Page 3 of UnScripted

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. It’s bright as hell outside, but in here, it’s dark as night. It feels like this is a place where time gets lost.

“Hello?”

My sneakers cut across the floor to the bar. It's gorgeous, all dark gleaming wood and ruby leather seats. My eyes roam over the pictures hanging on the wall. One’s a black and white photo of an older man beaming proudly outside a bar that looks like this one. Then there’s one of a man with a little girl on his lap as he sits on his motorcycle outside the same bar. But the last picture, makes me want for something I’ve never had. There’s a stunning brunette who is staring straight into the camera with a look that's almost a taunt… but the man… he’s staring at her like she’s the only woman in the world. His huge tatted arms circle her waist, his mouth by her ear and then I notice they seem to be standing right here. In the same spot, I’m in.

“You showed.”

Shrieking, I turn around, with a hand over my rapidly beating heart. My first thought is: He’s huge. My second thought is: He’s that asshole. My third thought is: Damn, he’s fine. My fourth thought is: I’m gonna march him to the cemetery and make him apologize.

Be cool Dev, be cool. My fingernails dig into my palms. I’m trying to hold back my anger—bite my tongue, and rein in my swirling emotions. I can’t make an enemy of this man when he could be the key to solving so many of the answers of my past.

“Y-yes.”

He smirks, slowly coming forward and my breath catches before I burst out in a fit of laughter. He’s a beast; a giant with ink covering both arms but in that white apron he’s wearing over a pair of worn jeans—he looks like any woman’s wet dream who’s over forty.

“What?” He barks.

“It’s just. It’s just that… I’m sorry,” I gasp out swiping tears of laughter. “You look hot. I mean, for an old guy and all… in that apron,” I gesture with one hand, trying to charm him with the truth.

His lips don’t twitch. He stares me down with eyes that seem to glow in the dark. Fascinated, I slowly walk forward. I’ve never seen eyes that color before. They’re light blue like arctic ice caps, bobbing in a frigid sea. And his hair… it’s light brown streaked with gray. His beard looks soft, the kind you could run a hand over before you cuddle in, listening to the sound of your man’s steady heart.

What the fuck?

I shake my head and clear my throat. “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”

“Follow me,” he grunts.

He leads me down a hall towards the kitchen where the smells wafting towards us makes my tummy growl. I know he heard, but he doesn’t crack a joke at my expense.

My eyes lower to his ass, and I bite my lip. He’s built. His ass is firm and meaty like he used to power lift or something. I kind of feel like a freak for even looking at a man who’s got to be twice my age at least—but I’m fascinated. I’m fascinated that he’s in such good shape and intrigued that he knows who Dee was. I need to make sure I get this job. It might be the key to solving everything.

He pushes open the swinging doors, and my knees buckle. My nose lifts appreciating the aroma flirting with it.

“Mmmm,” I inhale closing my eyes.

“Here.”

My eyes pop open wide. He’s standing right in front of me holding a spoon to my mouth. My lips part, our eyes lock as he presses the spoon gently in. I moan again, it’s a bomb of rich spices, warm and hearty and has just enough zing to make your eyes water.

He grunts again, shifting his hips.

This is the most unconventional job interview I’ve ever had.

“It’s good, right?”

“I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“It’s my specialFra Diavolosauce.”

“Devil monk.”

“Come again?”

“Fra Diavolo, it means “devil monk” in Italian.”

This time I’m stunned as he throws his head back and laughs and then leans in close. “Christ, that’s me alright. The devil monk. Haven’t gotten laid in so long,” he mutters mostly to himself as he rinses the spoon in the sink.

My eyebrows rise at his confession before I can stop myself I blurt out, “I find that hard to believe.”

---