On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [41]
Without a backward glance or a word to Tucker, Devon strode back up the line and started barking out orders, chivvying the cooks along like a hound amongst the hares. He shouted for Frankie, who rolled his eyes and clapped a long-fingered hand on Lilah’s shoulder. She looked up at him, expecting some joke. The serious expression in his black eyes surprised her, but not as much as his quiet voice saying, “You did a good thing, luv.”
With that pronouncement, he loped back up the line to his station and spun easily into whirling dervish mode, flipping steaks and chops, bending and sliding to a beat only he seemed to hear.
Grant gave Lilah a brief hug and studied her with concern. “You going to be okay?”
Lilah paused, catching her breath and her balance. The world had just tilted sharply to the left and back again, but the cold hand clutched in hers reminded her that this was no time to space out.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “We both are. Right, Tucker?”
Devon’s son nodded mutely. Lilah eyed him, wondering if he was too nervous to speak or what.
Grant shifted from one foot to the other. “Lolly. Hon, I hate to do this to you, but I’ve got to get back out front. Lord only knows what the servers have gotten up to, and with the bartender situation, I’ve gotta . . .”
“Go on,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Shoo. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Great,” he said with relief, and gave Tucker a quick smile before hurrying off.
Leaving Lilah alone with her charge. She looked down at him, and he looked cautiously up at her.
Stalemate.
“Okay,” she said. “You’re gonna have to help me out here. I used to teach kids a few years older than you, and I’ve got lots of younger cousins, but I’ve never nannied before, so if I do something wrong, you hafta let me know.”
Big eyes tracking her every move was her only response.
“My name’s Lilah Jane Tunkle and I’m from a tiny town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Do you know where that is?”
Tucker shook his head, dark curls trembling against his round cheeks. He was really an uncommonly adorable boy. Not surprising, considering he owed at least half of his genetic material to Devon Sparks.
Lilah glanced toward the front of the kitchen where the chef was plating food with single-minded determination, his broad shoulders set in lines so tense they looked about ready to snap.
She didn’t understand the gulf that existed between Devon and Tucker. Why could Devon barely look at his own son? Why didn’t he have joint custody already? And what was with this mute kid? Her cousins never seemed to quiet down.
“Virginia,” she told him now. “The Blue Ridge is part of the Appalachian Mountains, one of the oldest mountain ranges in America.”
Tucker didn’t appear to be listening to her; instead, his gaze had followed hers to the pass. He was staring at his father like Devon was a stranger, or a puzzle he couldn’t work out. It made Lilah’s heart squeeze like a wrung-out washcloth.
“We’ll see your dad later,” she said, steering the boy gently toward the stairs leading down to the locker room and office. She figured they’d be better off to get out of the way.
But Tucker showed his first sign of life, twisting his hand free of hers and planting his feet like a baby mule.
Lilah raised her brows. “What? You want to stay up here?”
Tucker cast her a sidelong glance and, quick as that, the scared kid melted away, buried under a sullen expression.
At a loss, Lilah gestured around them. “Tucker. Come on, this can’t be fun for you. Come on downstairs with me and we’ll . . .” Damnation. Lilah had no idea how to finish that sentence. What on earth were they