Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(11)

That guilty feeling from yesterday returned.

“Is that all you’re having for dinner?” I asked.

She lifted a shoulder. “I’m sure I’ve got some ramen somewhere in my kitchen.”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not,” I told her, ducking under the bar.

Without waiting for her to respond, I headed into the kitchen—the one part of the place that was actually finished. I rummaged through the cabinets. Though all the gear was in place, we hadn’t really stocked it yet. But, I had the right ingredients for a grilled cheese sandwich—mainly because I spent most of my own dinners here and grilled cheese was about the extent of my culinary abilities.

I whipped up two of my signature sandwiches, plated them, and poured myself a pint of beer. When I returned to the bar, I found Alex focused once again on her work. I couldn’t help peering over her shoulder, trying to figure out more about her. She intrigued me. Probably because she had told me so little about herself.

“So.” I slid a plate over to her. “You’re a lawyer.”

I knew enough about law and lawyers to recognize the kind of work she was doing. Also, the long hours, working on the weekend, and the suit she had been wearing the first night I saw her all pointed in the same direction.

She lifted her head. “Did you guess that?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “Or did you cheat?”

“I totally cheated,” I confirmed before taking a bite of my sandwich and gesturing for her to do the same. “Though I would have figured it out eventually.”

“Sure you would have,” Alex responded, pushing aside her paperwork to take the grilled cheese.

Even though I wasn’t a culinary genius, I still watched as she took a bite. It was the rare person that didn’t appreciate the beauty of melted cheese and crispy buttery bread.

Alex’s eyes fluttered closed as she chewed, her face relaxing for a moment as she savored the food. It was electric, watching her take pleasure in something.

Fuck. She was hot.

She ate with vigor, barely stopping to take a sip of beer in between bites. When she was finished, there was a little bit of cheese stuck on her bottom lip. I wanted nothing more than to kiss it off of her, but instead, I held out a napkin and gestured towards her mouth.

She wiped it off, looking a little sheepish.

“Guess I was hungry,” she said, looking down at her empty plate.

I had only gotten in a few bites of half of my own sandwich, so I immediately slid the other half towards her.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she argued, but I could see that she was starving.

“I’m not really hungry,” I lied. I was hungry, but it wasn’t for grilled cheese.

She eagerly took the other half of the sandwich, taking a little more time with this one.

“This is really good,” she told me. “Are you the chef here?”

I laughed. “You’ve just witnessed the extent of my culinary skills,” I said.

“Well, I thoroughly approve.” Alex took another bite. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I couldn’t stop looking at her.

She had been gorgeous that first night we met—her hair tied up in some fancy bun, her suit fitting perfectly to her slender curves—but I found that I preferred this Alex. The one with her hair down, a cozy sweater, and a pair of snug jeans that fit her curves just right.

“So if you’re not the chef, what do you do here?” Alex wanted to know, finishing up her grilled cheese and taking a long drink of Chase’s IPA.

“I’m the manager,” I told her. “My nights probably look a lot like yours.” I gestured towards the stacks of work around her. “Lots of paperwork.”

“I bet your paperwork is far more interesting than mine,” Alex said wryly.

“Depends,” I teased. “Just how interesting do you consider time cards and beer orders?”

“Extremely interesting,” Alex teased, a smile curving her lush lips.

And what a smile it was. It was hard to look at it and not want to coax a full-blown grin out of her. But, as friendly as she was being, I was also getting a very clear “keep away” vibe.

I understood. We were strangers, and she was clearly someone who had a very demanding job—one that she was obviously dedicated to. No doubt the noise coming from our bar for the past few days had contributed to her exhaustion, and though I would have liked nothing more than to pull her into my arms and kiss her, it looked like she needed a good night’s rest far more than she needed a good night’s kiss.

“I should go,” she said, confirming my suspicions.

I nodded, standing when she did.

“You’re always welcome to come work here,” I told her.

She glanced around. “I’m pretty sure you guys are a little out of my price range.”

I made a mental note of that—I was interested in the kind of first impressions we were giving out. We wanted to be upscale, but not exclusive. Maybe we needed to make the place look a little more approachable.

“First beer is always on me,” I told her, the offer out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

Alex looked surprised. “Thank you,” she said.

“And thanks again,” she said. “For the grilled cheese.”

“Anytime,” I told her.