Page 4 of Freedom's Kiss
“Not when I see potential wasted. Adam, you could be helping so many people. Instead you’re here flipping burgers.”
“Flipping burgers never hurt anyone. Don’t be a snob and smirch honest work.”
For the first time, Hudson let go of his controlled demeanor, a sigh expanding his chest. “Look, I know the Forsythe case—”
Adam slashed the air in front of him. “Enough, Burke. You have my answer. Nothing is going to change that, and I don’t want you bringing upthatcase again. Ever. You got it?” He placed his palms on the workstation, elbows locked, breath shallow. He squinched his eyes and rolled his head from side to side to loosen the muscles that had kinked in his neck. Opening his eyes, he looked down at Hudson. “If you’re the friend you claim to be, then wish me luck in the new direction my life has taken.” He picked up a prepared plate and passed it through the window. “Sink your teeth into the juiciest burger you’ve ever tasted south of the Mason-Dixon Line.”
Hudson took the paper boat and eyed the stacked sandwich with a resigned smile. “Fill my mouth with food to get me to shut up?”
Adam felt his shoulders relax. “You know it.”
“Good luck, Adam.”
“You too.” Adam shook his head as Hudson retreated, stuffing a huge bite into his mouth.
“Ready, Chef?”
His eyes tracked to the Hurricane, who stood directly in front of his window. “What’ve we got?”
We. He glanced at his watch. In exactly forty minutes, Southern Charm had turned from ahimto awe. Adam didn’t know what to do with that little turn of events, so he tucked it away to study later. Even if it sounded strange, itfeltright. They worked together like it’d always been this way. Him and…a woman whose name he didn’t even know. He glanced at Hudson’s retreating back. Had they ever worked so in sync? The answer to that was a resounding no. Which was why they hardly ever worked a case together. Hudson had his methods, and Adam…well, what was the point of dwelling on that now?
The Hurricane recited orders as she pulled tickets off her pad. “Twelve mac and cheeses, nine salads, six orders of corn cakes, and fifteen burgers.”
Adam’s brows lowered as he held out his hand. “Give me those.” He leafed through the order tickets, adrenaline spiking through his limbs as he shoved them in a line on the clip above the grill. “Is this all of them?”
Her eyes danced with excitement. She felt it too. That anticipation, the feeling of being alive and knowing something big was right in front of you. The nerves that hit at the slow crawl of an incline at a roller-coaster ride. The quick moments when you asked yourself what in the world you were doing, why’d you get yourself into this situation, and was there any way to get yourself out? Then the peak. A short span of time to look around and tell your body to hold on for the ride of its life.
“For now,” she said.
Adam plunged glove-covered hands into the seasoned raw ground sirloin, forming balls that he pressed into patties. With the meat cooking on the grill, he slicked out of the gloves and exchanged them for fresh ones. His gaze snagged on the blue hat outside the window. “What, now you wait for an invitation? Get in here, Hurricane.”
She jumped, a grin stretching across her face. “Yes, Chef.”
Adam rolled his eyes, but his grin matched hers. He pulled off a glove and held out his hand as she stepped into the truck’s kitchen. “My name is Adam Carrington, and I’m not a chef.” Chefs had James Beard awards and worked in fancy Michelin-starred kitchens, directing their own staff. It was just him and his truck and his self-taught recipes brought on by a love of food.
She placed her hand in his and gave it a firm shake. “Olivia Arroyo.”
He pulled his glove back on and picked up a spatula. “Finally, the answer to myonequestion. I’m glad we have time for it now.” He pulled down tickets for diners who had ordered only salads and handed them to Olivia. “Can you handle expediting?”
Her smile widened, as if he’d handed her the deed to a mansion instead of a few pieces of paper splattered with grease. “Absolutely.”
They moved as one—a harmony he didn’t think possible with a stranger—him cooking elements on the flattop and deep fryer, then passing them off to her to finish and plate. When he stretched left to lift the basket from the fryer, she leaned right, giving him room. How she’d anticipated his movements, he didn’t know, because she always remained laser focused, her eyes down and her hands busy. With Hudson, Adam would zig left expecting his partner to follow, only to find the man zagging right. Sometimes it worked for their benefit, but other times not. Partners, but on completely different paths. But with Olivia… They were a well-oiled machine. Cogs that turned in perfect time. And speaking of time, they were getting tickets out of the window faster than he’d ever seen.
Olivia bumped the brim of her hat off her forehead and wiped her brow with the back of her wrist before resettling the cap. “That’s it for real this time, Adam.” She scanned the work space, surprisingly clean for the speed in which they’d put out food. Clean and relatively empty. “You’ve sold out of everything.”
For the first time in he didn’t know how long, Adam bent to look out the window. Two people stood in line. He’d only have to tell two people they were closed for the night. Relief washed through him. Relief and a sense of victory that made him laugh out loud. Olivia answered with a wide smile of her own, and he couldn’t help himself as the light feeling turned to gratitude. He’d never have made it if not for the kindness and audacity—and bossiness—of this stranger. Before he knew what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her in a hug to his chest.
