Maybe he doesn't see me the way I'm starting to see him. Maybe I'm just an employee, a person he hired because I understoodhis vision. Maybe that moment in the truck were just two people being honest about their fears and nothing more.
But at least now I know there's more to Levi Harper than the gruff, controlling chef who shoots down every idea. There's someone underneath who's scared and determined and trying his best not to fail.
And tomorrow, I'm going to walk into that kitchen and prove to him that I can help him succeed.
Even if he's not ready to let me yet.
Chapter 3 - Levi
I don't leave her driveway until I see the light go on inside the house.
It's a stupid impulse, protective in a way I have no right to be. Maya's not mine to protect. She's my employee, nothing more, and sitting here like some kind of watchdog is crossing lines I've been trying so hard to maintain.
But I wait anyway, engine idling, until I see movement through the front window, a shadow passing by the curtains, and only then do I shift into reverse.
The drive back to my apartment takes ten minutes. Ten minutes of my hands gripping the steering wheel too tight, ten minutes of replaying that conversation in my head, ten minutes of calling myself seven kinds of idiot.
*When it's not at work, you can call me Levi.*
What the hell was I thinking? The whole point of keeping distance is to keep distance, not to give her permission to use my first name like we're friends, like there isn't a massive power imbalance between us, like I'm not spending every shift fighting the urge to touch her.
I pull into my parking spot behind the apartment building and cut the engine, sitting in the sudden silence. The building's not much, a converted house split into four units, but it's close to Juniper's and it's mine and that's all that matters right now.
My phone buzzes. Owen.
*Ivy says you gave Maya Sutton a ride home. Small town, big windows, someone saw your truck in her driveway.*
Of course they did. I'm an idiot for thinking otherwise.
*Her car died. I gave her a ride. That's it.*
*Sure.*
*I'm serious.*
*Ivy also says Maya's really good. Says she watched her work during opening night and the girl knows her way around a kitchen.*
I stare at the text, jaw tight. Of course Ivy noticed. Ivy notices everything. It's what makes her such a good librarian, that attention to detail, that ability to read people and situations. And now she's with Owen, which means Owen knows everything she knows, which means I'm about to get the third degree about my newest employee.
*She's competent,* I text back.
*High praise from you.*
*She needs more experience but she's got potential.*
*Also high praise. You going soft in your old age?*
*Fuck off.*
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again. Then: *Seriously though. You okay? You seemed wound pretty tight at opening night.*
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the seat. Am I okay? I'm running on four hours of sleep a night, mainlining coffee like it's oxygen, obsessing over every detail of a restaurant that's been open for two weeks. I'm watching reservation books like a hawk, reading every online review multiple times, lying awake at three in the morning mentally reviewing each service for mistakes.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I've developed a completely inappropriate fixation on my kitchen helper who'stwelve years younger than me and looks at me like I hung the fucking moon.
*Fine,* I text back. *Just tired.*
*Come by the clinic tomorrow if you need to talk. Lunch is on me.*