Page 20 of The Way We Are

Ryan

“I’m coming, for fuck’s sake.”

My last three words are for my ears, but I grumble them loud enough the waiters at Bob’s know I’m close to blowing my top. They’ve been ringing the bell on the kitchen counter at a record pace today. I haven’t had even a second to run my night with Savannah through my head for the hundredth time. With my sleep as lacking as my patience, I’m in a horrible mood.

“Order 153 up.” I slide a loaded burger across the stainless-steel shelf before hitting the bell they’re in love with twice.

“Thanks, Sugar,” Marnie, a newly recruited waiter at Bob’s praises with a flirty wink.

She adds an extra swing to her hips while delivering the burger to a dark-haired man sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. I don't know if the extra shake of her impressive curves is for her customer or me, but they gain the attention of nearly every male in the room.

After scraping chunks of grease into the trap at the bottom of the skillet, I yank off my apron, dump it on the counter, and head to the back entrance of Bob’s.

“I’m going on my break. I’ll be back in ten,” I advise anyone listening. With the lunch rush keeping me well occupied, I’m overdue for a break.

A refreshing ocean breeze smacks my face when I swing open the back door of Bob’s. The contrasting temperatures between the kitchen I've been slaving in the past six hours and outside is unimaginable. It feels like I’m walking out of a sauna to jump into a freezing lake. It's divine.

I've barely sucked in a non-greasy breath when Marnie says, "Not so fast, Sugar. You've got a visitor."

I try not to get my hopes up that my visitor has honey-colored hair. When I crank my neck back to Marnie, she nudges her head to a booth in the far right corner. Disappointment slashes me open when I notice the person seated at the back of the restaurant has hair as dark as mine.

“Not happy with his burger?” I pace closer to Marnie, recognizing it’s the same man she just finished serving. “I cooked his order as requested: medium rare, the onions extra burned. I even buttered his bun, for fuck’s sake.”

Not bothered by the curse words, Marnie shrugs, her confusion as apparent as mine.

“Please play nice,” she begs when she spots the annoyance crossing my face. “This guy screams big tip.”

“That’s not the onlybigvibe he’s screaming,” Pattie adds on, the seductiveness in her tone making me gag.

Pattie is the manager at Bob’s. She’s also older than my mother—enough said.

Shaking away the scary thoughts, I make a beeline for the disgruntled customer. The faster I get our exchange over, the faster I can clear the confusion still muddling my mind from last night. I doubt hours of deliberation can clear my bewilderment—but I’m hopeful.

“Is there a problem with your burger?” I keep my tone low, hoping the cap on my head will conceal my age.

Any time Bob’s has a disgruntled customer, the male staff handles them. Considering I'm the oldest male on the payroll, nearly all the fire-dosing tasks get shunted to me. A majority of the time, the customer accepts my offer of a refund before moving on. Sadly, some think an overcooked patty is a good excuse for a war of words. Then there are ones who want to take it even further. With my mood teetering, I hope this guy is a walk away with a lousy tip type of customer.

“The burger is fine. Cooked as requested,” the man replies, his tone as deep as mine. “I’m more interested to hear how you faired last night?”

My brows furrow as I dip my chin to get a closer look at the man’s profile. The reason for his imposing question comes to light when a pair of steel-gray eyes stare back at me.

“You secured a fight?” I ask, glancing down at Isaac’s busted knuckles while sliding into the bench seat across from him.

He smiles, his face as youthful as it was last night. “Not in the ring, but a win’s a win.”

“That it is,” I reply with a nod.

Most people would see Isaac’s confidence as off-putting. I don’t. It’s addictive. It stokes the fire in my belly with fresh wood, awakening my ego from the hazy cloud it’s been hiding in the past twelve hours. I’ve always been a little competitive, and Isaac’s cockiness enflames it. Not in a bloodthirsty, cutthroat type of way, just a bit of friendly competition between two equal counterparts. Isaac is obviously wealthier than me, and he's a couple of years older, but seeing how successful he is fills me with hope that I’m not going to spend the rest of my life flipping burgers.

I hook my ankle onto my knee when Isaac slides a plain white envelope across the table. “What’s that?” The curiosity I was hoping to conceal with my laidback approach echoes in my tone.

Isaac quirks a brow. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Never patient, I rip open the unsealed flap in less than two seconds. My already wild heart rate kicks up when bundles of hundred dollar bills reflect back at me.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask Isaac before my gaze darts sideways, ensuring no one is witnessing our exchange.

This looks so fishy, I’m anticipating an undercover officer jumping out of the bushes to arrest me for conspiracy to commit a crime.

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