Page 23 of Hard Knock Hero

“Fine,” I said begrudgingly. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem at all.” He hitched his bag onto his shoulder and marched out of the alley. My eyes followed him for a few seconds before my feet moved.

I did need his help. But I was a fool if I’d imagined I could control this man. Or even predict what he might do next. Aiden Shelborne was more than I had ever bargained for.

What had I gotten myself into?

CHAPTERSEVEN

Aiden

The charity dinner went smoothly,all things considered. Until what happened after.

Jessi and I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. If she was chopping, I was sautéing. If she was minding the pasta as it boiled, I was stirring extra seasonings into the tomato sauce. We were a relay team, working instead of talking. Just how I liked things when I ran a kitchen. I’d brought my knife roll with me on the trip, and it gave me some comfort and satisfaction to have my own knives in my hands. No offense to Jessi’s, of course. But a chef liked to use his own tools.

When I reached a break in my preparations, I mentioned that I could use a shower. It had been way too long since my last one, all the way back when I’d left the house I shared with my roommates in West Oaks. But Jessi hesitated. Then there was more awkwardness when she realized I would need to usehershower.

Her cheeks went rosy as she minced onion into minuscule bits. “Go ahead. Fresh towels are in the closet.”

“All right. Thanks.”

I tried to be quick about it. Stripping down and starting the water, barely pausing to notice the details of her upstairs studio apartment. The vase of fresh flowers, which must’ve come from a greenhouse, a touch of beauty that she’d probably bought just for herself. The abstract paintings on the walls that I suspected she had made. All the feminine touches that transformed the simple space into a home. It wasn’t a cabin in the woods with a fireplace. But it was damn cozy in its own way. Infused with a floral, powdery scent.

I came downstairs in my jeans with my T-shirt over my shoulder, water droplets trailing over my bare shoulders. “Have you checked on the chicken in the oven?”

Jessi glanced over. Then she started coughing.

“You okay?”

“It’s nothing.”

I poured her a glass from the tap, but she waved it away and disappeared into the diner bathroom. She didn’t emerge until I’d put my shirt back on, which I doubted was a coincidence. I hadn’t been trying to upset her or get any particular reaction out of her. My body temperature ran hot even in winter, that was all. Especially when I was cooking. But from then on, I tried to give her some extra space. Clearly she wasn’t comfortable having me around if I wasn’t fully dressed.

I spent the rest of my cooking time contemplating asshole ex-boyfriends and the way they made us decent guys look bad.

Part of me hoped that Jeremy Rigsby would fall off the edge of the earth before he made it back to Hartley. But the other part? That part of me couldn’t wait for Jeremy to show his face in Jessi’s vicinity. Just so I could even the score.

What? It was the kind of thing a brother should do.

Before we knew it, dinner guests were arriving, drawn by the promise of a warm Hartley welcome. Then it was a whirlwind of serving, eating, and more cooking, as every event tends to be. A bunch of Jessi’s friends, like Scarlett and Marco, showed up to help and socialize. Stranded tourists shared stories about where they were going and where they were from. The little diner was hopping, the way it probably used to be when the town of Hartley had been on Jessi’s side.

And she wasbaskingin it. Smiling and joking and making her guests feel comfortable. Making them laugh. Jessi looked good out there. Happy. She was the kind of woman who got joy out of feeding people and making them feel at home. Feeding people was important to me too, given my chosen profession. But I liked keeping my mouth shut and letting my food say everything for me.

Jessi, though. She wore her heart right there on the outside of her apron. In her gestures, words, and her smiles. And in the despair I’d seen in her expression last night, too.

A few people asked about her brother, but I just saluted a greeting from my spot in the open kitchen. I grabbed a plate of food to eat when I got a chance, making sure that Jessi did the same. As for Jeremy’s trouble-making cousins, none showed to the dinner. Sawyer was the only Rigsby there, shaking hands and giving out boxes of Hart-Made candy like he was running for mayor or something.

Around nine o’clock, Jessi dropped into a booth, marveling at the stuffed tip jar in front of her. “I have no idea how we pulled that off.”

I was in the kitchen, looking at her through the cut-out archway, as I had all evening. “We did it together.” I toweled off a plate and set it in the clean stack on the counter.

She dumped the tip jar upside down. Bills scattered everywhere. “Pretty sure it was all you. I believe your story about being a chef for a catering company now.”

“You thought I was lying?”

“I don’t know what I’ve been thinking aboutanythingfor the past twenty-four hours.” Tendrils of dark hair fell over her face as she sighed. If I’d been sitting across from her, I might’ve tucked them behind her ear. That woman deserved a hell of a lot more than she’d gotten out of life.

Hopefully, she’d find the right person to give it to her.

---