Her Danger, His Heaven

MAVE

A week of shifts goes by, and no other incidents occur—mostly because the Lions stay away.

Jack was relieved the following day when I came back. He said he was actually quite surprised I did, but he was grateful, because—by anyone’s standards—being assaulted on your first day isn’t exactly a big selling point.

Today, Jack is out of town, which leaves me and Trixi managing the diner alone. It’s been slow but steady, and we have time to perch behind the counter for a few minutes between serving. But by evening, it’s dead, so Trixi suggests we start cleaning up a little early.

While I’m sweeping, I hear her curse loudly.

“Shit!”

I look at her across the diner. “Everything okay?”

“Fuck! No! Um…” She looks around in frustration, and I realize she has her phone in her hand. “Get your stuff. I need to close up.”

“But we have an hour before closing. We can’t shut that early. Jack will flip!”

“I know. You’re right.” She grabs her hair by the fistful. “Fuck!”

“Trix, what’s wrong?” I ask again.

She sighs. “It’s my puppy… No judging!” she snaps, pointing a finger at me, and I hold my hands up.

“Why would I judge you about a puppy?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want you thinking I’m soft.”

I stare at her. “Trixi…”

“Whatever. Anyway, my mom’s rushed him to the vet clinic, and I’ve only just seen the message. She thinks he’s broken his leg falling down the stairs in my apartment building.” She’s holding it together, but the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” I look around at all the empty tables and the setting sun. Alice won’t be long. Since my first day, she’s been arriving a little earlier to pick me up, anyway.

I look at Trixi. “You go. I’ll lock up.”

She looks around just like I did, then looks at her phone, then back at me. “Are you sure, Mave?”

“Are you kidding! Go. Seriously. No one’s here, and Alice will be here soon. I’ll keep the door locked. Go—be there for your puppy!”

She sighs, giving me sympathetic eyes with her hands in a prayer. “Thank you, May! Honestly!”

I smile. “Just give him a kiss for me.”

She nods, heading to the back to grab her bag. She passes the keys to me before she leaves. “You’re a lifesaver. Call me for anything, okay?”

I nod with a smile, popping the keys in my apron pocket, and follow her to the door to lock it behind her.

With a final wave, she runs across the quiet street to her car before jumping in and peeling away.

I turn back to the empty restaurant, nibbling on my lip, and go back to sweeping.

Even though I told Trixi I would be fine, I can’t deny that it’s a little unnerving to be alone here at night. So, I turn up the music a little to take the edge off while I wipe the counters.

I’m singing away to “Jolene” by Dolly Parton—it’s a guilty pleasure of mine—when a bang on the door makes me squeak.

I turn around slowly.

A large figure leans against the frame of the outer door, obscured by shadows cast by the wall. I can already tell what kind of person he is.

Shit.

I approach cautiously, but he doesn’t move an inch. When I reach the glass, I call through softly, “We’re closed.”

I see the white of his teeth as he chuckles. “No, you’re not. Open the door. Don’t make me say it.” Even though his words are threatening, his tone is surprisingly light.

I take in a breath, looking through the glass anxiously, but he appears to be alone in the dusky evening.

I don’t want to lose my job for not letting a lion in, so I flick the lock and open the door.

He steps through in his heavy biker boots, and I keep my eyes down as I shut and lock the door behind him. He walks silently up to the counter, where he sits down on a stool. I have to remind myself to breathe.

He sighs, looking down at the menu, and I tense.

“I am alone. You don’t have to stare at the floor.”

I nod and slowly lift my head. “Sorry, I—I pause.”

Jason.

He doesn’t appear to notice my sudden silence. He’s looking down at the menu, barely acknowledging me, but it gives me a second to study him.

I’m not surprised I didn’t recognize his voice. He looks a lot different than he used to—older, slightly more rugged.

A new silvery scar has sliced clean through his right eyebrow, and there’s a small ring in the left side of his straight nose.

He’s grown a beard too—not a disgusting, long, bushy one but a short, styled, and sleek one that cuts across his jaw in perfect straight lines.

