Page 4 of Mountain Man Santa

My gaze immediately goes to Stacey. Her face is bright red, her brows knitted together.

“Seventy months in Eastern,” I say quietly.

“For?” Mark questions, his eyes narrowing.

“Manslaughter in the second degree.”

“And how long ago was this?” the quiet one, Collin, pipes up.

“Four years ago. Haven’t had a problem with the law since. Not even a parking ticket.” I never speak freely about my past because it has nothing to do with my present. But I’d do anything for a shot with Stacey…even as I wonder if it’s already lost forever.

“Who’d you kill?” Will asks.

Stacey’s face hardens, and her gaze narrows. I can feel her shooting daggers at me. I meant to tell her all of this eventually. But I was waiting for the right time and the right place. Talk about a royal fuck up on my part.

“An opponent in the ring. I used to be an MMA fighter, and I also fought illegally for my grandfather and father.”

Collin cocks his head to the side. “Lees out of NYC into illegal fighting? That’s a new one for me.”

“More like the Luczaks outta Brooklyn.”

“Polish,” Mark says.

I nod.

“Mafia?”

“My family, yes. But not me. I’ve spent my whole life getting away from that.”

Will scratches his head, grimacing, and Collin whistles long and low, crossing his arms.

Mark asks, “So, that’s why a chef of your caliber ended up in podunk little Hollister?”

I shrug, not sure where he’s going with this. “Not really. I always dreamed of owning a restaurant in a small town with beautiful mountain views and a simpler way of life.”

Mark says, “I thought I recognized you from somewhere. Your beard threw me off a bit, though.”

Begrudgingly, I nod. “Jeremiasz Luczak. I prefer Jerry Lee because you try getting people in a town like Hollister to pronounce that kinda name right, let alone spell it.”

“How’d you come by Jerry Lee?”

“My roommate in prison. He was a big rockabilly guy. It was either that or Elvis.”

Mark shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re no Elvis.”

“No, sir.” I side-eye Stacey, madder than hell. I could’ve used a warning before this conversation. By the paleness of her face, I imagine she’s thinking the same thing.

“Well, look, guys, as nice as it’s been meeting you all, I have a kitchen to get back to.” I lean forward, offering my hand again. Each man pulls out a card and hands it to me.

“Seeing how much our sister talks about you, we’d like to speak with you more, Jerry,” Mark says.

I nod before turning around and striding back into the kitchen. Well, there goes the best thing that never happened to me…Dammit!

I shake with indignation by the time I reach my office, sitting down and staring at the wall longer and harder than I should. Another server gone, only this one’s departure will hurt a whole helluva lot worse than all the rest.

Throughout the rest of her shift, Stacey works hard to avoid me. I can feel the confusion and anger radiating off her each time she passes me, refusing to make eye contact or flirt. Fortunately, lunch hour bustles, so I don’t have too much time to ruminate on how fucking miserable her lack of attention makes me.

Has she really made me this needy? All I know is when it’s time for her to leave, I command, “Don’t move a muscle. I have your to-go box.”

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