Page 23 of Relentless Touch

That’s what he appreciated the most. Rio’s honesty. It made Kevin feel like he had at least one person he could trust. And for someone who was used to people lying to him, it was a gift he would treasure.

Chapter Six

Kevin was not admitting it out loud, but this was the calmest he had been in months. His anxiety still surfaced, but he was sitting in a kitchen that smelled like cinnamon rolls. No one could feel anxious with that smell lingering in the air.

Closed for the night, Glass Oak was quieter than any restaurant he’d ever worked in. The dining room lights were off, but the kitchen lights remained on.

A half-dozen sheet pans lined the long counter, covered with the mess of after-dinner cleanup—a little marinara splattered onto the tile, a graveyard of silverware soaking in a deep pan, and a stack of tomorrow’s prep lists already curling at the edges from spilled water.

Kevin wiped a bar rag over the counter and watched the streak of red sauce vanish. Upstairs, Rio was doing his end-of-day accounting or maybe catching up on whatever restaurant owners did at the end of the day.

Part of Kevin wanted to go up there, plant himself on his mate’s lap, and mess up his stack of papers as they made out. You need to stop thinking about his dick every five minutes and let him do his work.

Kenai wound a towel around his fist and scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the stove. “If Rio had a weakness, it’d be this grease spot right here,” he declared, throwing his whole back into the job. “Guy hates messes. If he walked in and saw this, he’d launch into the importance of a cleanly workspace.” He grinned with a sidelong glance at Kevin. “You know he hired me because I actually know how to clean a grill. He claims it’s my ‘sense of order.’ Like, dude, the minimum bar for me is not setting the kitchen on fire.”

“I bet Rio has a secret inspection flashlight,” Kevin said, stacking clean ramekins in a pyramid on the drying mat. “Pretty sure he hides it somewhere. At closing he sweeps through like the health inspector but with less personality.”

Kenai snorted. “He does. I caught him once poking around the walk-in after hours. He was talking to himself about cross-contamination. Like how you can catch salmonella from a lettuce leaf. I’m immune. My last roommate’s fridge was so moldy I’m basically indestructible.”

The hours after dinner service were always like this: informal, a little slap-happy, and only as professional as the people cleaning up. Kevin liked the way Kenai rambled about everything from the price of detergent to the upcoming football schedule, all while pitching utensils into the dish bin with deadeye accuracy.

He also liked not being alone. It was nice having a friend to talk to. Kenai made it easy, talking like they’d known each other for years. The guy even had resting mischief face, like he was one good punchline away from winding up on a security camera.

Kevin dunked his hands into the bus tub he’d filled with clean, soapy water. The mundane task of sorting forks from knives kept his hands busy and his mind at ease.

“So how’d you end up here?” Kenai asked. “Not Glass Oak. I mean Crimson Hollow. No offense, but you don’t have that ‘born and raised in a place with a single traffic light’ vibe.”

Kevin wiped his hands off, gazing at the steam fogging up the window above the sink. “I was getting away from something,” he said then shrugged. “Nothing exciting. Just a guy who tried to run my life because his dick was too small.”

Kenai’s brows shot up. “That’s…wow.”

“Overshare?” Kevin snickered. “Sorry.”

“Dude, I get it. My best friend in high school used to date this guy who thought he was King Shit of the Football Field. She broke up with him, and suddenly he’s following her around town, slashing her tires, and threatening her, like being a menace is a desirable quality.” Kenai poured detergent into the dish machine. “Guys like that need to learn how to take no for an answer.”

“Yeah, Izan didn’t get the memo.”

Kenai flashed a look at Kevin. “Wait. That’s the psycho from the club parking lot you told me about?”

“No, it was one of Izan’s goons, Ameer.” Kevin’s leg bounced under the edge of the prep table. “Izan is the one who struck me.”

“Shit. You okay? You didn’t mention he hit you.” Kenai actually stopped what he was doing. That meant a lot since he seemed to run on continual motion.

Kevin shrugged, acting like it hadn’t scared him. “I’m tough. Takes more than a jerk with rejection issues to rattle me.”

Kenai made a noise, something close to admiration. “If someone had popped me in the face, I’d cry until my mom drove me home.”

The admission surprised Kevin. “Moms are like that.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“Rio’s a pretty good guy.” Kevin washed a cutting board. “And I like it here. There’s something about this place makes me settled.”

Kenai closed the oven door with his hip. “I know the feeling.” He tossed the bar towel onto a hook. “When I came in for my interview, Rio fed me instead, more interested in my animal than my skills..”

“What do you shift into?” Kevin was genuinely curious.

Kenai grinned. “Guess.”