by Mary Behre
Ross’s smiled dimmed, marginally. “You’re right. I know you are. And you totally have the job. Just . . . just don’t tell Niall about, well, me being gay.”
“Your secret is safe. Besides, that’s something you’ll want to tell him yourself, isn’t it?”
“Right. Of course. When the time is right.” He smiled at her. Big. Really, really big. “We’ve got other things to think about now.”
Something in his overly bright expression made her nervous. “Ross, would you mind keeping my little ability to yourself?”
“Oh, sweetie, you’re in Tidewater. There are more folks in this city like you than you realize, but sure. No one will hear about your talent from me. It’s probably best anyway. We want Niall to get to know you before he hears you can . . . well, you know. He might not take it well. At least not at first. He’s very narrow-minded. A great guy, but he has one way of seeing the world and he might not understand this.”
Not from her perspective. Niall had seemed lost and lonely when she’d met him six months ago. But not narrow-minded. Sure, he’d been skeptical of her abilities but he had seemed to accept them. Then again, they’d been more interested in getting naked that night.
Honestly, what did she really know about him? He hadn’t jumped up and said he believed her when she’d showed him what she could do. He hadn’t denied it either. She’d have to consider it. Right now, her biggest concern was his potential reaction to seeing her in his eatery.
“Still, Niall’s a great guy. Once he warms up, he’ll accept you.”
Hannah didn’t point out that for all his confidence about Niall accepting her, Ross was still firmly in the closet and showing no signs of coming out anytime soon.
“It’ll be a week or two . . . at most a month before he figures out what you can do,” Ross said in a rush, color high in his cheeks and his eyes bright with excitement. “Probably less. He’s really smart.”
Her conscience pricked. She really should say that she knew Niall. But before she could, someone banged on the door. “Ross, we need you out here. The delivery truck arrived and brought organic, whole wheat flour. He says he won’t take it back.”
“Crap!” Ross replied, yanking open the door. “Paulie, tell him not to unload the truck. I knew we’d have problems when the grocery store fired the old manager. At least she knew the difference between organic and gluten free.”
A very flustered-looking Paulie eyed Hannah with obvious suspicion. She retreated to the desk to make it clear she was filling out paperwork. But the effect was sort of lost when she had to search through her bag to pull out her own pen. One that wouldn’t send her countless visions.
“Hannah, finish filling out the paperwork and we’ll get you started before my brother gets back.”
She needed to tell him. He had to know.
“About your brother, I’ve met him before,” she said at the same time Paulie said, “So she’s our new server?”
“Well, that’ll make it easier introducing you.” Ross spared her a quick glance before focusing his attention on the cook who had the look of a jealous lover. But if he could see, Ross didn’t react. “Yes, Paulie. I thought you understood that when I introduced her ten minutes ago. She’s going to help us work the English wedding this weekend.”
A horn beeped outside.
“Crap!” Ross bolted through the door. “Wait a damned minute. Where’s my order form?”
Paulie glared at her another second, before chasing after Ross, a white sheet of wrinkled paper crinkling in his hands.
Oh, yeah, Paulie’s feelings for Ross were definitely reciprocated. And it made her wonder just how far in the closet Ross was hidden for Paulie to be shooting back-off-my-man looks with his eyes.
Next question. Would Niall be as happy to see her as she would be to see him?
* * *
ALL AFTERNOON HANNAH both anticipated and dreaded the idea of seeing Niall again. She’d completed her paperwork, been asked to fill in at the Cat, gone home to change, been assigned to follow around a waitress named Sadie to learn the ropes, and kept a smile on her face doing it, but Hannah’s nerves were frazzled.
Somehow, the universe had led her straight to Niall’s restaurant. What were the odds? Slim. They had to be slim odds at best. It was a sign. A sign that their night together was destined to be more than a singular, unforgettable event. Right? Or a coincidence.
Nah, no such thing as coincidence.
