess I just get a few progress photos.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury since he’s technically my boss. At least he ponied up for first class on my flight to Seattle tomorrow to check out the progress in person.”
“You know I prefer flying private.” He snorts a laugh before continuing. “And it’s great not having a boss. Although Grace loves to remind me that I was the best boss she ever had.”
There’s something amusing about him saying that considering that like Slade, TJ also employs his younger brother, Jake.
As much as I love my family and my brother, I want something that’s mine.
A place where I have the freedom to make my own name.
The restaurants have all been Slade’s, even though he generally stays out of my business once Gloria’s got up and running.
The garage is Sly’s more and more every day.
And Sisi has the motel that she’s put her personal touch on, turning it into a modestly profitable business.
“Where’s Grace tonight?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. As exciting as the new restaurant will inevitably be, it’s also becoming something I dread thinking about.
“She’s with Josie.” He wads up the napkin from his lap and sets it on the counter.
I nod, still trying to wrap my head around how small the world is. TJ married someone whose best friend is also from Sterling Springs. Unfortunately, that’s a detail I’ve had to keep to myself for now.
“Behind, Chef.” One of my bussers calls, and I turn just in time to stop them, depositing the dishes in their bin before they walk back to the kitchen.
I turn back to TJ at the counter, but immediately lose all interest in talking to him when I look toward the hostess stand by the front door.
Our hostess, Devyn, is talking to Kelsey.
She’s in her usual black skinny jeans and low cut black t-shirt.
I can’t look away though because there’s nothing typical about the way she looks.
“Watch out, Chef.” I look down as our bar manager Rich reaches under the counter to grab a bottle of lime juice from the fridge in front of me.
I step to the side, but don’t take my eyes off the woman talking to Devyn. I knew we cleared up some stuff between us, but she’s here. For the first time it’s not because she’s doing her job—delivering our coffee order.
She’s standing in my restaurant because she wants to be here.
They both look in my direction and I wave her over with way too much enthusiasm.
I dust off my chef’s coat and look at TJ. “Help me. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” He gives me a confused look before we both watch as Kelsey approaches.
“Oh.” He chuckles to himself. “This should be fun, as always. I needed some evening entertainment. Is she still mad that you took her car?”
“You’re not helping, jackass,” I grit out through a goofy smile.
Shit. Why I am smiling like a deranged idiot?
Don’t scare her off already, Sutton. Be cool.
Too late.
Kelsey walks up to the bar next to TJ. “Hey.” She leans up against the counter on her elbows.
“Hi,” I say. “What brings you in?”
What brings you in? God, help me. I’m an idiot.
TJ snorts a laugh into his wine glass, confirming my inner crisis. If we were sitting at a table instead of being separated by this counter, I’d kick him in the shin. In fact, I probably still will later.
Take a deep breath. I need to remember that she’s not here to see me. She’s just here because of the empty apartment upstairs. I need to stop acting like a giddy little kid.
She gives TJ a questioning look before turning her attention back on me. “It’s been a long day. Dinner with Monica went longer than I thought it would.”
“Alright,” I say, still lacking any ability to form a meaningful sentence.
She squints at me. “Anyway, I’m taking you up on the apartment and I’m crashing here tonight.”
“Cool.” Don’t freak out, Sutton. Don’t freak out.
“So what can I help with?”
“Help with?”
She nods slowly and I notice the corner of her mouth lift into an almost imperceptible smile. “Yeah. Remember, we talked about picking up some bartender shifts?”
Oh shit, I did say that. Not that I can remember anything because my brain has stopped functioning.
“Oh.” I let out a confused hum. “Yeah. Totally.”
I nod and point toward the office. “Just grab a bartender’s apron from the office.
There should be one hanging on the back of the door.
I’ll get Rich to start showing you the drink menu, but you can just hang here behind the counter and watch for a bit or start helping him clean up.
There really won't be too many drinks left to be made tonight.”
She pushes off the counter and claps her hands together once.
“Sounds good to me.” She turns and heads toward the office.
I still can’t look away from her as she walks away.
