Free Reckless by Kimberly Kincaid Page B

smile. “Did it work?”
    Did. It. Ever. Zoe’s lips parted, and for just a fraction of a second, she wanted nothing more than to rain check everything else around her to find out if his smile tasted as wicked as it looked. But then her eyes dropped to the four-armed crest emblazoned over the top left of his T-shirt, complete with the words Fairview Fire Department, Station Eight printed in bold, bright red letters, and the sight yanked her right back to reality.
    Alex might’ve knocked her for a loop by going above and beyond to correct his mistake, and he might be hitting sexy out of the park with that flirty little half grin, but she couldn’t lose track of what was important, especially not when she had people to feed.
    And double especially not with a risk-happy firefighter who didn’t take her seriously anyway.
    â€œIt’s a good start,” she said, giving herself one last mental thump before turning toward the walk-in refrigerator. “According to city nutrition guidelines, we’ve got to offer at least one serving of fruit or vegetables per meal, though, so we’ll have to get a little creative to pull this off entirely.”
    He followed her to the back of the kitchen, reaching out to hold the oversized stainless steel door she’d just popped open. “I take it the tomato sauce doesn’t count.”
    The cool, manufactured air of the walk-in cemented Zoe’s thoughts into marching order, although she couldn’t quite keep her smile from resurfacing just a little as she stepped all the way inside the frosty space. “I said creative, Alex. Not crazy. But if we borrow the garnish from tomorrow night’s hamburgers and some of the carrots from Saturday’s chicken pot pie, we should have just enough ingredients to make a salad.” Naked burgers weren’t the most appealing thing on the planet, but at least she had ketchup and mustard packets tucked away in the pantry. She’d certainly made do with worse.
    â€œLooks like you’ve done this kind of shuffle before.” Alex reached out for the carton of lettuce Zoe had slid from the metal shelving, hefting it in front of his chest as she turned back to unearth two oversized bags of carrots from the box next to the now-empty slot.
    â€œMost of the people here won’t get fruit or vegetables any other way, so I try to put as many natural ingredients into the meals as I can. Produce is expensive, though, and my budget is pretty slim. I have to get creative to make the ingredients last.”
    His feet kept time with hers, first over the polished steel of the fridge floor, then the clay-colored ceramic tiles as they moved back into the kitchen and regrouped again at the prep table in the center of the room. “I had no idea running a soup kitchen was so involved.”
    The muscles in Zoe’s shoulders unwound from the spot where her apron looped gently behind her neck. She might not be particularly graceful at tackling personal conversations, or okay, even at polite chitchat, but feeding people in a way that mattered? That, she could talk about.
    â€œOnce you get past the menu planning and the set number of meals served almost exclusively buffet style, the mechanics of managing a soup kitchen aren’t all that much different from running the back of a restaurant,” she said, placing the carrots on the table in front of her. “Good planning and solid prep are half the battle.”
    She opened one of the storage drawers set beneath the top of the prep-table-slash-island, sliding out the small handful of tools she’d need in order to take the salad from concept to reality. Each movement fell neatly into the foundation of the one that had come before it, all of them smoothing the last jagged edges of her morning.
    â€œYou ran the kitchen at that restaurant in Washington, DC?” Alex’s shock ghosted over his features, and she met it with some holy crap of her