Page 20 of Sizzle

I hate not being able to push her about it. She’s an employee. If we stretch the definition, maybe she’s even a friend now, but not the kind I can press for answers on personal stuff.

It’s driving me fucking crazy. Surely there’s something I can do to help.

I’m doing a walkthrough in the dining room when the lights flicker. This brings a raucous cheer from the bar, which makes me laugh. Speaking of crazy.

Back in the kitchen, the guys have things under control. We’re almost through the busiest part of the night, which means it’s time to start cutting people loose. Joelle gets out first tonight because she’s the newest, so I catch her eye and give her the signal to start cleaning up. The last three weeks I’ve come up with every possible reason to keep her around as long as possible but tonight I’m tapped out. I can only hope she’ll stick around until the weather breaks.

Yeah, it’s down to that. I’ll take whatever I can of her time.

Despite my doubts, she’s turning out to be a good fit at Duckbill. She gets along with the rest of the staff, even earning the respect of the long-termers, which isn’t easy. Connie’s damn near adopted her. She caught me looking at Joelle a little too long the other day, which got me one of Connie’s infamous death ray glares, the likes of which I’d only ever heard rumors about until Joelle came around.

The new menu is coming along, too. I think we’re just about ready for a test run, maybe as early as next week. I’ll get Alex in one night to sit down with me and Joelle so we can try it all.

For some reason, the thought of sharing a meal with Alex and Joelle both makes me shiver, and my dick stirs.

Fuck’s sake. I’m seriously considering locking myself in my office for five minutes to take care of business when the lights flicker again and then blink off completely.

The cheer from the bar is deafening but the rest of the building has gone eerily quiet. No humming from the air vents in the ceiling, no roar of the kitchen exhaust fans. As the bar patrons calm down, murmuring at the other tables picks back up but without the usual mechanical background soundtrack.

It’s not the first time we’ve lost power during business hours but this is the first time it’s happened at the peak of rush on a Friday night. I wave at Anna, my assistant manager, and meet her halfway through the dark dining room. There’s just enough light coming through from the streetlights across the highway to see where we’re walking, but not much beyond.

“Get the staff back into the kitchen,” I tell her. She nods, already speed-walking away to round up the servers.

I head back to the kitchen, barking out orders as fast as I can. Once the gas cooktops are shut down, the cooks plate up what they can. I send the servers out with the last of the meals before turning my attention to everybody else.

“Shut it!” I yell to get everybody’s attention.

The yelling only works sometimes. Luckily today I don’t have to start swearing. That never fails to make them laugh, which also gets their attention, but right this minute we’ve got too much to do to dick around.

“Here’s the plan,” I say, pitching my voice as loud as I can so they can all hear me. “We’re going to give it thirty minutes. Keep the drinks coming. Don’t charge for refills unless it’s alcohol. We’re going to have to use the paper receipt machine. Keep an eye on your cash tallies and do not lose those paper copies. If you don’t have food coming out, starting cleaning up or see if somebody nearby needs help.”

I dismiss them with a wave and head back to my office for extra flashlights. The stupid squeaking door signals an arrival behind me.

“What do you want?” I bark out without looking up.

“Is that actually how you talk to your employees?” says Alex. I jump a little, slamming my head into the overhead cabinet.

Fourteen or so expletives later, I stop for a breath.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I was at the bar waiting on dinner,” he says, his thick arms crossed over his chest. “Thought I’d come to see if you need any help back here.”

I’m rubbing the back of my head. Going to be one helluva knot, not to mention a headache. Goddamn it.

“How’s it looking out there?”

“You mean the storm? Getting worse,” he says, leaning back against the door.

My office is small to begin with. You put me in here with any other human and it’s close quarters. You put me and Alex in here together and there’s no such thing as personal space.

Now that I think about it, he’s never been in here.

My heart is pounding. If I managed to give myself a goddamn concussion, I’m going to be pissed.

Except my head already feels a little better, so maybe it’s not that—which makes no sense. I’m not nervous. It’s just Alex, why would I be nervous?

“You’ve been avoiding me.”