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“You just wanted to hold my hand.” I’m not sure what’s come over me. This flirty side isn’t one I relate to.
But he makes it so dang easy.
I expect him to make a joke right back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes my hand. “Is that okay?”
“It is.”
He walks me to the doorway that leads to the kitchen.
“I just need to mop behind the bar. It’ll just be a minute.” Jake releases my hand and points somewhere behind me. “There’s a stool there, if you want to sit. Or I can get Saint to bring a chair out from the office.”
“I’m fine. Can I put this somewhere?” I hold up the near empty water glass.
“The sinks are right over there. The left is for things that need to be washed.”
“Can I wash it?”
Jake shakes his head, grinning. Gosh, I really like his grin.
He gets deep lines beside the upturned cheek that nearly reach the long lines that appear by his eyes.
Even with a partial smile, he smiles with his entire face.
“Just put it in the sink. It’s fine.”
Trusting him, and realizing there are far more tubes and things going into the sink then I’d be able to figure out on my own, I place the glass in the deep tub and move to stand in the middle of the small alley-like way. Arms crossed, I look around.
The sink is actually a trio of sinks, with signs saying which of the three serves which purpose in the rinse-clean-rinse process. On the direct opposite side, is where food is prepped and cooked. Everything is wiped down and cleaned, ready for the next day.
There’s a large industrial door that I’m assuming is the fridge or freezer. When I realize there’s only one door, I assume it must be both.
On the walls are large laminated posters, all with different purposes.
One is about kitchen safety. Another has O.S.H.A. in large block letters, and fine print underneath.
A smaller sign has a diagram of the tables and bar, with a dry erase marker hanging on a shoestring from a push pin. I imagine that’s what tells each person which section of the room they’re in charge of, when serving.
Finding things to read on the walls, I can hear Saint in what I assume is the office. There’s music playing lightly, but it’s the only obvious sound in the establishment.
Then it’s the sound of the mop bucket being rolled that has me looking toward Jake. He grins at me as he pushes the bucket and mop into the back and I step out of the way.
“Still doing okay?”
“I am.” I realize I may have overstepped by appearing right before closing, but Jake isn’t making me feel unwanted in the slightest. Not that I’ll be making a habit of coming at close.
I don’t think, anyhow.
I watch as he dumps the mop water into what looks like a base of a shower stall, then rinses out the bucket before placing it upside down, wheels up, in the area. He hangs up at the mop while looking somewhere I can’t see. I’m guessing the office.
“Front’s done. Anything else back here need to be done?”
“Nope,” Saint’s voice answers and the music he was playing stops. “Actually, I didn’t grab the tip glass. Want to drop those in the safe? I’ll be finished in thirty seconds.”
Once again, I step out of the way when Jake comes near. He surprises me by holding out his hand in a familiar gesture, brushing my hip as he steps past. Instead of coming back right away, he pulls open a drawer under the register and pulls out a clear poly bag. I watch as he pulls bills from the large, handled beer glass they use for tips, organizing them.
“You’re pretty awake for this hour,” he mentions, his eyes remaining on task. “What do you do for work?”
“I don’t work third shift, if that’s what you’re wondering. I took a nap before coming back.”
