Page 32 of A Sip of Sin

Hollen let out a breath. He’d thought he would be faced with the same reaction as Adair’s. Things had improved on that front, but there was still a tenseness to the air every time they were in the same room.

“Does he have a name, or does that give you power over him?” asked Sean, making air quotes with his filthy hands. He chuckled as he pushed hard against the dough, the ball stretching smoothly before he folded it over itself again.

“His real name is hard for me to remember, so I just call him George. He’s cool with it.” Hollen smiled, shifting closer to Sean. His hands were huge, practically pulverizing the dough as he stretched and turned it with practiced ease.

“You best get the next one out there, kid,” said Sean, nodding to the piled tray that the lady had set out just a few minutes before. “For as long as they live, I’ve never met a patient vamp.”

“Thanks, Sean.”

“No problem, kid.” Sean tossed the rounded ball on a fresh metal tray, reaching for another chunk. “Stick around. It’s nice to talk to another mostly regular guy who isn’t hypnotized to the teeth.”

Hollen frowned, his gaze locked on the lady as she started on another tray. Her movements were smooth and meticulous, but Sean was right. She didn’t speak—not a word, her eyes glazed and distant. When she stared at him, there was nothing behind the emptiness as she lookedthroughhim.

What the hell?He took a step back with one tray in his hands, quickly retreating from the kitchen.

Entering the dining room, he had to blink to see through the shadows of the low lights, the warmth enhanced by the spiciness of tea. He approached the next table, desserts held high so he could easily slip the tower onto the middle of it. There were two seated vampires that were speaking another language, and they gave him about the same amount of attention as every other table had.

It wasn’t as if there were any questions between them. Every group got the same glass and food for a menu that Sean had mentioned changed every time he desired. There were no substitutions—no extras, only tea and treats before they would leave.

It was one of the strangest restaurants he’d ever been a part of. There were others when his notebook would be full at the end of the night with lists of substitutions and all of the questions he’d had to ask the kitchen. This was almost monotonous in its simplicity.

One of the vampires snatched a treat from the tray, taking a small nibble before offering it to the other. He grasped it from his fingers with his mouth, dragging his tongue to wipe the traces of fresh cream away. The first one grinned, a fond look on his face as he brushed some stray cream from his partner’s bottom lip.

It wassweet—not the biting and slashing that Hollen had expected and had seen before. They were all new faces, too, except the one woman who watched him from a far table. Someone else had served her, and she had mostly ignored the tray, her gaze locked on Hollen every time he came and went.

When Hollen turned away, an empty tray clutched in his hands, he spotted Munro standing at the entrance to the kitchen, a soft look on his face. He regarded the room with a regal type of relaxation that Hollen hadn’t seen before. There was no edge—no hunger—just contentment.

Hollen looked away, heat rising to his cheeks. He’d managed to avoid Munro for hours, only for him to appear right now. He’d seen him in passing once or twice, always managing to slip out of view. He just wasn’t exactly sure what was expected.

“You’re doing well,” said Munro as he approached, opening the swinging door to the kitchen for him. “Not a single spill.”

I guess we’re not talking about it.But it was impossible for Hollen to forget the feeling of Munro’s lips against his—or the taste of him that flooded his senses.

“Well.” He glanced down at his shirt. A peach had been left on one of the trays, and it had been slippery enough to slide straight off the surface and onto his chest. He’d scrubbed at it right away, but there was still a tiny spot left behind that he only noticed when he squinted.

“You look good.” Munro followed him into the kitchen, not looking at Sean, even as the chef inclined his head. “I was worried you wouldn’t come after what happened.”

Hollen’s cheeks burned, and he ducked his head, pointedly not looking at Sean. “It’s a good thing I did. I remember more servers when I came here. Did you fire everyone but the four of us?” It was busy enough that he could have used another two sets of hands to keep up.

“Something like that,” said Munro. Sean snorted as he wiped his work surface clean. He’d made close to forty balls of dough, each almost exactly the same size, despite how Hollen hadn’t seen a scale once.

“Oh, God.” Hollen covered his mouth with his free hand, his stomach protesting. “Did you eat them?”

Now Sean really did laugh, shaking his head before he turned to the loaves that had been proofing for an hour. Removing the plastic, he slapped them into oiled tins with expert precision.

“Remember what I said, kid? Munro’s one of the good ones.” Sean chuckled as he looked over his shoulder. “Right, boss?”

Munro pressed his lips into a thin line, shooting Sean a mild glare. “They weren’t to my tastes.” He found Hollen with his gaze, softening right away. “I have to hypnotize my employees to keep them from seeing who and what passes through the doors. I can only make it last so long before I return them home, their memories somewhat blank and their bank account adequately compensated.”

“Oh.”That’s not as bad as I thought.Hollen chewed on his lip.But why not me?

“He’s lying,” said George, his voice startling Hollen so badly that he jerked, the tray falling from his hands. Luckily it was empty this time, metal clattering against the hard tile of the kitchen.

“I don’t think so,” said Hollen, lowering his voice as he bent to retrieve it. There was a small dent in the corner, pressed into the immaculately designed surface.

“George?” asked Sean as Hollen stood, grinning as he grabbed a dozen more loaf pans to fill. “You have to tell that guy to give you a break.”

Hollen chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “He certainly has his opinions, and he doesn’t like Munro very much. Sorry, Munro.”

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