Laughter rippled down the line.
“Stop talking so much. We’re tired of hearing it!” he called out, earning another few chuckles interspersed with clanging utensils.
“Seriously, Dopey,” called the guy putting together a salad at cold side. “Hamilton’s right. You’re yapping our ears off.”
I turned and faced Hamilton—the degenerate line cook. He was taller than me and had a protruding gut, red beard, and no hair on top of his head.
“Aww. I hurt his feelings.” Hamilton sneered, the word “feelings” coming out in baby talk like “fee-wings.”
That’s it.
My lip curled. I reached around my back, untied my apron, and slipped it over my head. Devlin wasn’t going to like this.
“Where you going, Chatty?” Hamilton goaded. “Don’t go away mad. Just go—”
I stepped behind the line, balled my fist, and popped him in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and onto the steak sizzling away on the flattop grill. The salad guy backed into the counter when I turned on him.
I lifted my eyebrows, asking him silently if he had anything to add.
He didn’t.
A swearing, bleeding Hamilton made a lot of noise, but he wasn’t interested in challenging me further. Instead, he held his palm over his gushing nose and yelled at a few other guys to put a new steak on the grill and get back to work.
I shook out my hand. Son of a bitch, that hurt.
As I was flexing my fingers, I saw someone approach behind me. I turned and raised my fist, ready to take out whoever was barreling at me and stopping short when I saw it was Dev.
It spoke to how far we’d come that I didn’t take a swing at him.
Hamilton tattled, shouting about how I’d hit him. Shouting about how it was unprovoked. The salad guy backed him, saying that I’d walked up and punched Hamilton in the face for no reason whatsoever. Then he slid me a side eye like he was daring me to say something. Asshole.
I spoke only when absolutely necessary. And even right now, with my ass on the line, it was not necessary.
“Everybody calm down. Get back to work.” Devlin looked the authority in his suit, but Hamilton was aware Dev was ten years his junior.
“You know what, Calvary? I don’t think I will.” Hamilton yanked his apron off and wiped it across his bloody face.
“I need you back there tonight, man,” Devlin said, holding out a palm to stop him.
“I’m injured. I’m heading to the ER.” Hamilton’s voice was flat, a smile cresting his stupid mouth. “I may have to sue. Or get workers’ comp.”
“And I may have to call the cops, since I know you have weed in your locker.”
Hamilton froze.
“But go ahead. Take the rest of the night off.” Devlin’s voice was steel, and the look he gave Hamilton said he would deal with him later. Dev turned to me next. “Out. Get out of my kitchen.”
I didn’t argue, not that I would have anyway, simply shrugged past him, ignoring the cheers of my coworkers. Mocking voices rose behind me. Comments like “Chatterbox” and “Dopey’s going to cry” nipped at my heels as I exited the kitchen. Through my very red vision blurred by rage, I barely noticed when I ran into the blonde right outside the doorway.
Soft curves met my chest, and my hands instinctively came up and curled around small shoulders. I was eye to eye with the bluest blue eyes and the softest, pinkest lips I’d ever seen.
I blinked as if she were a mirage.
Tasha
I had just come out of the ladies’ room when I smacked into a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. It was Cade. And he was…seething. His fists were balled at his sides, his eyes unseeing as he looked down at me. The moment he recognized me, those hands rose to steady me and his features softened. The transformation was astounding.
The way his eyebrows returned to their neutral stations and his mouth softened and his thumbs brushed over my shoulders in silent apology.