Free Secret Vows (Hideaway (Kimani)) by Rochelle Alers

records produced by Serenity. Jason witnessed in Greer what he and Ana had recognized in Justin Glover. It was untapped raw talent. The song ended to stunned silence. Seconds later Jason found himself on his feet, applauding and whistling through his teeth. She was magnificent!
    Greer stepped off the stage, eyes downcast as she walked quickly in the direction of the kitchen. She smiled at Bobby who shook his head in amazement. He extended his arms, and she moved into his strong embrace. “You were great.”
    She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beats of his heart. “You’re biased.”
    Bobby dropped a kiss on her hair. “Damn straight. You sing as well as my Stella. I used to love to listen to the two of you singing whenever you cooked together.”
    “Do you know that I still cook and sing?” Greer had stopped trying to understand why her aunt’s quirks and idiosyncrasies had influenced her more than her mother’s. Perhaps it was because her mother was a scientist and only dealt in what could be proven so that Greer had found her aunt’s lifestyle much more offbeat and exciting.
    Easing back, Bobby cradled her face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
    Going on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “So am I.”
    At no time since she’d come to Mission Grove had Greer forgotten why she was working at the restaurant. She wasn’t here to reconnect with her uncle or old-timers who’d watched her grow up. Someone was selling guns to those who couldn’t pass the background check. Every two hours she took a break, lingering in the parking lot to observe those coming and going. Charles Bromleigh was still the only name on her list of suspects. He came to Stella’s a minimum of four of the six days they were open for business. Chase always sat at the same table, ordered the day’s special or took advantage of the buffet Thursdays through Saturday. Tap beer was his drink of choice, with never more than two glasses on any given day. Despite his taciturn demeanor he was generous when it came to tipping. Most of the restaurant patrons avoided him as if he carried a communicable disease. The exception was Jason Cole.
    She patted Bobby’s shoulder. “I better check the buffet trays. It looks as if the dim sum, pot sticker dumplings, spring rolls and barbecue spareribs are a big hit tonight.” Greer’s favorite was the steamed dumplings filled with chicken, pork or prawns.
    Her uncle had hired an assistant cook whose mother’s ancestry was traced back several generations to Western China. Although they’d intermarried and assimilated, the women in Andrew’s family continued to prepare the dishes that had been passed down from great-grandmother to grandmother to mother to daughter.
    Greer walked out of the kitchen as Andrew walked in through the opposite swinging door carrying an empty tray. He winked at her. “Great job.”
    She smiled at the slender blond man with sparkling hazel eyes who had legions of young women chasing him. What they hadn’t known was Andrew was in a committed relationship with a much older woman.
    “Thank you. What needs replenishing?”
    “Nothing right now.”
    She returned to the dining floor, picking up discarded plates and flatware, and stacking them in a large plastic bin for the waiters who did double duty as busboys and dishwashers on buffet nights. Greer acknowledged those with a smile and a nod whenever they complimented her singing.
    “Yo, miss. Over here!”
    She turned and made her way to a table with six young men, some who didn’t look old enough to shave. “Yes.”
    One with a five-o’clock shadow held a twenty dollar bill between his fingers. “I’d like to order a pitcher of beer.”
    Resting her hands at her waist, Greer gave him a direct stare. “I have to see some ID. You must be twenty-three to be served alcohol.”
    “Isn’t the legal drinking age twenty-one?”
    “It is.”
    “Then what’s the