Feeling the Heat

by Jill Haven

  My mouth twisted into a wry grin. With that level of closeness, Ryker had to be chatting up an omega. I skimmed my gaze over the second man. A very good-looking omega, too.

  Letting loose a sigh, I turned to leave. No point in ruining Ryker’s night, too.

  “Hey, Ewin!” Ryker boomed my name across the space.

  I hadn’t meant him to see me, and I only half turned back with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch you later, Ry. I think I’m just gonna head home.” The more I thought about it, the better laying my head on my pillow and forgetting the world sounded.

  Although I’d come in looking to drink to forget, a little alcohol-based memory-wiping assistance, maybe that wasn’t the best idea before another full day at the restaurant tomorrow.

  “No, man. No way!” Ryker hopped off his stool. “C’mere. Come and sit down. You have to let loose sometimes, right? All work and all that. How are things in the kitchen?”

  I was saved from answering as the bathroom door opened and our friend, Harland, stepped out.

  “Hey! Long time no see.” I greeted Harland with a hug and hoped Ryker might forget his question in the meantime.

  Ryker slung an arm around each of us, spanning our shoulders, and he squeezed us closer, turning us into one massive wall as he steered us to the other side of the room. “Grab a table for us, Harland. I’ll get the beers. Hey, Noah!” He waved a hand to attract his bartender’s attention.

  Harland grabbed the first table we saw and pushed me into one of the seats. “Have a chair, Ewin,” he said. “You slumming it tonight?” But he grinned, taking the edge off his words, and his blue eyes held no hint of malice.

  They never did. Harland was as open and transparent as they came.

  “Something like that,” I agreed, as pool balls clacked across the room and people jeered as someone failed to sink another shot.

  “I came here to get away from animals in cages, but…” He glanced around the room. “Not sure I succeeded.”

  I laughed, my spirits lifting for the first time since August left the kitchen earlier. “At least you won’t be called on to neuter or declaw any of Ryker’s clientele.”

  “Even though it looks like some of them could use it.” Harland grinned again, and I smiled in response then waved at Ryker as he approached with three beers that foamed over at the top.

  He slid into the third seat then mopped at the wet table with half a napkin he found on the floor. He saw me watching and his mouth quirked. “There’s hygiene and there’s a busy night. This is the latter. I’ll get to the former in the morning.”

  Harland nodded. “Just enjoy listening to the register ringing up those sales tonight—I would.”

  “There’s a pretty big difference between my prices and yours though.” Ryker aimed a light punch at Harland’s shoulder.

  “Speaking of income…” Harland leaned forward. “How’s the restaurant coming along, Ew? Any closer to opening the doors?”

  I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about the restaurant tonight. I came here to forget it for a few hours.”

  “What?” Ryker’s eyes widened. “Ewin Storm not wanting to talk about his latest project? Something’s gotta be wrong.”

  “Yeah,” Harland chimed in. “No talk about the restaurant? What’s eating you?” He grinned. “See what I did?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Ha ha. It’s nothing.” Nothing I wanted to discuss, anyway, even with my two oldest friends.

  “If I had to guess…”

  I turned sharply in Ryker’s direction, willing him to shut the fuck up.

  But he didn’t. “I’d say Ewin’s frown has more to do with a certain new staff member than the restaurant.” He smirked and folded his arms, leaning back in his seat.

  “Shit, Ry. I kissed him,” I blurted out. “I mean, we kissed. I don’t know how it happened, but one moment we were cooking…the next…”

  “You were eating.” Ryker nodded again. “But what’s the problem?”

  I sighed, exasperated. “What do you mean, ‘what’s the problem?’ Isn’t it obvious?” I paused and lowered my voice. “It shouldn’t have happened, and I stopped it from going forward.”

  Harland’s eyes widened. “But why?”

  Huh? I stared at him. At both of them. It was simple. Why didn’t they get it? “I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. It’s just…it’s inappropriate.”