His hair is still that natural deep muddy-looking brown, but the style has changed. It’s now a slightly longer version of a military-style cut.

He’s also still ridiculously tall, if not maybe even taller than he was. And he’s slim with an athletic build. Thick arms hide beneath his crew leather jacket.

And, of course, he’s still undeniably hot.

I’ve never actually been this close to him. He always seemed to keep his distance from everyone in school.

When he looks up from under his brows, piercing green eyes lock onto my blue ones, causing me to suck in a breath; it feels like they look straight through me.

“Steak. Rare. Fat off. Peppercorn sauce—the fresh one made from scratch, not that pre-made shit from the tub. Fresh fried mushrooms, and a side of fries,” he says plainly, his voice holding nothing but cool dominance.

Words fail me. I chew on my lip, looking back over my shoulder through the hatch and into the empty kitchen.

“Problem?” he asks, and I face him.

“Th-the cook has gone home…,” I reply quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed. Trixi usually takes over the kitchen for the last hour before closing because the chef always comes in early.

Jason remains silent and looks me up and down, his eyes leaving a heated trail in their wake. “You have hands,” he states, and I nod stupidly. “Well, then… I think your problem is resolved.”

I blush a little and nod again, taking the menu from his held-out hand and tucking it beneath the counter with the others.

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” I ask in a sheepish tone.

“Water’s fine.” His eyes still haven’t left me. Even when I turn to pour his water, I can feel them on me from behind.

I place the glass down with a slightly shaking hand, and a whisper of a smile crosses his lips before it’s gone again.

“Off you go,” he orders gently.

I nod again, rendered completely speechless by his soft but demanding tones, and turn quickly to head into the kitchen.

I start by grabbing everything I need but still don’t feel like I can breathe, because I know he’s watching me through the open hatch.

After dunking the fries in the fat, I get started on the steak. Slicing off the rim of thick fat, I pepper both sides as I would my own before laying it in the heated pan with a satisfying hiss.

With my mental timer on, I slice up some mushrooms and set them aside, ready for frying up last. Then I toss the fries and grab the cream for the sauce, along with some stock and peppercorns that I smash roughly with a rolling pin.

Checking the steak quickly, I find it’s perfect. So, I dish it up to rest while I flick on the mushrooms and multitask while making the sauce.

I hesitate before adding a dash of my secret ingredient—a little shot of brandy for flavor. It’s how I prefer it, but should I really be taking risks right now?

I add it anyway, then plate everything up in the most presentable way my skills will allow before carrying it out on a tray.

Jason’s eyes haven’t left me for even a second.

I smile my best customer-service smile and step away. He looks down at the food, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I immediately begin to regret the brandy.

Lifting his cutlery, he cuts into the meat, checking its color, and nods. Adding a mushroom and some sauce, he holds out the fork, looking at me expectantly, and I flush.

“Eat it,” he demands.

My mouth opens and closes like a fish in my confusion. “Wh-wha—”

“I’ve never met you,” he interrupts me. “If you eat it, I can trust you’ve done nothing to it. It’s nothing personal.”

I don’t know why I look around the empty diner, but I do. Then I step forward, gulp past the lump in my throat, and open my mouth stupidly like a child as he brings the fork closer.

I seal my lips around the tines, taking the food off as he withdraws it slowly. He fully watches me as I chew and swallow the mouthful.

With a satisfied nod, he goes about starting to eat it himself. I quickly snatch up a clean fork and place it beside his plate.

He looks at it strangely, like I’m crazy for offering it, and then proceeds to completely ignore it. Stabbing the same fork I used into his food, he pops it into his mouth.

Why is that so damn attractive?

At that moment, my stomach decides now is a good time to rumble—loudly.

He looks up with slight humor in his eyes and raises a brow.

I clamp a hand over my belly, like that would dull the sound. “I’m so sorry. I—”

“Sit,” he says calmly.

“S-sorry?”

“Sit,” he says again, a little firmer—and pulls out the stool beside him.