I burst out laughing from nervousness. “No! What? No!! That’s definitely not what I was thinking.”
“Thought I might as well make use of idle time while I was here.”
“I saw that. Impressive.” His friendly, goofing-around nature has been replaced by something darker. He really didn’t like me sneaking up on him. “I was just going to make coffee. You want some?”
He blinks a moment like he’s trying to regain a sense of where he is. Raking a hand though his hair, he nods, eyes falling toward the ground.
“Sure. Yeah. I could use a cup.”
“Great, it’s this way.”
The restaurant is quiet except for our footsteps. I feel like I did something wrong, worse than just sneaking up on him. To lighten the air with casual conversation I look over my shoulder and see his eyes dart up from my ass. A pulse begins in my core. “Were you just checking me out?”
“Sorry, Boss.”
“You were.”
“I was. I’m not denying it.”
My eyebrows twist and I wring my hands, suddenly very aware of my body, which is a new sensation in this work environment. It’s normally formal and all business. Bryan never gives away our nighttime entanglements when I’m on the clock. He never compliments me, checks me out, brushes against me suggestively, none of it. I get texts after I clock out, but I feel almost androgynous when I’m working, except for right now.
Now I feel very much like a woman.
“I’m having a latte.”
“Sounds good to me. Teach me how to make it.”
Nodding I very self-consciously walk up to the machine. “Here it is.”
“Top of the line.”
“Bryan likes it that way. Everything has to be the best.”
Jeremy slides his hands in his pockets and holds my eyes. “It shows.”
My lips part. It felt like he included me, personally, in that. Nervously I ask him, “So I hear you have five brothers? Tell me about them.”
“You hear that? From who?”
“People talk.”
Jeremy pulls down two, pristine, white mugs for us, his eyes on me while I push the button to ground Sumatra beans and start the lesson. As I teach him our two subjects overlap.
“I’m the youngest of six brothers. All very different, good men.”
“You pour the fresh grounds here then compress them with this.”
“By the time I got to school they’d done everything there was to be done. I walked onto campuses with a reputation before anyone even knew me.”
“Push the double button here and it’ll pour into both cups. Or press this one if you’re making only one and position your cup accordingly.” I meet his eyes and he nods.
“At first it was easy. Piece of cake to walk in the grooves they all made. But then I started to ask, who am I? How am I my own man?”
“And you were what age?”
“Fourteen.”
On a smile I tease him, “Fourteen and already thinking you were a man?”
His face is sober. “My dad raised us to be men. None of us stayed a boy long. We were all the same in that, strong, loyal, true to ourselves and what we believed in. Men.”
“I see.”
“But I didn’t have a sense of who I was to become. How I’d spend my time. What made me happy. What made me different. How I was going to leave my mark.”
Jeremy inhales and glances away, then back to me, holding my eyes. He’s open, the wall down, the joking abandoned. I can’t stop staring at him.
“Go on.”
“I didn’t have a purpose. I didn’t know how I was going to make my mark in the world and not just be their little brother.”
My voice is soft as I ask, “Have you found it?”
He holds my look a moment. “I don’t know. So, what next?”
“With?”
“With the lattes.”
“Oh!” Turning to the espresso-filled mugs I struggle to remember the next step. Reaching into the small refrigerator below I grab whole milk and smile at Jeremy, “Would you hand me that silver steamer?”
“This little pitcher thing?” He points at it.
“Yes.”
“Here ya go, Boss.” The sides of our hands touch and a spark of electricity makes us jump. “Whoa!”
“Ha!” he laughs.
“I guess the rug…”
“Yeah.”
As I stare at him his eyes darken.
“Um, so, you fill the pitcher halfway with milk, like this. Place it under the white steamer spigot thingy. I don’t know what it’s called. Then roll the spigot around in the milk, hover it just under the surface to make it foam. See?”
“Let me try,” Jeremy murmurs, coming up behind me. I freeze as his large, warm hands wrap around mine as I roll the pitcher around.
