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“Yeah.”
The reply is a grunt—Grant was about to clock out for the night, but the kitchen isn’t technically closed yet.
The guy taps his manicured nails on the countertop and stares at me like he can see through my soul. His eyes, mouth,and nose are collected together in the center of his broad face, and he licks his teeth continuously while he waits.
“Marci, right?”
“Do I know you?”
“Nah. Just heard your name around town. Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence.
“Order up.”
I collect the burger and hand it over to the guy then accept the payment from him. Except the guy doesn’t let go of the money.
“What are?—?”
“You should be careful with that attitude,” the guy says. “Pretty girls should be seen, not heard.”
The bell tinkles over the door a second time, and Jesse enters. The customer releases the money, grabs the burger, and walks out.
What the fuck?
My skin goes cold, and I swallow.
“What?” Jesse asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Just that guy gave me a weird vibe,” I say.
Jesse spins around on the spot and goes to the diner door, but the guy is long gone.
“What did he look like?”
I tell him, then stop.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, releasing a breath. “I’m paranoid after last night.”
“As you should be,” Jesse says. “Paranoia keeps you alive.”
“It also drives you crazy, as evidenced by the fact that you asked me to?—”
I cut myself off and gesture over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Grant’s still here.
Jesse takes a seat at the counter, his stool swiveled to one side so he can simultaneously watch the front of the diner and talk to me. Not that I have much to say. One day of being moderately irritated with him rather than outright despising him doesn’t make me want to hang out with him.
Nor does it stop me from admiring his jawline, the set of his shoulders, those blue eyes. Ocean blue. Blue enough to drown in.
I hate him for how good he looks, even with dark circles under his eyes from last night. He rests his hand on the counter, occasionally tapping, and I watch the muscles flex in his forearm.
What would it be like to be Jesse Taylor for a day? To be strong, fearless, arrogant. To think I could take on the world.
My mind instantly goes to an image of him fisting his cock.
Thankfully, Grant exits the kitchen and says goodnight before I embarrass myself. He grins at Jesse, and I sigh. Even my grumpy chef likes Jesse. I don’t see why he needs my help.
