Page 40 of Keeping Skylar (Fractured Hearts #1)

Heath

I glance up at the clock on the wall, again, watching the hands inch ever so slowly towards freedom.

Just an hour and a half to go. The kitchen pulses around me, alive with the clattering of pans, barking orders, and the sizzling of food meeting hot oil.

Most nights, I live for this—the rhythm, the noise, the relentless energy.

But not tonight. Tonight, my thoughts are miles away, drawn instead to the one person who’s starting to feel a lot like home.

The bell rings with a sharp ding, signalling the next round of plates that’s ready to go.

The waitstaff swoop in like clockwork, whisking the dishes off to their respective tables.

Once the last dish is sent out, I untie my apron and sling it over a hook, wiping my hands on a nearby towel.

“Aye, Jimmy!” I call out, raising my voice above the chaos.

“I’m stepping out for fifteen, make sure you take a break too! ”

He acknowledges me with a quick nod, already focused on the next wave of orders.

“Yes chef. Will do,” he replies, tossing me a two-finger salute.

I head towards the back of the restaurant for a moment of peace and quiet.

As soon as I push open the door, a rush of crisp night air greets me.

I inhale deeply, letting the cold fill my lungs and chase out the lingering fumes of oil and smoke that have clung to me all evening.

With the kitchen constantly swamped with non-stop orders, catching a break feels almost like a luxury. Even with the restaurant’s strict reservation-only policy, walk-ins pour in every night without fail. It’s overwhelming for the staff—but, I guess, good for the business.

I try to slip away for small breaks whenever I can, tonight more so than ever, since I promised Skylar I’d text her the moment I stepped out of the kitchen.

We’ve been messaging each other constantly whenever we’re apart, but with her ex-husband in town, I’ve found myself checking in almost every hour.

I don’t know why, but I’ve just got this uneasy feeling he’s up to something shady, desperate to get back at her for leaving him high and dry.

Earlier this week, she messaged me at work to tell me she’d run into Kaden again, this time at the café across from her school. A knot tightened in my stomach at the thought of her being alone with him, cornered and pushed into a conversation she never asked for.

She assured me she was fine, that Kaden hadn’t been threatening, just desperate to rehash the same tired plea he made on her birthday, most of which she’d managed to tune out.

But when she mentioned that he wanted to fix their broken marriage, a surge of possessiveness and sharp, jealous anger flared through me before I could stop it.

My grip tightened around the phone so hard I half expected it to crack in my hand.

The thought of Kaden trying to worm his way back into Skylar’s life filled me with dread.

They’re still technically married, and with a decade of shared memories, all it would take is him dredging up the good times to start pulling at her heartstrings. I fucking hate that.

That guy’s a narcissistic dickwad who never deserved such an amazing woman, let alone the privilege of being her husband.

It burns me up knowing he had her first, my sweet, beautiful Skylar.

But there’s no way in hell I’m letting him waltz back into her life and unravel everything I’ve worked so damn hard to build with her. Not a bloody chance.

Feeling the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, I force myself to take a few steady breaths, trying to push down the storm brewing inside me. Once I manage to calm myself down again, I pull out my phone and type out a message to my girl.

Me: Hi, beautiful. How’s your evening going?

She responds instantly.

Duchess: I’m on my second glass of wine, watching 50 First Dates. I’d say my evening is pretty perfect, but it’s kind of missing something.

Me: Hmm ... It’s either food, sex or me. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess it’s all three, and not in that order.

Duchess: LOL! Well, I have been missing a certain tattooed chef, who happens to make the best food and give the most amazing orgasms. You wouldn’t happen to know where I might find him tonight, would you?

Oh, my little temptress, always knowing exactly what to say to drive me crazy.

Ever since the night of her birthday, when we had sex for the first time, my insatiable hunger for Skylar has me wanting to fuck her on every surface and every piece of furniture in the apartment—TWENTY-FOUR-SEVEN.

I can’t get enough of her sinful body. My hands, mouth and cock, are always finding their way on her, inside her, and worshipping every inch of her. She has me hooked like an addict; the one drug I’ll never stop wanting.

What surprised me the most was how Skylar’s desire seems to mirror mine—intense, insatiable, and completely unfiltered.