My eyes drift to take her in, starting with the way her black hair hangs over her shoulders.
Then I look lower, admiring how her hips sway and how her tight jeans hug the globes of her ass perfectly.
Fuck. My cock twitches in my jeans just remembering what it felt like waking up to that ass pressed against me. At least now I know why my brain isn’t functioning because all the blood left it and went to my dick.
“You OK there, bud?”
I turn to TJ and see him watching me with the smuggest grin I think he’s capable of.
“No. Not really.” I answer honestly because I’m clearly freaking out.
He shakes his head, still sporting that stupid, smug grin. This is probably karma getting me back for how much shit I gave him about not admitting to himself that he was in love with Grace. I guess it’s his turn to enjoy my misery.
He points toward the office where I just sent Kelsey. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk to you in the two years you’ve been here. I think she even smiled at you. Is that story less complicated?”
I glare back at him. “You’re really not helping.”
I wad up the dish towel in my hand to throw at him when Kelsey’s voice makes me forget that TJ even exists.
“Alright. Where do you want me?”
I turn to see Kelsey standing on my side of the counter, wearing my denim bartender’s apron. The way it’s tied around her waist highlights the dip I wish I could rest my hands in.
“Where do I want you?” My mouth hangs open and I hum awkwardly.
Upstairs, in my fucking bed. On her knees, in front of me.
Jesus, Sutton, get your shit together.
She nods slowly, in a mocking way. “Yeah, you know. So I can work? I don’t think I can get much done just standing here, looking at you.”
Reluctantly I tilt my head toward Rich who’s further down the counter, making drinks. “You’re welcome to shadow Rich. It’s late so the bar’s not too busy.”
She rubs her hands together. “Works for me.”
She steps toward me and stops with only inches between us. She’s close enough that I get the slightest whiff of that honey and coffee scent, making the situation in my jeans even worse.
Her gaze meets mine—those breathtaking gray eyes—and I savor every millisecond.
“Are you going to let me work with Rich or…” Her voice snaps me out of my fog. That’s when I realize that I’m standing right between the counter and the back bar, blocking her path to him.
“Oh. Yeah, my bad.” I step to the side and let her pass.
Part of me wants to tell Rich he can take the rest of the night off so I can teach her the cocktail menu, but I do have work to do in the kitchen and technically, I’m not his boss.
He works for Slade—just like me—he runs the bar, I run the kitchen and dining room.
So I fight the urge to follow her like a lovesick puppy.
Wait. Puppy.
“Hey,” I call over to her before she reaches Rich. She turns to me but doesn’t say anything. “Where’s Felix?”
That little hint of a smile returns. “I already let him in the apartment upstairs. I took the dog blanket out of the SUV and put it up there for him. I hope that’s OK?”
“Of course, I said make yourselves at home.” I stand there holding the towel in my hand not knowing what to do next. We both look at each other until she finally huffs a laugh. She points one finger down and turns it in a spinning motion.
Right, I actually have work to do because I’m running a restaurant. At least that’s what I’m supposed to be doing instead of fawning over her.
Turning to look into the kitchen, I’m glad it’s the end of the night. My sous-chef has things under control and the chaos from earlier in the night has died down. So I can go back to keeping an eye on things up front, which is definitely where I would rather be.
Finally, I take a deep breath and turn toward the counter where TJ is.
As always, this is my favorite spot and I’m glad Slade let me include it in the final design.
I can look out over the whole dining room on the other side of the counter or I can turn to watch the kitchen.
Normally my favorite thing to do is talk to patrons at the tasting counter right in front of me.
That might change though because when I look down the counter and see Kelsey behind the bar, I don’t want to look anywhere else.
“Yeah, I already know watching this is going to be my new favorite thing.” TJ’s annoyingly smooth and deep voice burrows into my ear from his perch on his stool.
This time, I don’t even look at him before I toss the towel in his direction.
“Really mature,” he says dryly. “Do you treat all your best customers like that?”
I look out of the corner of my eye at him just in time see him throw the towel back at me.
“Just you,” I reply before shifting my gaze back down toward the end of the bar.