Page 18 of R for Rough

Was he, now? So Tracy had talked about me.

Damn if that didn’t make me feel good.

As if sensing my watching him, Tracy looked over from where he and Abel were sitting, and he smiled carefully. He was a bit surprised too. It was usually me catching him staring.

I smiled back, and the reward was instant. He looked so relieved, and his smile widened.

The East Coast kinksters arrived a beat later, distracting Madigan and Abel—and Tracy too. Abel handled introductions, and I watched Tracy and—Kit, was it? They shook hands and fell into immediate chatting with Abel. Madigan and the two other Doms were all smiles too.

Alessia came out from the kitchen, presumably to make sure everything was running smoothly, and she spoke to the servers.

Soon enough, the kinky crowd got seated, and Tracy and Abel appeared to want to handle the orders. Tracy talked quietly to Aurora, one of our servers, who skipped their table. For now, at least. Tracy had about twenty minutes left on his break.

Which…wouldn’t be spent eating if he was going to play server to everyone.

First, he went over to the hostess desk to grab tablets for everyone. Second, he came over to the bar to fill a drink order.

“Hi, Chef,” he said happily. “I already like Kit! I hope they visit a lot. But Colt seems scary. Kinda like you.”

I chuckled under my breath, having heard that before.

“Don’t forget to eat, kid.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I already explained to them that I’m gonna grab my food right away.”

That was good.

“Want me to fix you up a burger or somethin’?” I asked.

He paused filling a beer, and he chewed on his lip. “You’d do that for me?”

What?

It was a burger, not a kidney.

“You gotta eat,” I pointed out. Screw it, I’d get started right away. I slid off my stool and plated whatever was left from my own burger for later. “No pickles, right?”

“Right.” He stared at me while I threw a patty on the grill and grabbed a bun. “Thank you, Sir.”

When he had all the drinks for the East Coast visitors—and himself—he went back to their table. And when I glanced at them over my shoulder, I saw Tracy was whispering something to Abel, which caused the boy to look my way.

Now what?

Abel beamed.

I furrowed my brow and looked back to the grill again.

Damn brats.

Coho had enough loyal fans who enjoyed a late dinner to always fill our last service. Things got busy at nine o’clock, and Adam and I lost the next hour by the grill. Burgers to perfection, always at medium, with melted cheese, freshly made buns, crisp lettuce, caramelized onions, and Adam’s Coho dressing. At least, that was his signature burger. We had mastered steaks and brisket too, not to mention the catch of the day for me, served like fish and chips with our own twist. Lightly breaded and seared, plenty of melted butter and lemon drizzled on top, roasted potatoes, in a basket with fake newspaper wrapping. Three dipping sauces.

Whenever Tracy came out to finish tickets, his gaze wandered over to Madigan’s dinner party—and it made me hope, for Tracy’s sake, that he got to experience more of this. His meal break hadn’t been enough. I’d watched them earlier, and Tracy had seemed so happy chatting with Abel and Kit.

One of the Tops—Colt, I was fairly sure—came over to the bar when Tracy and Adam got one of the last orders ready.

Tracy split his attention and glanced at Colt. “Is everything okay, Sir?”

“More than okay, little one,” Colt replied. “Just wanted to give my compliments to the chef. I’m not sure even Texas can compete with that brisket.”

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