He takes control and adds pressure to my stunned fingers. “Like this?” he whispers in my ear. Our bodies are touching and mine just caught fire, humming, heat pooling between my thighs and trailing in every direction. My eyelids close as I start to lean into him against my will.
The front door opens in the distance. Jeremy smoothly steps away from me, releasing my hands in a hurry.
Cathy calls out, “Meagan?”
My voice cracks, “Over here!” Glancing to him over my shoulder I pour the perfect foam into our cups. “Cathy will be training you so, now that you know how to make lattes, go with her to the bar.”
“You got it.” He smiles as if nothing just happened between us, but as he goes to leave he lays his hand on the wall, meets my eyes and confesses, “I already knew how to make lattes. They’re not a new invention.”
He winks and disappears as my jaw drops.
Jeremy
While I love getting a rise out of Meagan this time I got a rise out of me. The wrong kind. The tent-in-my-borrowed-black-slacks kind. “Hey Cathy, I’m hitting the head then I’ll be right over.”
“Okay!” she calls out on her way to the bar in a halter and black jeans that make my eyebrows twitch.
Wasn’t I chastised for this shirt?
Whatever.
Pacing in the men’s room I roll over in my mind what just went down. She could have pushed me away, but she leaned into me a little.
Or was that me leaning in?
The chemistry started having a mind of its own. Another second and I don’t know what would have happened.
Grabbing onto the sleek edges of a sink I lock eyes with my reflection. “Are you done self-sabotaging? Trying to get fired? You saw the texts. She’s involved with the boss. Don’t fuck this up!”
Splashing cold water on my face, I snatch a paper towel and rub my skin, soaking up and tossing the sweat from my mistake in the trash.
As I stroll out to the bar with my zipper flat again, I smile at my new co-worker, “Ready to learn whatever you’ve got to teach. I’m Jeremy.”
“Cathy.” She’s slicing limes, her pretty head tipped down but her eyes on me. “I see you didn’t get the memo either.”
“What memo?”
“Not to wear a tank,” she smiles while snapping her halter top’s spaghetti strap. Her large breasts bounce under the gesture and I force myself not to glance down.
It’s not easy being a guy. Not the slightest bit easy. Cathy’s flirting, and it’s intentional. I’ve been on the receiving end my whole life.
I’m not into her and I hope she cuts it out because I have a sneaking hunch if she doesn’t, my lady boss will increase the verbal attacks. Walking behind the bar I tell Cathy, “I’m going shopping later today. So what about these computers?”
She drops the limes while I wait, licks her fingers, staring at me, then smiles as she washes them off in the sink with soap, taking extra long with the suds and massaging. By the way, her ass is in the air. Fuckin’ hell.
Meagan walks up, coffee in hand. She’d come out from the kitchen, where I’m guessing the office is. She caught me looking where I wasn’t supposed to. Her blue eyes sh
arpen like I’m the biggest man-whore. She darts an irritated glance to Cathy’s backside, rolls her eyes and disappears.
Under my breath, I mutter, “Great.”
“What?” Cathy asks, straightening and sweeping her hair back.
“Great,” I smile. “Can’t wait to get started.”
“You were really impressive with those cocktails you made.”
“Thanks.”
She crooks a finger at me. “C’mere.”
I hesitate but when she walks to the iPad I cross to her, all ears. “I saw these last night. We use iPads?” Feels so weird to say we, like I’m one of them now.
“Yep. There are two, and some nights there will be three of us tending bar. But I hope they let us run some night with only two because, you know, more money,” she smiles, touching the screen with sensual slowness, her tits pushed out. “The servers have iPhones on the floor.” She may as well have said, lay me on the floor. “The ability to make calls has been disabled. It’s just Wi-fi for our restaurant system’s app. Isn’t that hot?”
I swallow hard. “Yep.”
