He laughs and shakes his head. “Small world.”
“Yeah, it really is.” Crazy that this chef William Brady started in the same restaurant environment as I did. Yet he’s moved up, and I’ve resorted to flashing my ass and cleavage for tips… Wait a minute… Chef William. “Billy Brady,” I whisper. As in, the famous Food Network star. “You’re Billy Brady.”
He grimaces. “Guilty.”
My face heats, only doubling my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. If I would’ve recognized you sooner, I would’ve curtsied or something.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Please, don’t. I’m already so uncomfortable. My place is in the kitchen, not out here getting accolades.” Humor slowly dissolves from his face as he looks at me. “This is going to sound insane, but you mentioned looking for a job, and I’m hiring for my restaurant in Arizona. Would you be interested in moving to Scottsdale?”
“Are you offering me a job? For all you know, I could be a horrible waitress.”
He tilts his head. “Your skills were honed in the fires of a Barstow diner. That’s a great endorsement. But I’d love to hear more about your work history.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a card. “Let’s schedule a time to get together next week and talk more about it.”
I take the card from him and can’t think of the right words to say thank you. This is the biggest opportunity that has ever fallen into my lap. “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Mr. Brady. Thank you so much. I’ll call on Monday.”
“Perfect. And call me Billy.” He holds my eyes for a few seconds too long, and when I look away, he finally drops his gaze to the clipboard still in his hands. He scribbles down his bid and then places the clipboard back on the table. “I look forward to hearing from you, and…” He dips his chin to the table. “I’ll let you know if we won it.”
Oh shit, is he flirting with me?
No.
I take a look at his left hand as he walks away, and it’s bare—no gold band. But that doesn’t mean anything. After all, my ring finger is empty, too, and I’m falling hard for Alexander.
My breath hitches in my throat. What the hell…? Falling hard? No.
Or am I?
“What do you call what we have?”
“Temporary.”
That’s what he called us. He has no plans to fall in love with me. I’d be mindful to do the same.
I find the closest restroom, and when I walk out, I find Alexander waiting for me.
“How’d it go?”
“I never really know.” His expression is pinched. “Hudson did most of the talking.”
“You’re never going to believe who I met.”
He hooks my elbow and guides me toward the door. “Tell me in the car. If I don’t get out of here, I’ll be dragged into a million conversations, and I’m already at my limit.”
We grab our coats from the coat-check, and Murphy opens the back door of the SUV so we can escape the November night chill into the preheated backseat. The moment the car door closes, I turn to Alexander and give him a detailed retelling of my run-in with Billy Brady.
“We’re going to meet next week so he can give me more details!” I finally take a full breath, having blabbed faster than I could suck in a lungful of air. “I’ve never had this kind of opportunity before. To get in with a high-end restaurant early means there could be so many opportunities to advance.”
Alexander’s expression hasn’t changed since I started talking, as blank as always, but the air in the car has a noticeable shift as if the oxygen is slowly leaking from the space around us. I find myself holding my breath for fear that I won’t get a chance at another one.
The dim light makes it hard to read the tiny nuances of his expression that might give me some hint to what he’s feeling. But even in the dark, I can feel his disapproval.
“What do you think?” I ask cautiously.
He tears his eyes away from mine and looks forward.
“Do you have nothing to say?”
He doesn’t answer.
The car pulls to a stop in front of his building, and he jumps out of the car before me. By the time I scoot out of the seat, he’s already inside the building. I watch through the glass as he walks at a clipped pace to the elevator and slaps the button.
“Thank you, Murphy.”
He nods, and his warm grin feels like an apology.
I have to wait for the elevator as Alexander took it up ahead of me. With each second that passes, I feel my own irritation take root and sprout. When the carriage finally arrives, I’m fuming mad. What a child! If he has something to say, why doesn’t he just say it? He’s the one who said what we have is temporary. I’m over here doing everything in my power not to fall in love with him while he continues to push me away, and he can’t even be happy for me when I get an opportunity to make something of my life?
I storm off the elevator and into the penthouse, prepared to tell him exactly how I feel, but he’s nowhere to be found. Not in the bedroom, living room, kitchen.
I toss my purse on the bed and pull bobby pins from my hair while practicing my speech in my head. The second he gets back here from wherever he is, it is so on. Where could he possibly have gone? The last time he disappeared on me, he told me he was at the gym.
I stomp out of the penthouse, past the elevator, to the door on the opposite side. I punch in the code, hoping it’s the same as the code for his front door. Thankfully, it unlocks. When I walk in, I hear his guttural grunts in unison with knuckles smacking a punching bag.
Just like the rest of the building, everything is white and glass, and when I turn the corner, I see Alexander stripped down to nothing but his tuxedo pants, with his shirt, tie, jacket, shoes, and socks in a pile along the wall. His body seems bigger somehow, swollen and sweat-soaked as he throws his fists against the heavy bag.
He catches sight of me, his face contorted with an animalistic rage. “Get out!”
My heart jumps and stutters as adrenaline floods my veins.
He lunges toward me, but it’s as if his spine locks and refuses to let him take another step closer. “Get the fuck out! Now!”
“No.” The one syllable is like a pin drop in a room blasting heavy metal, and yet he hears it loud and clear.
He tilts his head and prowls closer. His heavy shoulders roll with each step, his fisted hands causing the veins in his forearms to protrude. His pants hang low on his hips, and every single muscle in his body is taut. “Leave. I won’t ask you again.”
His pupils are dilated, eating up all the hazel and leaving only a soulless black. I search for some semblance of Alexander, some whisper that my Grizzly is still in there. Only his hate-filled stare shines back.
Everything inside me screams to run in the opposite direction, but my feet carry me closer.
“Don’t test me!” His nostrils flare, and his breath saws in and out of his lungs.
I reach out to cup his jaw, and he smacks my arm out of the way.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls.
“Is this why you came here the night after dinner with your family? You thought you’d hurt me?”
“I really need you to go,” he says through clenched teeth.