Page 15 of Heart Stopping
A couple of them came in here to do that too, but I always made sure they left with their stomachs full.
Erin was one of them, although she wasn't a student at the time. She was homeless after running away from her foster family. I'd taken her under my wing, found her somewhere to live and gave her a job. She repaid me by being like a little sister and sticking her nose into my business. The girl got away with far too much and we both knew it. We also both knew I'd continue to let her get away with it.
One day, when she was a Michelin star chef, she'd still get away with…well, not murder. Overstepping the line.
Pretending there was no line.
Erasing the line entirely.
Like I said before, I'm a bleeding heart. If I could save everyone like her, I'd do it.
Instead, I did what I could, one person at a time. While at the same time remembering to be grateful I'd never had to sleep on a park bench. Or know the pinch of an empty stomach. Not starving was one of the benefits of going to culinary school. We had to taste everything we made and there was always plenty to take home at the end of the day. For a couple of years, I lived on those leftovers, even the failures.
Especially the failures.
"What did you study?" I asked finally.
He pushed his glasses back up his nose and brushed his hair off his forehead. "You'll think I'm a total geek."
"I thought that when you sat there reading a book and eating lunch," I told him, teasing gently. "For the record, I'm not geek-phobic."
Especially when they were as adorable as he was. When I thought about it, he couldn't be more different from Boner, except that aura of darkness that lingered over both of them, and myself. Boner was blonde, athletic and a smartass, Cass didn't seem to be any of those things. So far.
Cass looked relieved at that. "I studied IT. I know, that comes as a complete shock, right?" He cocked his head and grimaced, his plush lips twisting to the side and pressing together.
"I would have guessed sports science, or business," I said flatly. He didn't look like the kind of guy who'd study either of those things and we both knew it.
"Thank you for not saying musical theatre," he said, making a face.
"You don't like musical theatre?" I asked.
"I love musical theatre," he said. "But that was what I did in my spare time, not as my major." His eyes widened. "Crap, did I say that out loud?"
"Yes, you did," I confirmed. "As it happens, I've seenWickedfive or six times, andSouth Pacificat least as many." I brushed hair off the side of my face and adjusted the bowl in my hand.
"The classics," he said wistfully. He half-closed his eyes and hummed a couple of bars ofI'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair.
"You can sing," I said appreciatively.
His face reddened. "It helps when you're in productions like that."
I responded with a short laugh. "I suppose it would. I've been told my singing sounds like a cat being tortured, so I'll spare you from the pain."
Now I thought about it, that could be useful the next time I had a guest like Gary in my apartment. Singing, on top of dripping water, would have them pleading for mercy and offering up names much faster. I should have thought of that sooner.
On the other hand, I had some dignity left.
Sort of.
"I should—" I started to excuse myself, when Gina hurried past, taking the bowl out of my hand and taking it to the kitchen. Taking my excuse with her. The woman was such a brat.
"Have dinner with me?" Cass asked, the words tumbling out in a hurry, like a waterfall. Luckily, without the water or spray of any kind. "I mean, you get a night off, right?"
"The restaurant is closed on Monday and Tuesday," I said slowly. I usually used those days to rest and research my next guest or target.
"Of course she'll go out with you," Erin called from the other side of the seating area. "Go on, Harlow. You two are adorable together."
I looked over and lowered my eyebrows at her. I'd never make meatballs out of her, but she was toeing the line again. I shouldn't let her get involved in my personal life and I'd do the same in return.
