Page 18 of His Middle

Tears pricked the backs of Noah’s eyes. Sure, he was glad things had resolved themselves, but a fewmonths? That was the whole time Noah had been mourning the loss of his dad. Was Garth trying on other boys for size because he didn’t want the hassle of caring for a grieving, suddenly very busy one?

Noah gritted his teeth but couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What a fuckingasshole! That was a total dick move from a walking dickhead who’s a, a…dick!”

Sawyer stood frozen in the kitchen threshold, one side of the swinging doors held open. “I hope you’re not referring to me.” He stepped into the room. “I actually came back to let you know I gave Dirk his walking papers, and if Marcus doesn’t return the message I left, or doesn’t show up at all, then I’ll be giving him a written warning.”

The idea that Sawyer could think for even one second that Noah thought he was an asshole filled him with mortification. The rest of what Sawyer had said after that barely registered.

“Oh my God, no. I wasn’t talking about you at all. I just found out that Garth has been cheating on me.” Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up, and if Noah wasn’t mistaken, he thought he spotted a flicker of anger cross his features. “Oh, and he broke up with me, too.” Noah held up the remnants of the note he hadn’t realized he’d been shredding. “Our relationship warranted three whole sentences.”

Arlen interjected, “That’sthe asshole he was talking about. I say good riddance. Noah deserves way better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Noah nudged Arlen’s boot with his Chucks. Hard. Sawyer seemed to be experiencing some inner battle. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, his jaw ticking before he took a breath and spoke.

“Yes.” Sawyer locked eyes with him. “You deserve much better. I’m sorry you got hurt by someone who clearly wasn’t worthy of you.” His expression softened. “We can talk about it later, if you’d like. But right now…” He pointed at the clock. “It’s almost eleven thirty. Until the next person comes on shift,ifthey show up, it’s the three of us running this place.”

Noah’s anxiety kicked into gear again. “What should we do?”

No point in pretending he had any clue how to handle the situation.

“Help Arlen in here until noon. Slice tomatoes, onions, set up the food prep station. Arlen? What are the three easiest things you can prepare out of what’s on the menu?”

“Hamburger, hot dog, PB and J.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve never used the fryer before, but I could probably figure it out.”

Sawyer shook his head. “Hell no. I won’t take a chance on you getting hurt. Do you guys carry chips, or fruit cups or anything you can serve as a side instead of fries?”

Noah dragged one of the boxes from the latest snack delivery out from under the long table. “I’d say a big yes to that. Looks like no one’s bothered to put anything away yet.” He held up cheese puffs, potato chips and bagged popcorn. “We could use this and either an applesauce or fruit cup on the side with every order.”

Sawyer smiled. “Perfect. Do you guys have the ingredients to make quesadillas, or is that on the menu?”

Arlen was already in the process of picking out the single serving snack bags from the box. “Yeah. There’s a four cheese one on the menu.”

Sawyer tapped his chin with one finger. “Hmm. I was trying to come up with a special to keep patrons from feeling disappointed about the reduced menu, but at the same time I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Noah was helping Arlen arrange the bags in a couple baskets to the side of the prep area. “Well,” said Arlen. “It’s summertime, so what about a Nutella sandwich on that fancy artisan white bread we use for the deli sandwiches served with a side of fresh fruit? We’ve got strawberries, oranges, bananas and melon.” He snickered. “Wasn’t Dirk already slicing that shit up?”

Sawyer barked out a laugh. “Good thinking. I noticed you have a board up front with activities listed. How about I change that to what’s on the menu today, along with the Nutella special, and I’ll collect the regular menus and keep them behind the bar for now?”

Arlen grabbed a plastic-covered cardboard tray of hamburger buns from the rack behind him. “Sounds like a plan. And go ahead and add the quesadilla. Dickhead No-Show made some fresh guac last night. Might as well use it before it gets all weird and brown.”

“Great thinking.” Sawyer regarded Noah. “Once you’ve helped him with prep, join me on the floor. Like I said, I’ve put in time behind a bar or two.” He winked. “You can fill me in on the different drink selections that are offered. Depending on how involved they are, we might narrow that down to the most popular.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

Noah’s anxiety was gradually transforming into a sense of exhilaration. Even though they were under high-pressure circumstances, being in the trenches and actively working together to find a solution was so much more satisfying than being slowly buried alive in the dark, dreary office by himself.

Sawyer glanced over his shoulder right before he left the kitchen. “Also, start thinking who we can call in to cover shifts. I planned on discussing reliable employees back in the office later today but looks like we’ll have to multi-task and do it up front.”

He smiled. “You got it.”

The time went by in a flash as Noah worked at top speed to give Arlen as much support as he could before leaving him on his own. It was almost noon and their cook was still a no-call, no-show—so Noah assumed that was that. Arlen was in charge of the kitchen for the day. Noah hoped like hell the night staff wouldn’t pull the same stunt.

As Noah slowly approached the long bar, he couldn’t help but allow himself a minute to soak in the hunky goodness that was Sawyer. He worked quickly and efficiently, moving with an athlete’s grace that spoke to his physical prowess. Now that everything with Garth had abruptly resolved, Noah ached to get closer to Sawyer. Despite confessing to Sawyer he wanted to end things with Garth anyway, he wasn’t sure if Sawyer would think badly of him for moving on so fast.

Sawyer glanced up from where he’d been wiping the oak surface. “Hey, there you are.” He tossed down the rag. “It’s filthy back here. Even if other staff comes in, I’d like to spend the day doing a deep clean, going through everything. For example, these syrup bottle pourers are disgusting. I don’t think they’ve been cleaned in months.”

He shook his head. “One of the first things you need is a floor manager. Someone to oversee front staff, maintenance and handle vendors. Then you need a back office manager for payroll, invoices and membership evaluations.” Sawyer rubbed his chin. “Possibly event bookings as well. We’ll work out a division of labor for everyone then have a staff meeting, figure out who’s behind Club Playpen and who isn’t.” Sawyer furrowed his brow. “Do you have an employee handbook to give out to new hires?”

Oh God.

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