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Natalie rolls her eyes. “Here. Tomorrow morning. Both of you.” She strides off into the dining room, and I glance over at Evan.
“Care to watch us try on lingerie?” I say with a smirk. Evan’s gaze travels down my body, and I know he’s picturing it.
“Yes,” he says. “But I have to open. You girls have fun.” He steps back, straightens his shirt, and follows Natalie into the crowd.
“I’m so excited,” Mia says, pulling out her phone. “I’m checking to see what’s new in stock at Gwenevere’s.” She looks up suddenly and places her hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you. You were just triple-sat.”
I sigh. “I know.”
She shoves her phone back into her apron. “I’ll grab drinks on 41 for you.”
“Thanks,” I call after her as she jogs away. I turn toward the server station, and my eyes lock with Zaden’s as he tosses a glass rack onto the shelf above the drink machines. He glances between Evan and me, accusatorily, and maybe a little angry. Then he turns and walks back into the kitchen.
I know I’m here to make waves, but each one keeps knocking me down and tumbling me through the wash. I have to stay in my lane, and only make the relationships I need. The rest of them are complicating my mission. And my head.
For better or worse, it seems the closer I get to Evan, the farther I get from Zaden.
Chapter 14
Zaden
Igrab the new line of tickets from the printer and pull them apart, cramming them into the ticket holder. Removing the butter from the cooler at my side, I slam the stainless steel door a little too hard and run a hand through my hair. I have no right to be possessive of her, but it still feels like a slap.
Grabbing the tongs, I start flipping stakes and slathering on another puddle of butter.
“Yo,” Katrina calls from beside me. “What’s with the hostility?” I glance over as she shuffles pans, adds ingredients, and navigates around the flame.
I shake my head. “Nothing.” I throw on a few chicken breasts, take another look at the new tickets, and add several skewers of shrimp.
“Nothing never means nothing,” she says.
“This time, it fucking does,” I reply sharply.
“Like I said,” she drones on, turning to pour one of her Alfredo sauces onto a waiting plate.
I put my tongs down, glancing over my shoulder as I hear Evan shouting orders at the servers from the window.
“What do women see in that asshole?”
Katrina looks up, then shrugs. “Could be the Tesla, the beach condo, his substantial real estate portfolio, the CV with that long list of owner/GM positions, free access to his grandfather’s yacht, money, power, success. Take your pick, really. You know, that signature on my check every week is pretty sexy.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to the grill, checking the temps on several steaks before moving them over to the plates waiting on the line.
“Steaks are up on 15,” I shout down toward Ryan. “Throw some fries on that ribeye, please.”
I try to block it all out, concentrating on the music blaring from the speaker and the tickets hanging. It doesn’t take long to fall into the familiar groove, slinging plates into the window so fast I have to slow down so I don’t tank the rest of the line. But as I speed up, so do they.
Evan’s trying to expo, but he’s getting weeded quick, and sweat stains start to spread across his pretty button-up shirt. I start feeling more satisfied with myself, but then I see her.
Ivy walks up to Evan and places her hand on his arm. She moves him out of the way, and plates up several trays of food as servers run it out. She gets the window caught back up with a confident quickness, like she’s worked here for years. I may have been just as satisfied at her show of superiority had she not touched him. Or smiled at him. Or talked to him in hushed tones that I couldn’t hear.
Evan thanks her and wanders back into the dining room. Once she clears the window, she steps back into the server station to lean against the wall, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck, looking exhausted. I don’t think she ever took that break, and she’s been running non-stop all day.
Damn it. Why am I feeling sorry for her?
“Oh. Okay,” Katrina says from beside me, and I glance over to see her staring at Ivy. “I get it.” She turns around to tend her pans.
“What?”