“I think so, too.” Her eyelashes drop as she gazes at my mouth. “That’s how they put in their orders. See the printer at the end?” She points and then runs a hand through her sweet-smelling hair as she looks at me from over her shoulder.
“Yep. I see it.”
“Whoever’s manning that side will make the server’s drinks. The orders print out from there.” She walks to it, bends over in front of a storage cabinet, ass high like a cat’s. “Extra paper is in here.” She shoots up, flips her hair back in the sexiest way. “You’ve used that system before, right?”
“Yeah. I just need to learn the computers. The rest I can do on my own.”
Cathy saunters back to me and leans against the counter. She touches my arm and whispers on a sensual smile, “You don’t need anyone to show you around?”
“I’ve already shown myself around.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?”
“Nah, just…”
“Cocky,” she finishes. “I know your kind. Oh, don’t get that face. I’ve got a boyfriend. I’m not hitting on you.” My eyebrows fly up, and she laughs. The flirtation drops and she eyes me with a sharp intelligence that wasn’t evident a moment ago. With a strong voice that’s all business she informs me, “I’m just showing you, bottle flipper, that while your drink-making skills might’ve put you in Bryan’s spotlight, I have skills of my own that will get tips, so don’t underestimate me.”
I break into a grin. “Hilarious.”
She gives me another wink. “Gotcha, didn’t I?”
“You certainly did.”
“Now let’s get to work.”
We go over the menu items, where to ring up well, call and premium liquors, how to log a free drink so the inventory is accounted for. Sometimes you have to buy a drink, or a round, for guests to keep them feeling special, or to fix an error and keep them coming back.
“He’s been in the business for twenty years after all,” she explains with respect.
“How old is he?”
Cathy likes to spin the ring on her index finger around when she thinks. She’s done this at least five times in the last two hours. “Almost forty, I think.”
I expected a lower number. Maybe thirty-two or three.
She reads my mind. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
“I’m into him,” I smirk, and she laughs.
“Yes, sure you are.”
Meagan walks out of the kitchen and glances between us. Her hair looks freshly combed and her lipstick has just been reapplied. “What’s funny?” Her eyes rest on me as she waits for the answer. It’s so fucking hard not to ask if she flossed, too.
“Nothing,” I shrug.
Cathy leans against the counter. “Just getting to know each other.”
Caramel brown eyes flicker as her neck lengthens and she exits, footsteps fading as she heads into the office. It takes me a second to turn back to my trainer and when I do, she’s watching me.
“Meagan’s with Bryan.”
My head goes back as I shove my hands into my pockets. “So?”
With a knowing smile she turns the iPad off. “You’re all set. Go memorize the menu. If guests ask about the food you need to know the answers. When’s your first shift?”
“Let me go check.” I start to leave but see her smile. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m just going to ask the boss when I work.”
Cathy smirks, “You’d better be.”
Meagan
I’m re-reading the report from last night to make sure I ordered everything that needs replenishing after last night’s event.
Jeremy’s deep voice interrupts with, “Busy, Boss?”
Surprised goosebumps spring up on my skin and I glance over to find him leaning on the doorframe.
“Yes, I’m busy. What is it?”
“Just want to know when I’m working.”
“Oh.” My eyelashes flutter to the keyboard and I do a search for our calendar. “You’re replacing Ty so you’re on tonight, Tuesday and Wednesday.” Our eyes meet as I ask, “You all done out there?”
“Think so. I’ll go home and memorize the menu. Buy some work clothes. What time you want me back here tonight?”
“Five.”
Bryan’s voice booms through the empty kitchen, bouncing off the metal shelves, stoves and pots and pans, giving him the quality of someone talking in a stadium. “How’s my apprentice doing today?”
I straighten in my chair. My eyes flit to Jeremy and he straightens up, too. Bryan walks past him, glances up and down his attire and says with disdain, “If you’re working for me you’ll wear a real shirt.”