Perhaps she was here to help the brothers communicate? Clearly, her vision in Ross’s head had been fraught with the need the brothers had to seriously talk. Could that really be what she was here to do? Get the men to do the one thing the male of her species hated most . . . express their feelings?
Why couldn’t the signs around her be as sharp as the taste of that apple in the blasted vision?
Hannah tugged at the black apron tied and retied around her waist, as if the action could help her figure out what to do. Well, she might not understand what the universe intended for her yet, but at least she’d been smart enough to bring a pair of black slacks and a white shirt with her from Ohio. She’d planned to wear them to interviews to make a good impression. Her folks had been right when they’d told her she’d need the clothes.
One day in Tidewater and she had a job. Not her dream job but one she could do with her eyes closed. One that offered decent money. Yep. One more sign that she was in the right place.
Thank you, universe!
She needed to call her parents and give them an update. Anticipating their pleasure at her news of landing a job so quickly, she tucked her hand in her pocket. Empty. Shoot! She’d left the phone on the charger in the hotel. Oh well, she’d call them after her first shift ended.
“Are you listening to me?” Sadie snapped her fingers in front of Hannah’s face, jolting her out of her thoughts. The thirtysomething, faux red-haired waitress’s blue eyes narrowed to slits as she tapped one red-tipped nail on the prep table.
“Sure thing. Gold-tipped cooking utensils go in the gluten-free section and the silver-tipped in the regular. The two sets cannot be mixed up because of the risk of cross-contamination. When serving both at a table, bring them out on separate trays and try to serve the gluten-free meals first. Honestly, this is not the first time I’ve served food. I really do know what I’m doing.”
Sadie’s overly large nostrils flared. “From what I hear you were a bartender. I’m the only one who tends bar at events so don’t try to horn in on my turf.”
“Lighten up, Sadie. The girl’s only been here three hours.” The shy busboy made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a cough. With a gray bin in his hands, he carried in the dishes from the front of the restaurant. His eyes were obscured behind hair that wasn’t brown and wasn’t blond. His dirty white apron covered his equally dingy white shirt and pants. He might have been sixteen or he might have been Hannah’s age. It was hard to tell. But one thing was clear, he was quick to defend Hannah. “It’s not like she’s applied to take your job. Go easy on her, why don’tcha?”
“Ah, look! The mute has found his voice.” Sadie glared at him. “Run along and wash the dishes or clear a table, Mouse. It’s all you’re good for.”
The man seemed to shrink but his white-knuckled grip on the dish bin and the thinning of his lips radiated anger. An anger matched, if Sadie’s death ray glare was any indication.
“Is there a problem, Michael?” Karma asked the busboy, stepping into the kitchen through the swinging door separating it from the Master dining room. Her voice took on a slight Hispanic accent that she hadn’t had before. Her face was friendly but her eyes assessing. Her gaze bounced from Michael to Sadie and finally to Hannah.
Then one by one, all eyes turned to Hannah, as if expecting her to answer. So she did. “Nope. Just getting the rundown of how the restaurant operates from Sadie and Michael.”
&nb
sp; “I’ll bet.” A smile curved Karma’s lips and her voice lost its accent. “Sadie, if you’re finished showing Hannah the prep tables, I could use you out front. We have some guests arriving for dinner. Michael, why don’t you see about washing the dishes you cleared from lunch? We don’t want the boss to come back and find a sink full.”
“Fine.” Sadie scowled but the moment her palm touched the swinging door between the kitchen and the front room, a believable smile lit her face.
Michael didn’t answer, but disappeared around the corner. His expression had blanked to the quiet, introspective one he’d worn when Ross had first introduced her.
“Don’t mind them,” Karma said when the water started running in the other room. “Sadie and Michael had a fling a few months back.”
Oh, ewww.
“But she’s old enough to be his mother.”
