Page 4 of Bread by the Grim (Ghostlight Falls #4)

Phil

B ernice’s description of Grim certainly did not do him justice.

I was expecting an old grumpy creature. Instead I get a hot, tall (still grumpy) creature answering the door shirtless.

He peers down at me for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out what to make of me while I try not to get caught ogling his chest. He’s not a built man, but I’ve always been into tall and lanky guys—you can thank years in the kitchen with the fuckboy line cooks for that—but the outlines of muscles are there, hidden under the light dusting of green fur that seems to cover most of his body.

Most...or all? Not a polite thought at all for a man who is now my boss.

“I’ll be honest, I was expecting?—”

“A man?” I answer for him.

He makes a face. “A Sasquatch. ”

“Oh, that would make sense, but I’m just a cousin by marriage. Mom and I are the only humans in the whole family. Everyone else is a squatch.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “So, you’ve just graduated?”

The question is loaded, and I wonder for a moment if he’s referring to my age—I’m quite a bit older than the average college grad.

In class, the other students would call me Grandma, even though I wasn’t even thirty.

Grim and I are probably pretty close in age, if I had to guess.

Though I’ve never met anyone of his species—they could all just age really well. Sasquatches do.

I try to take it at face value. It’s a job interview, sort of, even if he’s standing on his doorstep at six-thirty in the morning with his incredibly hot chest for all the world to see.

God, what is wrong with me? Stop ogling your boss.

“Yes, I didn’t go to college right after high school. I took a few years off and worked. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and we didn’t have the money for me to waste college credits trying out different things.”

He nods approvingly. At least, I hope it’s a nod of approval.

Behind me, I can hear Doux, my standard-issue gray tabby, hiss. He is not a hisser, so something must really be bugging him.

“This position is the one replacing Bernice. She is the a.m. chef. She comes in early and does all the donuts and breakfast pastries.”

I back up a little so I can reach Doux’s crate to open it.

He still has his full body harness on, and I mean to attach the leash to it, but Doux’s pretty fast for a chunky seven-year-old I found in a dumpster.

He darts past me and heads straight for Grim.

Grim doesn’t even stop speaking as reaches out a hand to pick up the cat and hand him back to me.

“Payday is every two weeks on the first and the fifteenth. Your shift starts at 2 a.m. Tuesday through Saturday.”

“What happens on Sunday and Monday?”

He tilts his head. “What happens?”

“Are you closed?”

He shakes his head. “Bernice went to church. So Sunday was her day off. Monday is mine.”

“Do you not open on Sundays?”

“We have themed brunches.”

Themed brunch? This guy looks like the last man on the planet who would hold a themed brunch.

He shrugs. “It was Bernice’s brainchild. It was a good idea. Probably my biggest sales day of the week. Drag Queen Brunches. This Sunday is All Hail the Queen—if you have a problem with that, then...” His posture straightens and darkness crosses his eyes.

“No, no, I love a good drag queen brunch as much as the next girl,” I say, hiding my smile down in Doux’s fur .

He clears his throat. “Good. Okay, then it sounds like we can at least try it out. Do you need me to order a ride for you to Bernice’s house? I can take you myself if you don’t mind riding in my old truck, but you’ll have to wait for me to get dressed.”

“Bernice’s?”

He gives me a strange look. “Yeah, Bernice said she’d have a place for you to stay.”

I shake my head. “She’s already sold the place. She told me you’d provide room and board in addition to salary in place of moving expenses.”

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “She said that?”

The look on his face has my stomach dropping.

Obviously, Bernice was offering more than her boss was.

Why would she be so weird? Better yet, why would she put me in this position?

She knows we’re poor. I’ve got loans coming due in six months.

My mind begins to spiral as I pull out my phone and open my email app.

“I promise I’m not making this up. Here’s the last email she sent me.” I hold out the phone to him, and he reads the words under his breath quickly.

“What’s this at the bottom?” He holds up the phone. There at the bottom of the last email is a P.S. I hadn’t really paid attention to until this moment.

P.S. Check under the till.

“Check under the till?” He leaves me standing at the door with Doux in my arms, watching as he goes behind the counter. He hits some buttons on the register, and it opens. Then, he lifts out the tray and pulls out an envelope.

“Hmmph.” He flips it over a few times, then rips it open as he walks back toward me.

A key falls to the ground, the noise of the metal striking the wood floor making Doux meow in concern.

Grim stops and picks it up, flipping it over and over in his right hand as he pulls the piece of paper out of the envelope and flicks it open.

He’s silent as he reads the paper, then sighs.

“Looks like Bernice has everything set up.” He hands me the paper, then steps outside, picking up my suitcases.

“You don’t have to?—”

“Did you read it?” he asks.

I look down at the paper.

BASEMENT’S ALL SET UP FOR PHILLIPA. BE NICE TO HER.

LOVE,

BERNICE

“How did she set up the basement? Wasn’t she in a cast?” I ask.

He shakes his head as he picks up my suitcases, then steps through the door, closing and locking it behind him, before picking them up again and marching off.

He walks behind the counter and heads to the set of swinging doors that separates the front from the kitchen before turning to look at me. “You coming?”

“To the basement with a strange man I just met?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I just smile. “That was a joke. Lead the way.”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I’m leading you to.

I haven’t been down here in forever.” He takes me through the kitchen.

At the very back are two doors. He unlocks one of the doors, hands me the key, and flings the door open.

The stairwell is pitch black. He fumbles around, running his large hands over the wall until he finds a switch.

Light fills the stairs, but still there’s no hint at what awaits us.

All I can see from this angle is the plain concrete of the floor at the end of the stairs.

Grim picks up my suitcases and leads the way down into what, hopefully, is a room with a bed and not some creepy-ass laundry room with an air mattress or worse.