Half the time, she’s the one initiating things.

And when we’re out in public? My sweet girl transforms into quite the horny little devil with a mischievous streak that keeps me constantly on edge—in the best kind of way.

One night, on our way home from the movies, she asked me to pull over on the side of a busy road.

I figured she’d spotted something she wanted a better look at, but instead, she leant over to my side, her lips brushing my ear, and whispered that she wanted me to fuck her, right there on the passenger’s seat.

Needless to say, I didn’t need to be asked twice.

The risk of being caught only heightened our pleasure—our orgasms hitting harder and deeper, fuelled by adrenaline and raw desire.

We fucked like animals, wild and unrestrained, giving in to every carnal impulse.

At one point, the passenger seat creaked so violently I was sure it might snap beneath us.

And with the way she clung to me, breathless and trembling, I thought I’d end up breaking her too.

So, you can say it’s been quite a week for Skylar and me. Despite her ex showing up on her birthday, stirring up drama and trying to disrupt the peace we’ve found, we’re still going strong, and only growing closer as each day passes.

Me: I happen to know exactly where this handsome devil is right now, and sadly, it’s not where he wants to be. But don’t worry, sexy girl. He’ll be home soon. His tongue is dying for another taste of you.

Duchess: Better hurry, baby. I may just have a surprise for you.

Fuck me! Now I’m hard as a rock. How the hell am I supposed to walk back into the kitchen like this, facing the staff with a full boner on display?

Ugh, great. Alright, five minutes to figure this out.

I scroll through my phone, looking at sports updates, mostly boxing and rugby. That should do the trick.

A few minutes later, my erection has finally eased up a bit and is far less noticeable than before. Thank God. Breathing in the cool fresh air one last time, I pocket my device and head back inside to finish the final leg of my shift.

I’m just an inch away from the cool room when Jeremy, the restaurant’s manager and owner, strolls into the kitchen. His gaze sweeps around the room until it settles on me. “Ah, Heath! Just the man I was looking for,” he says, sounding overly enthusiastic.

“How can I help you, boss?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t ask me to stay back and discuss ideas for the menu again. Hurry! I’ve got a gorgeous woman to get home to.

“There’s a customer waiting at the bar, eager to meet you and wanting to pass along their compliments.”

Unfazed by the comment—after all, I’m used to receiving countless compliments every night—I simply nod at Jeremy and follow him out to the bar to meet the grateful customer.

As we round the corner, I instantly take note of the man in an expensive looking charcoal grey suit standing with his back to us on the opposite side of the bar.

Jeremy suddenly calls out to the gentleman, addressing him as ‘Mr Grant’, and the moment he turns to face us my eyes widen and my jaw clenches, as I gaze at the one person who, just a week ago, cemented himself as my greatest enemy and fiercest rival.

Kaden stands motionless, looking just as stunned as I am, but his expression swiftly changes from surprise to outright disdain.

“So, this is the infamous chef everyone’s been talking about,” he quips, his gaze sharp with loathing, as if just looking at me offends him.

“I must admit, I’m a little disappointed.

I was picturing someone like Gordan Ramsay walking through the door.

Not a long-lost member of a boy band. But I suppose your cooking speaks for itself.

You’re quite the talent I’ll give you that. ”

“I appreciate the compliment, Mr Grant. But I can assure you, cooking delicious meals isn’t my only talent.” I throw him a casual wink, and just like that, the smug smirk slips from his face, replaced by a cold, menacing glare that could cut glass.

Jeremy interrupts, slapping a hand on my shoulder, utterly unaware of the rising tension between the two men in front of him. “This guy is a local celebrity in our community. In fact, real celebrities come to this restaurant just to sample his cooking,” he boasts, pointing his thumb towards me.

“Is that so?” Kaden scoffs, not looking the slightest bit impressed. Instead, he looks entirely bored of this conversation.

Jeremy is about to respond when one of the wait staff call out to him.

“Looks like that’s my cue to leave. But please, Mr Grant, feel free to stay and chat with our boy Heath here.

He’s the best of the best and we’re thrilled you enjoyed your experience.

” He throws Kaden a wink and gives me a playful slap on the shoulder before strolling off to the hostess desk, leaving me alone with Skylar’s arsehole of an ex-husband.