Page 4 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

Carlos leaves and comes back with another tray as we all scoop these delicious looking bites onto our plates.

“I have a pasta special too,” Wren adds. “It’s a spicy primavera sauce over linguine with grilled shrimp and asparagus slivers.”

“Ooh, give me that,” Salem says, reaching for a plate.

We dig in, sampling and discussing each dish. The guys always have a lot to say, but I’m a simple guy with average tastes—pretty easy to impress, in other words. I think of it from the customer perspective though, and this is a nice way to appeal to the lunch and dinner crowd.

“The sushi taco is amazing,” Kit says. “And I don’t even love sushi.”

“Thanks, man,” Wren says.

I realize he’s looking at me, and as I drag a piece of bread through the pasta sauce, I grin. “It’s good.”

“You like it?”

“This is my favorite. And the meatball too.”

He smiles, nodding. “Good. Oakley?”

“The crostini isn’t my jam for lunch or dinner, but I’d eat them if I was just coming in for a quick drink. Like a snack. The other stuff is fantastic.”

“Okay, good notes.”

Wren and Carlos clean up the dishes while the rest of us start prepping for dinner service. We’ve tweaked our schedule and started closing for two hours in the middle of the day when it was always slow so we can take a break ourselves.

Kit usually goes to see Stewart, while Indy and Salem “take a nap” as they call it, but we all know it’s another round. Jerryn and Bane play video games in the office while Lowen works on paperwork if he’s here.

Me? I just hang around talking to Florian or scrolling hookup apps out of habit. Now that it’s been getting warmer, I go sit on the patio sometimes and read a book or people watch. Wren never leaves. He cleans the kitchen, preps for the next service, sometimes even comes out to have a drink and shoot the shit.

And that’s why I never leave. Those few times when he comes out of the kitchen and hangs around. At the house, he generally stays in his room. I’ve started sitting in the common living room a lot more, but he doesn’t come down often.

It is, honestly, getting ridiculous. I gotta find a way to get over this guy. He’s obviously not interested in me, and even if he was, that’s a recipe for disaster. I don’t want to be his rebound any more than he wants to be another notch on my bedpost. At least, that’s what I’m assuming. It’s not like we’ve talked about it, but Salem says Wren has always been a relationship guy and he’s recovering from a tough one. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him as an option.

As soon as I get a guy in my bed, the thrill of it is gone. It’s some kind of fucked up game in my head, I guess. All the excitement is in the anticipation and never in the reality. That’s why it’s best I just get the gorgeous man out of my head and find something else to do.

And soon, before I do something stupid.

TWO

WREN

By the timewe close the kitchen for the night, I’m bone tired. My muscles ache, my feet hurt, and I could use a deep tissue massage. Thank fuck tomorrow is Sunday.

Exiting the kitchen, I glance around at the still busy bar, peeling off my chef’s jacket and taking one of the seats at the bar top. As tired as I am, I need to decompress before I head home.

Florian notices me and leans on the bar in front of me. “What can I get you, friend?”

“Fuck me up. I want to pass out when I get home.”

Florian chuckles. “One ‘fuck me up.’ Got it.”

He begins pouring a concoction of liquor while I glance out at the people who make this place successful. Following my instinct to apply for this job was the best decision I ever made, and it led to me finally being able to ditch my ex. I thought it might be weird living with my bosses, but it’s not at all. They live their own lives for the most part, but come together on Sundays. It’s been nice to feel like I’m part of something.

There’s no more yelling, no more drunk groping, no more cheating. Just a quiet room all to myself. It’s perfect. Except…

I smile when Florian slides the drink in front of me. I take a sip and nearly choke, thumping my fist against my chest.

“Damn.”

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