Free My Soul To Keep (Soul Series Book 1) by Kennedy Ryan

other’s backs. Fight over guys and tattle to Bull every chance they get. I’ll stay out of that fray, thank you very much.
    “Crazy night, huh?” Misty asks.
    “Yeah, crazy.” I walk toward the kitchen, needing to check on one of my orders, when I remember San won’t be picking me up. I turn back to Misty. “Hey, are you catching the bus after work?”
    We’ve walked to the bus stop together more than once. Safety in numbers.
    “Nah, Joe’s coming to get me when the shift is over.”
    Oh, well. I have my mace in my purse and my box cutter in my pocket. It’ll be fine.
    “But we can totally drop you off.” Misty grins, pulling her order pad out of her back pocket. “Your place isn’t far.”
    “That would be great.” I wink and blow her an air kiss. “Mwah!”
    I bump the swinging door with my rear end and wade into the sticky kitchen heat. Turns out the cook is still having trouble keeping up with orders, so I grab some bacon and start frying. It’s only a BLT. I just checked on my customers, and they were all fine for now. This won’t take long. I’m plating the sandwich when Misty comes through the swinging door.
    “Hey, Kai.” A tiny frown draws her strawberry blonde brows together. “There’s an older guy who was asking for you. He’s in your section.”
    Maybe Grady? With a quick nod and a muttered, “Thanks,” I grab the plate and head to the dining room. I serve the BLT while it’s hot and check on my other customers. From behind, I see a broad-shouldered, grey-haired man in my section wearing a seen-better-days fedora.
    “Hi, I’ll be serving you.” I fumble around at my back pocket, searching for my order pad before looking up. Something about him grabs and holds my attention. Have I met him before? Seen him before?
    “Were you asking for me?” I frown and tilt my head to study him closer. “One of the waitresses thought . . .”
    My words trail off while my brain catches up to what my eyes are trying to tell me. Those full lips under that salt-and-pepper moustache. The tanned skin pulled taut over sharp and high cheekbones. The long, unlined, sensitive hands resting on the table. Finally, grey eyes snaring mine and waiting for me to figure it out.
    “Rhyson?”
    He jerks a quick look around the dining room before bringing his eyes back to me.
    “Wow. Why’d I even bother with the disguise?” he asks. “Say my name a little louder. I don’t think TMZ heard you.”
    My hand flies up to my mouth, half in surprise. Half to catch the giggle bubbling up from my throat. I’m partly laughing because he looks ridiculous now that I know it’s him and not some middle-aged stalker. And partly because—I can barely admit this to myself—he was asking Misty for me. He asked San about me. He’s here for me .
    When I’m around Rhyson, all my numb places spark and fizzle. The match has been struck again, and all the dark corners light up just because he’s grinning at me. This guy is such a threat to my focus, my ambitions, my goals. The grin he made on my mouth melts little by little until only a straight line remains.
    “I haven’t changed my mind.”
    His smile vanishes, and he shifts his eyes to the menu as if he’s actually here to eat.
    “Maybe I’ve changed mine.” He looks up at me. “Aren’t you going to tell me the specials?”
    “Hey, Kai!” One of the truckers booms from across the room, impatiently waving his empty beer mug. I hate wearing a nametag sometimes.
    I look back to Rhyson, whose eyes have narrowed to silver slits on the rude trucker with his pants on fire.
    “Specials are on the back,” I tell Rhyson over my shoulder, headed for Mr. Empty. “I’ll take your order in a second.”
    That second turns into ten minutes. Between the table of truckers, the team of volleyballers, and the slow cook in the kitchen, it’s the worst night for Rhyson freakin’ Gray to show up at The Note.
    I finally bustle over to him, blowing at the hair flopping into my