“He’s older than he looks. But I suspect the age difference was part of the reason it didn’t work out. I think poor Sadie wanted more than a fling but Michael . . .” Karma shrugged. “He’s only twenty-five and still trying to find himself. Still young, you know.”
“He’s older than me. Isn’t he older than you?”
“No, I’m twenty-seven.” Karma winked. “Women mature faster than men. Besides, you and I are unique. We needed to figure out who we were much younger than most people, don’t you agree?”
Hannah wanted to ask what Karma meant by that, but Virgil appeared at the screened-in back door, two grocery bags in his arms. “Can one of y’all pretty ladies get the door?”
At the same time, Sadie appeared in the opposite doorway, the scowl back on her face. “Karma, since you let Dawn go home early, I hope you plan on putting the new girl to work out here. I’m already working with a six-top. We just had two four-tops and an eight-top walk in. I can’t do them alone. Not that I’ve had time to teach her what those references mean.”
“A four-top is a table with four customers and an eight-top is eight customers. Or guests, as I suppose you call them here. I told you, I have a background in the service industry.”
Hannah glanced at Karma who opened the door with one hand and handed her a pad with the other. “Hannah, are you comfortable doing both of the four-tops? They might be easier than the eight for your first time here, since you don’t know the menu yet.”
“Sure. I got this.” Hannah tucked the pad into her apron, then tightened the strings out of habit. Nope, she might not work in the bar anymore, but food service was food service after all.
Sadie huffed and pushed her way out of the kitchen again, that incredibly realistic smile plastered to her face.
The door swung back before Hannah could reach it. She tossed up a hand to catch it before it hit her in the face. A sizzle of energy slapped her palm where she brushed the metal plate on the door.
She shifted and used her shirt-covered elbow to push on the wooden part of the door. But her arm caught the edge of the metal hand plate and something dark seeped in. She didn’t have time for a vision and shoved it away. But couldn’t quite shake the quiver in her belly. And this time it had nothing to do with seeing Niall again.
* * *
“THE CONSTRUCTION SITE Killer has struck again. A body of a man was discovered this morning on Arctic Avenue by four teens who had been using the homes under construction in the planned community as a hangout. Police are not releasing details pending notification of family members. But an unidentified source has confirmed that this is likely the fourth victim of Tidewater’s first serial killer. We’ll have more on this disturbing development on our sister station Channel Nine news tonight at eleven.”
Niall rolled his truck into the parking lot behind the Boxing Cat and cut the engine, silencing the news bulletin on the radio.
The Brunswick stew he’d eaten with his mother congealed in his stomach. And that seriously pissed him off. What the hell was this world coming to? A serial killer in Tidewater? It was bad enough he’d faced crazy-ass insurgents overseas defending his country, but to have a psycho in his hometown picking off people like it was his own personal horror movie?
Niall exited his Ford F-250, locking it out of habit and double-checking the lock with the news report still playing through his head. Barely through the door and he spotted a flurry of activity. So much for tonight being a light night as expected.
Virgil loaded a large pizza into the oven while Paulie sautéed mushrooms and spinach in a sizzling garlic butter sauce. Five dinner tickets waited to be filled and six plates loaded and ready to be served littered the counter.
“Boss, Dawn’s kid got sick. Sadie’s out there but she’s in the weeds,” Paulie called out over his shoulder. “I can’t leave the kitchen and Virgil’s not too steady with a trayful.”
“Bite your tongue, boy!” Virgil snapped, slamming the oven door closed. He turned to reach for the hot meals only to bang his side into the corner of the metal prep table. “Damn this old hip!”
“You hurt, Virgil?” Niall slid his backpack across the floor, sending it skidding into his office and checked on his oldest family friend.
“Nothing a little ice can’t fix.” Virgil waved away his concern. “I am old. The boy might be right. I don’t seem to be too steady.”
“Where’s Karma and Ross?” Niall asked, stacking the plates on a tray.
