Famine’s Feast: Excerpt

Olivia
Her running shoes beat a steady rhythm on the hard-packed earth, matching the thumping bass coming through the earbuds she probably shouldn’t have been wearing while running in the desert by herself.

Of course, two hours before dawn, the only thing out here was her, and maybe a mountain lion or two. The morning chill would keep the snakes and scorpions snug in their dens. She didn’t mind the animals though. They were less dangerous than what had lived at her last address.

These were her only moments of peace. Too soon, she’d have to be fresh-faced, smiling, and ready for her spot at the omelet station for the breakfast buffet—which would then be followed by eight hours of Jake McBride—AKA the kitchen troll—looming over her shoulder like a fucking vulture.

He didn’t speak Spanish, thank God. Otherwise, she’d have been fired after the first week. Several of the kitchen staff did, but oddly enough, they never told on her.

She didn’t know the words to adequately convey how much she despised him. With all the fires of a burning sun, she loathed his rich baritone voice, the astringent scent of his herbal soap reeking of rosemary and sage, and the measured sound of his nonskid shoes on the tiled kitchen floor. Everything about him abraded her senses, leaving them jangling and out of sync until she could barely concentrate.

He reminded her of drain cleaner. It was as if he was specifically designed to dissolve people into sludge. His caustic commentary on her food ate at her very bones. The steady gaze of his poisonous blue eyes did the same thing to her soul.

Was he better than prison? She’d thought so at first.

Worse, she kept trying to please him. Every step she made in his kitchen was thought out, carefully calculated in a vain attempt to receive a word of praise. Just one would have made everything she did worthwhile.

Fuck my life. He said I was adequate, and it about stopped my heart with pleasure.

As she approached the best part of her morning run, she pushed Jake and her stupid praise kink out of her head. She might have to spend all day with him, but this was her time. Slowing to a walk, she approached the small escarpment and sighed happily. After a few swallows from her water bottle, she slid her earbuds into her pocket, then stuffed her shoes, socks, and jacket into her pack. Wearing only a sports bra and shorts, she began her free climb.

This far out in the desert, there was no light pollution to diffuse illumination from the stars and lowering moon. Her handholds, memorized after weeks, were visible and it felt as if they almost reached for her hands and feet.

You belong here, the cliff said. You are welcome.

The rock face was a personal challenge between her body and all the forces that had sought to drag her down for so many years. Every time she reached the top, it meant another triumph.

Another day where she lifted herself from her past with bleeding fingers.

And if Karma or some deity with nothing better to do decided to yank her off her cliff someday? That was okay too.

It wouldn’t be today.

Muscles burning, she reached the top and… breathed. Sweat cooled on her body, making her shiver, but it felt too good to reach for her jacket. Although she was less than a hundred feet up, the air felt different somehow, like it welcomed her to the rarified heights where only she could go. It was sanctified in silence and peace.

Granted, there was a relatively easy trail on the other side, but she only used it for the trip down. She might be crazy enough to free climb in the dark on the way up, but she didn’t have a death wish. Bare toes gripping the edge of the cliff, she relaxed her muscles as she watched false dawn come and go.

With her mind at rest, she sighed, filling herself with as much calm as her secret place could give her. It was almost time to head back and clean up for work.

“Rivera, your cooking isn’t that bad. I’ll give you a reference to McDonalds if you can’t handle it here, but don’t splatter cute Latina all over my desert. I don’t have time for the paperwork.”

Fuck’s sake! Could she get no peace from the man? Holding the curse inside, she tried to turn, but her toe caught on the edge and made her fall backward. Screaming, she windmilled her arms in a desperate attempt to keep her balance. Her feet found nothing to stand on and all she could think about was that Jake called her cute.

Karma was a cast-iron bitch.

Without warning, something grabbed her wrist hard, then yanked her away from the edge. The motion sent her sprawling at Jake’s feet.

“Are you okay?”

Hauling in a deep breath, she looked up at him, but the darkness prevented her from seeing his expression. Slowly, she got to her hands and knees, then stood. Her shoulder throbbed, both from Jake’s violent pull on her arm and her fall, but she was fine otherwise.

Sure she’d heard a note of concern in his voice, she smiled. “Yes, sir. Thank you for—”

“Since your attempt at suicide was just as inept as your poached salmon, I trust you won’t be late to work?”

Hate him. Fires of a burning sun. Drain cleaner. Jail was definitely better than this bullshit.

“No, sir.”

***
Jake
His heart pounded, both from the desperate race to the top of the cliff when he saw her standing on the edge, and from her mishap.

