Destined Love

Destined Love - Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Three:

On Tuesday morning, Cole shoots me sea-blue eyes loaded with impatience across the kitchen counter. I stare back at him blankly as I purposefully nip at my cold toast, fully aware of the invisible heat pooling off his body like stormy waves. The dark rims of his eyes expand as his impatience turns into annoyance.

"My patience is thinning, Kade." He hisses out with a clenched jaw. "Work starts in less than ten minutes."

"Oh, I know," I respond wryly. "But I can't very well rush the most important meal of the day, now can I?"

The bone below his left eye gives a double twitch. "I am this close to leaving here without you."

I lift a single shoulder. "That's fine by me, hombre. I have no problem with walkin'. Or being late, for that matter."

"Really?" He questions. "You're willing to risk it? Because I guarantee Billy is just waiting for the opportunity to fire your ass."

"I doubt it." Standing up, I slip my empty plate into the sink once catching sight of Cole's pale knuckles. "I am willin' to risk it, because he's not willin' to risk losing a worker."

"If you give him a reason, he will fire you, Kade. He might need workers, but he'd rather lose workers than keep ones who are unreliable."

Following Cole out to his car, I roll my eyes at his back. "He knew I was unreliable the moment I stepped into his bar. He's desperate, amigo. I could arrive to work drunk off my nut, and he still wouldn't fire me."

"I guess nothin' I say is going to dull your confidence, is it?" He mumbles as we jump into his truck.

I send him a smirk as my answer. With a frustrated shake of his head, he reverses out of the driveway in a hurry; but not before I catch the slight uplift of his lips. He rearranges his face as I allow a chuckle to leave my mouth, and let the silence take over the remaining five minutes of the car ride.

Cole speeds through a Give Way sign across from our work, barely making it into the parking area without clipping the tail-end of a motorcycle. My hands instinctively grip the console for support as he slams on the breaks.

"You complain about me acting carelessly towards my job?" I snort. "You practically have a death wish on these roads; can't work if ya dead, idiota."

He slides out of the truck, leaving a heavy air of silence as he rushes towards the back entrance of the bar, clearly too focused on not being late for work to offer up a backhanded response. A shame, too, because his usual attempts are the only amusement I get around 'ere.

Leisurely, I follow him inside, finding only the scent of his musky aftershave as I make my way to the storage area. I bypass the apron hanging on a crooked hook, still very much adamant on never wearing that hideous thing, and step out behind the bar. Cole stands to one side of the room, making hand gestures as he talks to Billy in rushed whispers.

No doubt blaming my lack of a work ethic on our late arrival by five minutes.

"Where's yo' apron?" Billy storms over, ending Cole's rambling.

I crook a finger towards the back room. "On its hook."

He huffs. "And where should it be?"

"On its hook," I repeat.

"Wrong," he grunts. "Get your apron on, or you'll find yo'self cleanin' the roach invested dumpster out back."

"I'm pre' sure that's a health hazard. How are you still open?"