  Ryker laughed, attracting the attention of a couple dancing nearby. “Says who? From where I’m standing, you and…I’m assuming August?” He broke off briefly but continued at my terse nod. “Are both consenting adults. And if the age thing bothers you, maybe you need to get over it.” He shrugged. “That kid had to grow up fast. In fact, he hasn’t really been a kid in a long while.”

  I pressed my fingers to my forehead, massaging the spot in the middle where a headache threatened to start. “I know. I know he isn’t a kid. He’s focused and he’s determined and driven and mature.”

  “All qualities you like,” Ryker prompted.

  “All qualities I’m finding it hard to ignore,” I confirmed.

  A bar stool toppled over with a clatter, wood meeting wood, as the drunk occupant lurched off it. Ryker looked around and gestured to Noah to deal with the mess.

  “You know…” Harland looked thoughtful as he murmured low enough to keep our private conversation beneath the loud bass. “If the spark’s there and the qualities are all there, maybe you should be there as well?”

  I smothered a groan. It all sounded so easy the way he said it. Then I remembered the rest and sighed. “Plus, there’s the age difference, which matters no matter what we say about his maturity and drive and crap.”

  “I’m serious. Sometimes opportunity knocks so quietly we barely hear it, and other times it breaks the door down.”

  “I just can’t, guys. I mean, workplace romances only cause problems. I’ve taken that path before, and it’s dotted with landmines. It’s a dangerous route to happiness and I’ve never known anyone make it.” I grabbed my beer to punctuate the end of my sentence.

  Harland’s face fell, his mouth turning down at the corners. “Don’t say that, man. I mean, they can’t all turn out like that.”

  Shit. I forgot Harland carried a torch for his business partner, and as if our conversation had summoned him, the door opened and in walked Coop, Harland’s object of affection. Worse, he wasn’t alone. Some cute little something hung off his arm and pressed occasional kisses to his cheek. Harland groaned low in his throat, his eyes mournful.

  My chest constricted for my friend, and I wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  Harland shrugged me off, and his chair screeched across the floor as he forced it a couple of inches away from the table. “I’m fine, no big deal. But if you want August, you should make sure you get him before someone else swoops in and decides they want him instead. You never know how long that window of chance will stay open for you. Don’t let it slam shut because you’re too busy being a dumbass.” He glanced toward Coop again, and I did the same.

  He and his date were making out in the corner and I turned away. I didn’t look at Harland because I didn’t want to see the pain he wore so easily.

  “You should tell him.” I didn’t have to look at Harland to speak to him. “You should let him know how you feel about him.” Then I glanced up.

  The slow smile that spread across Harland’s features was heavy with sadness. “Maybe you should listen to your own words, my friend. Otherwise you might be sitting here feeling like me.”

  His words reminded me of the time I had felt like him, and I shot a glance at the table where I’d seen August wrapped in the arms of attractive young alpha guy about his age the previous day as if I would see them still sat there, still hugging and totally focused on each other. Anger and jealousy kindled in my gut, and I squeezed my fist tight, hiding it in my lap. I wanted August for myself, but I shoved the feelings away. They’d lead me in the wr
ong direction if I let them.

  “No.” I allowed myself a small smile to soften the terse word. “I think I’ve made the best decision. I need to keep things on a professional level with August.” Then I laughed, the sound hollow. “And I can’t exactly be the first one to break my ‘no fraternizing’ rule, can I?”

  “I think you might have already d…” But Ryker broke off and held his hands out as if to ward me away as he met my gaze. “All right. Jeez. A bar owner can’t even give out free advice in his own bar, anymore. That’s half of my earnings down the drain, then.”

  “Just keep these coming. That’s all I need to keep me happy.” I pointed at the half-finished beer in front of me, but I didn’t miss the pointed look that passed between Ryker and Harland.

  I hadn’t convinced them that August and I were meant to be apart, but they didn’t push me any further, and I relaxed, happy with that status quo. If I didn’t talk about it, I didn’t have to keep reliving the kiss that seemed to have branded itself on my brain. It was like my own private X-rated movie, and it ran on repeat, just for me.

