Page 31 of The Ruthless Note

He nods to the counter. “I’ll be right up there.”

Arms tense, I make a point of not looking Dutch’s way when I storm past his table. He and his brothers stop talking when they see me.

I overhear Finn say, “Sothisis why you were suddenly in the mood for burgers.”

That pisses me off even more.

I grit my teeth, maneuver behind the counter and shove the swinging door aside.

The kitchen is filled with smoke and the scent of frying meat. The sound of metal clanking against steel is a consistent and rhythmic percussion.

Frankie, the manager, is at the stove flipping burgers. He’s short and stumpy with a gleaming bald head and a full, luscious beard that he keeps in a hairnet.

He points his small, squinty eyes at me. “Cooper.”

“Frankie.” I nod in respect.

He might not be the friendliest guy in the world, but Frankie runs a tight ship. He’s fair with the tips and consistently pays on time. Which is a lot better than some of my previous jobs.

“You’re late again,” he says, checking his watch.

“I told you I’d be coming in a little later every evening. I’ve got school stuff.”

“I don’t want to hear about your school stuff. When things pick up, I need you here. You understand?”

“Alright,” I snap begrudgingly.

“What’s with the attitude?”

I ignore his mean eye. “I heard you, Frankie. I’ll be here on time from now on.”

Maybe I can work something out with Redwood to allow me to do my work study earlier. It’s getting tough to finish cleaning my assigned classrooms, catch a bus and make it to the diner in time.

Frankie bobs his head toward the front. “I’m changing your section. You’re at table four today.”

My eyes widen and my heart starts speeding fast. “But I'm on tables one to three. Why am I doing four all of a sudden?”

“A special request. The customers asked for you by name.” Frankie smiles so hard his gold tooth flashes at me. “And we want our customers to be happy, don't we?”

My body goes rigid. The last thing I want to do is walk over there and serve Dutch. That annoying egotistical bastard has been trying my patience all day. But I don't have another choice. The diner is a good gig. I don’t want to lose my job.

Come on, Cadey. Wear your big girl pants.

I tighten my apron around my waist and storm over to Dutch's table. His eyes are steady on me and brimming with the confidence of a hawk who has his prey right where he wants him.

Every step feels like a death sentence. It doesn’t help that all the thoughts I’d been fighting off when I was with Hunter surge to prominence.

I take note of Dutch’s change of clothes, the blond hair hanging over his forehead, and his gleaming amber eyes. The grey T-shirt beneath his leather jacket is fitted to his muscled chest.

He looks utterly delectable and I hate him for it.

I step closer. Dutch is sitting on the outside of the booth. Stopping at the table puts me only a foot away from him. My body tightens from the mere proximity. It gets worse when I catch a whiff of his clean fragrance.

Mentally coaching myself through my emotions so I don’t look as rattled as I feel, I point my gaze on the lace curtains covering the window.

“Torturing me at school isn't enough for you?”

Dutch only has to tilt his head an inch in order to meet my eyes. His stupid height makes him look tall even when he’s sitting down.

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