She’d have been killed.

He made a note never to buy another lottery ticket. He’d used a lifetime of luck. It had been sheer chance that he’d seen her from the road. Hell, it was incredible coincidence in the first place, considering the only reason he was out at this ungodly hour at all was to pick up some hardware from the Walmart in Winslow for a plumbing issue in one of the guest suites.

If he hadn’t been… He stopped the thought in its tracks.

As he tried to get his shit together so he could speak without wanting to beat her ass, she retrieved a fleece jacket from her pack and put it on before her shoes and socks.

Without a word, she got to her feet and jogged down the trail, forcing him to hurry to catch up.

“Where’s the fire, Rivera?” he called out.

She quickened her pace. “You told me not to be late, sir.”

“God damned fucking runners.” Bearing down, he caught up with her, then cut in front to force her to stop. “Why were you going to kill yourself.”

“I wasn’t. I—”

“I saw you, Olivia. You made your imminent swan dive abundantly clear.”

Her jaw worked and a vein pulsed in her forehead. “Sir, am I off the clock?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Am. I. Off. The. Clock? Will you fire me if answer truthfully?”

The fear left his body but was replaced by another kind of tension. Would she finally say all the words she’d hidden behind Spanish curses? He wasn’t sure how he wanted to respond, but his cock shot hard at the thought of what she might tell him.

“No,” he finally said. “Nobody is going to fire you for telling the truth.”

“Good.” She took a step back, then looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with furious tears. “You’re a fucking asshole, Jake McBride. I hate you. I hate your tasteless food with too much pepper and not enough salt. I hate that you can’t even smell it when you fuck up, and that you don’t believe me when I try to say something.”

Mess up one steak and never hear the end of it.

Was it possible she suffered from hyperosmia? It would explain her gift with sauces and flavor profiles, even with such limited experience. Damn. If he’d even guessed at something like that…

And now… he was jealous.

“Go on,” he finally said, enjoying the way her tentative, halting speech smoothed into a delicious accent that made his cock stand to attention.

“I hate that you can’t make a decent omelet to save your life. I hate your constant criticism when I know I’m doing a good job, and I especially hate that it’s worse when I do something better than you.”

“Is that all?” he asked, hiding a smile. It might have taken a near-death experience, but he was delighted she was finally telling what he’d needed her to say for weeks.

The moonlight was nearly gone, meaning he couldn’t see her very well, but one last shard of silvery light caught her face. Her dark hair hung to the middle of her back in loose spiral curls from a ponytail at the base of her neck, and her brown eyes sparkled like chocolate diamonds. A faint sheen of sweat on her face made her glisten, and she’d never looked more glorious.

“No.” She jammed a finger into his chest, making him move back a step. “I absolutely cannot stand that I still want to hear you tell me I did a good job. Just one time.”

Interesting. If he’d realized Olivia had a praise kink, he might have handled things differently. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good choice, considering they were coworkers. Too bad his dick thought it was an excellent idea.

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” She hauled in a breath and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “I’m walking on fucking eggshells every day because of you. I hate that my nerves misfire and it feels like ants are crawling all over me every time you speak or move. I hate the way your shoes squeak. I hate your stupid soap because it makes everything smell wrong, and I hate that you’re too nose-blind to recognize it. And I really hate that I’m thinking about breaking parole so they’ll send me back to jail, just so I can get away from your arrogant ass!”

“No,” he replied softly, taking a step toward her. “You’re not going to be doing that.”

She snorted and turned away. “You have no idea how close you are to a carving knife between your ribs every time you open your mouth. I wouldn’t lose a minute’s sleep, and best of all, they’d send me to Perryville instead of Navajo County Detention.”

“What’s so great about Perryville?”

“It’s further away from you.” She stepped around him, then took off down the trail.

“Tell me how you really feel,” he murmured.

Instead of chasing her, he let her go and thought about everything she’d said. Unfortunately, it left him with more questions than answers.

Why hadn’t she blown up earlier? With as much as she’d obviously held inside, she should have set him down weeks ago. At the very least, she should have complained to Kendra.

Thankfully, she hadn’t. He wanted Olivia close where he would watch her. Something inside him needed to have her nearby, and Kendra would have moved her to another position in a heartbeat.

The closer he got to his truck, the more he worried. He didn’t understand why he made her feel like ants were crawling on her, but that couldn’t continue.

Making her work for praise, yes, that was well within what he was willing to do. Physically harming her wasn’t on his agenda.

There was another problem too. She hadn’t given him the one answer he really wanted.

Why had she been on that cliff?