  I finished my first beer, then a second, and eventually Ryker headed back to the bar to help serve as the customer noise swelled and a larger crowd gathered in front of Noah, and Harland had enough of watching Coop, so he drifted away home, and the only thing that kept me company was my memory of August. After the beers, the memory of our kiss seemed to grow even more vivid, and I could still taste him in my mouth, feel the touch of him on my tongue.

  I stared into the bottom of my glass. If ignoring August wasn’t an option, I should talk to him. But to do that, I had to know what I to say, and there weren’t any words to make things better or express what I needed them to.

  I beat my fist lightly against my forehead. It was the biggest fuck-up I’d made in a while—almost as if I’d never learned the first time, and I’d gone and done it better with the hottest, youngest guy in the room.

  I moved my pity party for one to the couch in Ryker’s office and drank until I couldn’t feel my fingers as they held the glass, my thoughts swirled in fragments in my brain, and I no longer noticed the broken springs poking me in my ass.

  9

  August

  June 8th

  I rolled over in my bed, tugging the comforter with me. Sun filtered through the blinds but, ugh. I wasn’t ready for morning. In fact, morning could go fuck itself. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, willing sleep to return. It didn’t matter that I’d already hit snooze three times. Forget sleep. I wanted deep unconsciousness with a secondary layer of coma.

  Anything that meant I didn’t have to open my eyes. I didn’t want to roll out of bed and let my feet touch the floor. I didn’t want to drag my sorry ass into work.

  I didn’t want to face Ewin.

  I buried myself deeper as memories of our kiss—the kiss I’d resolved to forget, the worst kiss of my life—threatened to return and steal away all of my breath, leaving me only with a hollow chest and the empty promise of tears.

  The void of self-pity looked increasingly welcoming—especially as I wouldn’t have to address my acute embarrassment over my attempted and failed seduction. I shouldn’t have listened to Brody. When would I learn? Listening to either of my friends had led to many things in my life—broken bones, lost wages, a near arrest on one memorable occasion, but never love. They weren’t the agony aunts they thought themselves to be. And apparently, they didn’t know much about the minds of older, sexy men.

  I sighed and rolled over, another wave of nausea gripping my stomach at the thought of walking into work. But I glanced around my bedroom, reality settling back in. What other choice did I have? If I didn’t go to work, I had nothing, and I couldn’t lose everything, my whole future, for a man. Even one who smelled of spice and honey and who could turn my insides to Jell-O simply by being in the same building. I’d never felt such an intense attraction, and it called to every one of my omega instincts.

  The journey to work took too long and passed too fast. Every painful second dragged on as my humiliation overtook all other feelings, but my morning was like a freight train rushing me to a painful and inevitable crash with Ewin Storm.

  Anger rushed through me at the last moment as I entered the kitchen. For the first time, I didn’t want to be here, and I resented Ewin for stealing my happy place as much as I regretted my own actions of the previous night. I was a mess—close to a hangover without even having benefitted from alcohol.

  I shoved my backpack away and turned to my station before freezing in place. My thoughts filtered through my head in slow motion as I noticed the stranger standing by my prep table. He smiled and waved, but I bit back a growl of frustration. Apparently, Ewin needed to punish me further, beyond abject humiliation at his rejection, because a third mentor in as many days definitely felt like punishment.

  “Hi, August?” The man approached me, his arm outstretched. “I’m Jonas. I’m going to be working with you until the restaurant opens, and from everything Ewin has said about you, I’m really excited.”

  The mention of Ewin further soured my mood, but I nodded. My feelings weren’t this guy’s fault. Instead, I took his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  And really, the more people I met and networked with in the industry, the faster I could move out from under Ewin’s influence, so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

  Then the office door opened, and Ewin emerged. Purple smudge shadows darkened his eyes and his usually neat facial scruff looked scraggly and as if he hadn’t bothered with his usual morning routine. But I turned away. I didn’t want to waste my time looking at him, especially when it only reminded me of my embarrassment and anger at a time when I needed to focus on my cooking, my work, my future.