Losing none of his confidence Jeremy says, “I’m shopping this afternoon.”
Bryan locks on me. “What’s going on here?”
My fingers jet toward the screen. “You want to give him Ty’s schedule right?”
The tightness around his lips and eyes relax.
Was he jealous of us being back here alone?
It looked that way.
Leaning in to read the schedule Bryan touches my shoulder and holds there. This is new. “Ty was on tonight? Hmmm.” He rubs my shoulder before straightening up and turning to Jeremy. “Let’s see how you do this evening. If you’re as good as yesterday I’ll give you weekend shifts. Don’t fuck this up.”
Jeremy’s eyes shine with the challenge. “Works for me.”
“Go buy a uniform that’s not inspired by gay bars.”
Bryan turns his back on him. It’s how he dismisses everyone. I glance to Jeremy. His eyes darken before he disappears.
“Is everything ready?”
“For tonight, absolutely. I called Smith’s and they’re making a special run so we have the arugula, cabbage, kale…”
Leaning against the wall Bryan waves me into silence. “Yes, yes, don’t list them all to me. Jesus. Did you order everything we need or not?”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you come over last night?”
I stare at him. "You're going to bring that up now?"
"Why wouldn't I?”
"I thought we don't mix business with…whatever it is we’re doing.”
With a volcano brewing behind his eyes he ignores this and waits for an answer to his question.
Nervous he might blow up I hastily explain, "I was tired. It was a very big night, and my head hasn't completely healed yet, either." I point to my bandage.
"Doesn't look that bad to me."
The sounds of staff members walking into the kitchen distract us both, thank God. Bryan pushes off the wall and strolls out of the office just like that.
I call his name and he pokes his head back in. "Yes?"
"Is there a chance I can get behind the line tonight? I'd like to cook."
He makes a face. "Who would watch the floor? I need you out there. This is the official opening night. For the common people."
; "I want to cook! I'm a chef. I went to culinary school." I stare at him hoping he can hear how much I mean it. "When are you going to give me a chance?"
Bryan smiles that charismatic smile of his. "Meagan, you will have your chance soon. Didn't you see Karate Kid?"
I relax a little. "Of course."
He walks in and touches my cheek. "Then you know why I’m doing this to you. Paint the fence, wax the cars. Learn to have a little patience." He leans down and kisses my forehead, directly on my stitches. I hide that it hurts. From the kitchen Alberto calls his name and suddenly I'm alone in the office.
That made me feel better. I’m very glad I asked. I’ve been so confused as to why I’m called his apprentice when I’m receiving no hands-on culinary training.
Okay, so this menial crap isn’t for nothing.
I'm working toward something. This has been like a test and one day very soon I will be standing behind those stoves with a row of perfectly aligned plates laid out before me full of food I created that complete strangers I will never meet are about to enjoy.
I cannot wait!
Turning back to the computer I double check the ingredients while running my finger down the screen. To make sure I show that man my worth I will make no mistakes.
The sound of the cooks laughing grabs my attention. They’re having so much fun I rise to peek out and see what so funny.
Bryan is teaching them a new dish he's just dreamed up for tonight's special. They are laughing out of camaraderie. Bryan catches me and waves me back into the office. "Wait your turn," he smiles.
A couple of the other men turn around to see me. The look in their eyes…it’s like they're better than me. Is that just my imagination?
Carlo can't cook his way out of a McDonald's kitchen. I tasted his work. He over-salts.
Biting my tongue I disappear into the office, keeping the door open. I want to hear the cooking lesson even if I can't see it.
The hardest test is learning to put my ego aside.
Meagan
I'm so busy monitoring the little things, from the bathrooms staying clean, to helping the valets adjust how they organize car fobs, to accepting the late delivery of an industrial sized box of Panko breadcrumbs from the service door just in time for a big order, that I'm hardly on the floor during the first two hours we’re open.
Cocky Soldier: A Military Romance (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 6) Page 8