Page 9 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

“You were very specific earlier that you aren’t a chef.”

“I’m not. I can cook well because I worked around people who did it professionally. Running a kitchen is their expertise. Feeding two adults is considerably less complicated.”

He nodded as though the distinction required no further defense.

That small habit of his was becoming dangerously attractive.

I tore off a piece of tortilla and glanced around the room. “Do you normally eat the takeout at this table?”

“Sometimes.”

“Was that answer designed to preserve your dignity?”

“It’s mostly accurate.”

I laughed into my wine.

The conversation wandered from there. Rex asked about restaurant management, and I told him about the strange combination of logistics and human behavior involved in getting a dining room through a packed Friday night. I described the point in a busy service when the kitchen, bar, servers, and host stand finally settled into rhythm and I could stand still long enough to hear that everything was working.

“You miss it,” he said.

The observation was simple enough that I didn’t feel examined.

“I think today is the first time I’ve had enough distance to realize how much.”

I set my fork down and looked at the wine in my glass. The past month had been full of meetings with new owners who used phrases like restructuring and operational vision while avoiding any clear answer about my future.

“The worst part wasn’t losing the job yesterday,” I continued. “It was spending weeks being evaluated by people who never watched me run a dinner service. They made decisions about what I contributed without learning what I actually did.”

Rex sat quietly through the pause that followed.

Then he said, “They should have learned.”

I met his eyes and picked up my fork again.

Our attention eventually returned to the folder waiting at the far end of the table.

Rex reached for it only after asking, “Do you want to leave this until morning?”

“No. I’ll sleep better if I know what I’m thinking about.”

He brought the file between us.

Dinner dishes remained where they were while we went through the relevant pages again. Without the demands of sorting the office around us, the conversation moved more slowly.

I explained what I remembered about Gavin mentioning Meredith before the night Brad died.

Rex showed me the recovery notes and repeated what he knew from his side. Meredith had witnessed the first confrontation, but she hadn’t given him information that led to Gavin after he skipped.

“Did anyone ask whether she talked to him after he made bail?” I asked.

Rex looked down at the notes before answering. “The investigation covered the people involved in the original incident. My job afterward was finding Gavin. I didn’t have anything pointing me toward a separate connection between them after his release.”

“But now we know Gavin had been worried about her before Brad died.”

“We know you remember him talking about her. That makes the connection worth checking.”

“You really did keep wondering about him, didn’t you?”