  Jonas was great, and his presence didn’t distract me at all. He even seemed like the kind of guy Brody and Griff might enjoy hanging out with. Under his I supervision, I produced a technically perfect dish, which was great, but I usually cooked with my soul. From the first day I’d ever heard Ewin’s motto— have fun, take care, and put your heart into it—I’d lived it.

  My heart was missing from this dish.

  Throughout the whole day, I had half of my attention on the clock, willing the second hand to move faster, urging the end of the day to arrive quicker, and the moment I’d cleared my workstation after the tastings, I launched my backpack across my shoulder and headed for the door. Actually, I ran. I ran for that door, desperate for the fresh air and the space from Ewin’s overwhelming presence because even though he hadn’t worked with me, I’d felt him almost like an oppression at every moment. And I just needed to breathe.

  Breathing air untainted by honey and spice would be a small win, but I’d take it.

  As I reached for the door handle, had almost made my first step outside, I heard him.

  “August.” His quiet voice carried across the kitchen, and I hesitated.

  I had two choices. I could run, shamefaced, like the spurned lover of last night, and pretend I hadn’t heard him if he challenged me tomorrow. Or I could turn around and face my boss like a professional. For a moment, I wavered. Running held far more appeal. Running was the easy option.

  Even Dawson had run in the end. But I was nothing like my brother, and I’d prove it—if only to myself.

  I turned to face Ewin. He was just my boss, and I composed my face to be as neutral as possible. He wasn’t a mind reader. He wouldn’t know the thoughts and feelings zinging through my mind if I didn’t give them away. I tensed every muscle and locked my jaw, focusing my attention on the things I could control.

  He studied me, quiet, as if he hadn’t really wanted anything at all. When I gave him no response, his shoulders slumped, and his mouth turned down at the corners. Someone else might not have noticed, but my senses had become so attuned to Ewin’s moods in the short time I’d known him, that even without really realizing, I could read him. A shiver of pleasure ran up my spine at how well I’d learned to mask my feelings.


  I’d been let down before. I wouldn’t allow this man I’d only just met make me feel this way. I wouldn’t extend that permission to him.

  So, I waited. And the clock ticked on the wall and the fan in the refrigerator provided a quiet background hum.

  Finally, Ewin swallowed and broke eye contact, looking down before he took a deep breath and met my gaze again. “I’m really sorry about last night, August.”

  I glanced over his shoulder at a smudge on one of the stainless steel counters, searching for disinterested, bored, but his next words snapped my attention back to him.

  “I don’t want my attraction to you to ruin our work relationship. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to behave that way.”

  I shook my head, disbelieving his sentiment. His attraction to me?

  “I mean it. I’ve seen you work. Your attention to detail and your drive—all phenomenal. You can go far in this industry, August, really far.” He reached out as if he might take my hand but seemed to think better of it and jerked back, shoving both hands behind him. His neck colored, the blush rising from his collar, and I watched it, wanting to trail my tongue up the skin there.

  Exasperation and frustration crashed with irritation in my head, and I almost reached out to shake him. Last time I checked, I was a fully functional adult, so who gave Ewin Storm the right to make decisions about my working relationships and what was good for me and my future?

  He spoke again, apparently taking my silence for lack of understanding rather than annoyance at his attitude. “I guess what I’m saying is, I can’t ruin this for you. If people look at us, at our relationship, I don’t want anyone to say you got an unfair advantage. It wouldn’t be true, but gossip and scandal never care about the truth.”

  Stupid man. I nodded as if in agreement, and he began to turn away, as if he planned to slip out of the back door and out of my life all in one smooth move.

  “Wait.” I stopped him with a hand on his arm, bringing him back around to face me, and his body heat seeped through the fabric of his jacket, scorching my skin. But I kept my hand there. I liked it. “You’ve just had your say. Now I get to say a few things.” My voice was louder than usual, and his eyes widened, but he relaxed, and didn’t move away.