Page 45 of Burning Rivalry

“I probably left something on,” Claudia insisted, full of sadness and self-reproach. “It was so late. I was moving on autopilot. I could have left a burner on.”

“Let’s wait and see before we start blaming anyone, including ourselves,” I advised. I needed to take my own advice since, in my mind, Kristoff was already in prison for arson. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave evidence behind, though. Would he?

The sense of living in limbo was close to driving me crazy by the time service began. Of course, our guests wanted to hear about Claudia, concerned over her well-being after hearing about her on the news. Though I didn’t love the idea, she decided to pop her head out from the kitchen to greet people a few times during the course of the evening, like she was proving she was alive and well.

Seeing their reactions warmed my heart, realizing how genuinely relieved they were to find her in good shape. When I reflected on my attitude the first couple of weeks Claudia was with me, how I’d disparaged these people along with her for being locked in this strange fame game, I was ashamed of myself. They truly seemed to care.

I made sure she sat and rested between times, threatening to tie her to the chair in my office more than once. “I heard you out there, and you sounded weak,” I told her at one point late in the evening, checking my phone for only the hundredth time, hoping for a message pointing me toward the fire’s origin.

Her face screwed up like she was ready for battle, but one of the servers called out, stopping her. “Claudia? There’s somebody out here who wants to see you.”

We exchanged a look.

“Who is it?” she asked while she rubbed a hand over her face, exhausted. No amount of pretending would convince me otherwise.

“He wouldn’t say. He just said he was a friend who needed to see you.”

A male friend? I arched an eyebrow, jealousy tightening my chest. She only shrugged. “I don’t have any guy friends. I really don’t have any friends out here at all,” she insisted.

“Probably some asshole reporter thinking he can lure you into making an appearance,” I decided. “I’ll get rid of him.”

“No, let me,” she insisted as she stood with a weary sigh. “I can’t have you do all my fighting for me.”

I admired her strength, but there was something she didn’t understand—that was all I wanted to do. I would be her warrior because I now knew for sure how brave she was. How hard she fought to make it out of the kitchen. The least I could do was ease some of her challenges by taking some of the burden off her shoulders.

Especially since I was convinced Kristoff set the fire as a final fuck you.

I followed at a slight distance, giving her space. She opened the door to the dining room, her head swiveling as she took in the tables, then froze at the side of a tall, contrite-looking man who stood at the bar.

I didn’t need to ask who he was. I knew it the moment I identified the look on his face like she was his.

Her single, whispered word confirmed what I’d suspected. “Brandon.”

18

CLAUDIA

No fucking way.

He was not standing in front of me, having the nerve to look slightly tearful as he approached. “I had to come out,” Brandon murmured while I fought the impulse to shudder at the sound of his voice. There had been a time when I loved the sound of it. When I loved him.

But I didn’t anymore. I now had someone who genuinely cared about me in a way Brandon never could.

“You didn’t bother telling me you were coming,” I muttered, my teeth clenched in a fake smile. Was this really happening? Was I playing nice in front of customers?

“As soon as I heard, I booked the flight, and I’ve been hanging around every night hoping to see you here. You can’t hold it against me,” he insisted in a soft voice. No doubt, many people had asked about me in the days since the fire. I had no idea he was one of them, or I might not have come here.

“Is there someplace we can go? Or would you like to sit down here?” he asked, gesturing toward the stool he had taken at the bar. It was the only way he’d been able to walk in without a reservation.

No. Not here. This asshole did not belong here. “Why don’t we go outside?” I suggested. “Come with me.”

It meant turning around to find Sebastian glaring at Brandon over my shoulder. “Everything will be fine,” I told him in a soft voice that I hoped wouldn’t betray my nerves. “I don’t want to cause a scene in here.”

It was obvious he was ready to explode—jaw tight, nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling fast. “It’ll be fine,” I whispered again. Was I trying to convince him or myself? I didn’t know the answer, settling on motioning for Brandon to follow me through the kitchen once Sebastian finally stepped aside and let us pass. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone in there, going straight for the back door. The sooner I got this over with, the better.

Once we were outside, I immediately took a seat on one of the overturned milk crates by the door. I was winded, and a lot of it probably had to do with the way my pulse raced uncomfortably at Brandon’s surprise appearance. How had his presence ever given me anything but a stomach ache? Oh, right, I used to believe he was actually a decent person who cared about me. Trustworthy. Honest.

“You shouldn’t have come out,” I told him once the door was closed and we were alone. “I really don’t have anything to say to you.”