What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,25
your good nature, but it’s good to know who to call in case of trouble. Thank you.”
“Sure.” She started shutting down the grill. “You know, I bet Italian food would be popular here, or even an Italian theme night.”
“Italian? God, I love lasagna.” He scratched his cheek. “I’m all for changing things up. You should talk to the boss about it.”
Wait, what? “Ah…no. It was just a thought.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “You know, it took me a day or two to realize you weren’t the boss.”
“God forbid.” He guffawed. “I just help out with hiring until Bull gets off his ass and finds us a manager.”
“Ah, but you rule the kitchen. I think chefs are probably far above bosses.”
“I so agree.” Wylie’s grin was wicked.
Smiling, Frankie turned to get cleaning supplies and ran right into Bull. Her breasts, then her head bounced off his very solid body. “Oomph!”
She tottered back.
“Steady now.” His giant hands curled around her upper arms to hold her up. “Are you all right?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest.
He smelled of sandalwood and cedar, like dark carnal nights and heated kisses.
Oh, honestly.
How could she think of having sex with a man she didn’t even like?
“Um, I’m fine, thank you.” She pulled at his grip, and he released her instantly.
Even as she tried to rub away the tingles from his touch, he spoke to Wylie over her head. “We should hire a manager. I agree. But we need to talk about the hierarchy of chef above boss.” His low chuckle indicated he wasn’t threatened in the least by her comment.
The man had far too much self-confidence.
Look how he took up all the free space in the kitchen. The way his shirt stretched over the chiseled muscles of his chest was simply mesmerizing. She took another step back.
He gazed down at her. “I appreciate your helping out here in the kitchen. You have a choice now—you can call it a night or return to serving.”
“I’d be happy to finish my shift in the bar.” Maybe the PZs would be in.
“Good enough. Easton hoped he wouldn’t have to break his date.” Bull gave her a faint smile, not his usual big grin.
Come to think of it, after the first night, those were the only kind of smiles she received from him. Aside from the one compliment, he’d kept his distance. Had he picked up on her animosity and honored her wish to avoid him?
The realization was disturbing.
As Bull headed back to the bar, the chef frowned. “Problem between you two?”
She wouldn’t speak of Bull’s callous behavior toward his lover in the parking lot. Wylie obviously liked his boss.
“No. I’ve hardly spoken to him.” She shrugged. “I just prefer to steer clear of”—womanizers, asshole players—“hot guys.”
The chef barked a laugh. “He sure is that.” The frown returned. “But the big bull is more respectful toward women than…than hell, any of us.”
“Of course,” she said politely. To be fair, what she’d taken for flirting with female customers turned out to be Bull’s manner with everybody, no matter the gender, age, or appearance. He was simply extremely outgoing.
Frankie pulled off her apron and the chef beret they’d provided for her hair. Her scalp seemed to cheer at being released from the sweltering, heavy confinement. She picked up her server vest. “I’m going to clean up in the ladies’ room and get over to the bar.
And boss or not, she’d continue to avoid “the bull”. Because what she’d told Wylie was the absolute truth—she totally avoided man candy.
Chocolate was far better for a girl.
Chapter Seven
If the enemy is within range, so are you. ~ Murphy’s Laws of Combat
This should be fun. Not.
On her knees in the dense undergrowth, Frankie studied her brand-new drone, the one she’d named Iron Boy. The drone wasn’t the cheapest model but wasn’t too expensive either—because she knew she’d probably fly it into a tree.
It was all hooked up to the controller and her phone, calibrated, and ready to go. The streamlined white body, the rotors, the high-tech gizmo on the front made her feel as if she was in a science fiction movie.
Wouldn’t that be cool? Well, as long as she could be a heroine like the ever-so-competent Ripley from Aliens.
I don’t feel like Ripley.
That wasn’t who she was. She was no courageous kick-ass woman.
She was a city girl. She liked being a city girl. Still, no matter what it took, she’d get Kit and Aric out of that PZ compound. Because helping her