“Ross said he’d be back. We lost an entire tray of food about ten minutes ago. Some Navy guys came in and got fresh with Sadie. Don’t know what happened. Karma was calming her down out back. Didn’t you see them?” Virgil asked, hobbling over to the freezer and pulling out an ice pack.
“No.” Before Niall could say anything else, Paulie spoke up.
“Night’s been cray-cray, Boss. Dawn left before the dinner rush started and I do mean rush. Then some sailors from the USS South Carolina came in for their first at-home meal in months. Words and Sadie’s temper flew. The new girl managed to calm down the guests while Karma hustled Sadie outside. Then blam!” Paulie clapped his hands together. “One minute the new girl’s carrying out six meals, and the next, dishes and food all over the kitchen floor. She thought for sure she was going to be fired.”
Niall swept his gaze around the kitchen. The only trace of disaster in the room was confined to a few shards of what had likely been a plate in a corner.
“What new girl? Dawn’s out sick? Sadie and some sailors? Six meals lost? Sonofa . . .” His string of questions was more of babbled frustration than any real inquiry. Virgil, smart man, just seemed to know it.
“It’s fine, Niall,” Virgil said, patting his free hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Just our way of letting you know we’re glad you’re here to save us and not halfway around the world.”
Count on Virgil to be both poignant and joking in the same breath. Niall exhaled and smiled, since that was clearly what the old guy wanted.
“All right, since I am here, point me in the right direction.” Niall hoisted the tray onto his shoulder and turned for the door. “Where are these going?”
Paulie pulled the ticket off the counter. “Table four. Hey, when you get back, can you find Karma? Tell her to hurry up. FYI, that plate by your thumb is gluten free.”
Using his foot, Niall gently pushed open the swinging door. The rooms were lit by flickering candlelight on the tables and on the walls. The place was alive with guests at every table in every section. Clinks of silverware on plates, pings of ice cubes in glasses, and the murmur of the patrons’ voices added a homey ambience to the Cat.
Moments like these, Niall understood why Ross had wanted this building. There was an atmosphere of comfort and elegance to the place the old Cat never had. The cozy feel certainly, but not this genteel elegance enhanced by the flickering of the candles in the wall sconces in all four of the rooms.
He’d been expecting chaos but everything looked normal. And signs of being a very good night for the busine
ss. They almost never had a midweek night this packed in the other store. He’d have to remember to tell Ross . . . whenever his brother showed up again.
Niall made his way through the Master Room, down the narrow hallway separating it from the Three Bells, and through the glass-paneled door separating it from the Quarter Room.
Inside tables had been pulled together to change it from several two-tops to one six-top. The three sets of couples at the long table were surrounded by four more two-tops at each corner of the room, granting every guest the illusion of intimacy and privacy in the busy restaurant.
Pressing the curved handle down, Niall then used his left arm to shoulder open the glass French doors. The chatter at the six-top stopped as all eyes turned to him.
Smiling, he spotted the tray stand set up next to the table and lowered the tray. He lifted the first meal in the air. “Who had the gluten-free linguini with white clam sauce?”
Inexplicably, the patrons erupted in applause.
“Oh, thank you! I was just in the kitchen looking for this.” A familiar voice called out from behind him, “See you guys, I told you. The Boxing Cat would get your meal out to you before you knew it.”
Niall’s fingers, jaw, even his knees went slack as he turned to see Hannah of Heaven’s Gate. Her fairylike face alight with joy.
She was here.
His ears buzzed.
She was in his restaurant.
His heartbeat double-timed.
“Let me get that for you . . . uh, Boss,” she said, slipping the plate out of his hands.
She called him . . . Boss?
Oh, hell no.
CHAPTER 6
“BOSS?” NIALL FORCED the word between clenched teeth. He’d tried for a smile when he’d returned to the kitchen with Hannah, but judging by the way she rolled her pink braid between her fingertips, it wasn’t working.