"Luis, I need one veggie burger and a double for table seven, please." I step into the kitchen entrance before pinning the order at the top of the board where Luis can see it. He snatches it up, while already sizzling some vegetables on the grill, before reattaching it again.
"Got it, guapa." Luis answers with a wink, making me chuckle.
Luis is one of our cooks. He's fifty, married and a father of two. I never thought I'd have a fifty years old as a friend but guess Nashville keeps surprising me. He's like a father figure and I'm definitely not complaining. We don't have much in common except maybe that we enjoy taking care of people we love. Oh, and maybe our mutual dislike of Addison. He actually used the word hate but I wouldn't go that far.
I just know we'll never be friend, but she's never been outright cruel with me, or maybe she just had comments to make about me but, weirdly enough, the simple thought of it doesn't make me feel bad. And I'm pretty sure that if I'll hear them one day, it won't stuck in my head, which is an improvement. I'm learning to care less about what people think of me — even if some days are harder than others. I try to tell myself that my worth isn't measured by their opinions. My family and my friends know who I am and that's enough.
I go back there, seat a family of four and a couple, who look like they're on a first date. Smiling to myself, I head back to Luis. The scent of something cooking on the grill fills the air as the cooks in the kitchen shout orders and talk among themselves. They move in harmony, like a well-oiled machine and they seem to anticipate each other's steps. I laugh when Pierre, a young French exchange student, newly set in Nashville, comes into view by sliding past me with two plates in hand. My burgers.
Luis follows behind with another dish. "Stop acting like a fool," he scolds Pierre in his thick Spanish accent.
Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Here's your order Mad'." Pierre tells me as he hands me the plates, deliberately ignoring Luis and I struggle to keep my laugh in.
Pierre is nice. He's a twenty-one years old law student. And for a French guy, he really has a good accent. Yep, call it cliché all you want, but that's true. He's super nice and already tried to hit on me. Too bad for him, Jude was with me when it happened and it was so funny seeing him shrunk under Jude's glare. Well, funny to me ; not to him but he got over it. And he was actually impressed by The Jude Miller. Yeah, turns out the boy is a huge hockey fan.
"And this is an order for table..." He glances at the ticket. "Table two."
It's not my table but guess Addison is MIA again. The customer must have been waiting, so I take it.
"Got it. Thanks guys."
I serve table seven first, with their orders of burgers and sweet potato fries. Before going to table two with the simple burger. It's a woman and I'm behind her so I don't really anything but her back. Though, something tells me I know her. Steeping to her left side, I serve her.
"Enjoy your meal," I say with a warm smile before heading to table three, where a group of friends await for their orders to be taken. Tonight, I'm taking odd-numbered tables from one to seven.
"Be back in a few," I tell then after jotting everything.
When I turn, I can finally have a look at the woman from table two. Isabella.
I freeze, not knowing what to do. The woman is already watching me, hand on her cheek and a smile. An unsettling smile on her face. I force a neutral expression but she keeps looking at me, evaluating me, judging me. She finally shakes her head and it's dripping with judgement. An uneasy feelings creep in my bones. It's like I'm being scrutinized all over again by someone who doesn't know me. And the common point ?
YOU ARE READING
The Hot Hockey Player
Romance🌸 So far, so good. Despite everything, Madeline's still standing, still living - though her life has been upended more than once. Moving from America to England wasn't exactly easy but oddly enough, the return was much simpler. With little more tha...
