Bought His Life Read Online Free PDF

and the remainder of his yummy body?
    He rubbed the stubble on his strong jaw. “Oh, I’m sure to meet all your requirements , ma’am. If you—”
    “Shoot,” Emily interrupted, rising to her toes to look over his shoulder at the restaurant’s entrance, lined with yet another growing cluster of customers. “I can’t do this now. I have to get back to work.”
    She tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear, pasted a welcoming smile on her face and shrugged at the intriguing man as she reached for the laminated menus. “Time to seat more guests.”
    Jack couldn’t help but admire the woman’s heart-shaped behind while she sashayed into the crowd of hungry tourists. Damn, what a mission. All he had to do was spend a few days with this redheaded bombshell, convince her to sell him his own watch, and retrieve a notebook that could easily be considered misplaced. Then he would find a way back to 1944.
    Grabbing an empty bus pan and a clean towel from a bucket of soapy water, he moved quickly and prepared tables for her to assign. Setting a table hadn’t changed since his time. It didn’t take a scientist to figure out where to place the cups and silverware. On the way to the kitchen with a heap of dirty plates in his hands, he saw her glance at him. He smiled, returned her earlier shrug and kicked open the swinging door.
    “Hey, can you show me to the wash sink?” Jack asked the man standing over the flat top.
    “Where have you been living for the past century?” the scrawny man replied as he threw chopped onions on the grill. “Rinse them and use the freakin’ dishwasher.”
    “Thanks.” Jack scanned the room. The cook was the only other man in the kitchen, so perhaps the dishwasher was on break. He placed the loaded pan in the sink and turned on the water to rinse the dishes.
    “No, man, not there,” the lanky fellow continued. “That’s the prep sink. Use the one by the dishwasher.”
    Had the guy lost his marbles? There was no dishwasher in the kitchen. Puzzled, Jack considered what to do. He was over seventy years behind the times, and many things had changed since he’d last been in a kitchen, but washing up meant washing up, in any era. Using a wet washcloth, he plugged the drain in the sink the cook had indicated and turned on the hot water.
    “Stop. You’re going to make double the work for me.” The other guy grumbled under his breath and waved Jack away. “Worried you’ll break a nail in my kitchen?”
    Break a nail? Seriously? He should have decked the kid to show him pretty, but instead, Jack crossed his arms over his chest and considered how to get the cook’s cooperation. Shaking off the unsettling realization he didn’t have all the facts and therefore was not in full control, he decided to ask for specific instruction.
    “Excuse me.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to appear ignorant, but I haven’t really worked in a kitchen like this before. Is it possible you could show me what and how to do it?”
    “Aw, man, what the hell did Em hire you for? She’s usually immune to pretty boys.”
    Taking a deep breath, Jack swallowed the recurring impulse to deck the punk. He needed this callous chef to secure his access to the watch. He needed the kid’s help.
    “I need this job. Instruct me once, and I’ll complete the task on my own.”
    The cook snapped the rubber gloves off and shook his head. “Once, man, just once.”
    “Thank you.” Jack stepped back and awaited direction.
    “Yeah, we all have to start somewhere.” The grump walked past him toward the pile of dishes. “My name is Rick.”
    “Pleasure to meet you, Rick. I’m Jack.” He offered his hand.
    “Watup, Jack-off.” The cook quickly lifted his eyes in greeting. “Now get that stick out of your ass. This ain’t Harvard, ya know? I ain’t gonna hold your hand or anything. If you don’t get it, I’m telling the boss lady to cut you loose.”
    Rick needed a lesson in respect, and Jack was