by Sammi Cee
“Okay,” he said softly, batting his eyelashes to clear the leftover moisture. He’d stopped the tears from falling, but that wasn’t the relief it should’ve been. Instead, it drove home how much I wanted to know Davis's story; how much I wanted to be a safe place for him to confide. As his boss, that was a possibility, but I wasn’t the type of man to lie to myself. Listening to Davis's story would never be enough if offering him comfort in my arms wasn’t on the table.
“Can I come in?”
He pulled back from my fingertips and glanced over his shoulder, then shrugged. “Sorry, it’s not the nicest place, but… Let me run into the bathroom and get ready. I’ll be fast.”
He rushed quickly out of the room through an open door and slammed it, so I yelled, “Take your time.” His feelings of helplessness and inferiority when he’d opened the door had been so intense that I’d missed he was only half-dressed in a pair of pajama pants until he was almost out of sight. Which honestly, was probably for the best. I did catch enough to know that the pajama pants had to be another of Billy’s hand-me-downs. They were emerald and shiny and totally not Davis. An unexpected chuckle escaped my lips until I took in the apartment. It was as small as the stroll down the hall had hinted. The doors were all too close together for the insides to be much more than shoeboxes, and I was right.
The living room held a small futon that had seen better days, but just like Davis had been since the first time I’d met him, it was clean. All of his stuff was, actually. The coffee table in front of the futon was nicked and scratched, probably second-hand, but it shone by the light the standing lamp in the corner cast. Davis had thin curtains for the one window and the balcony door open, so the storm raging on was the perfect backdrop for my grim perusal of the small space.
The sidewall opposite of the door he’d bolted through had a cheap, chipped ceramic counter on top of the only, doorless cabinets in the place. A few bowls and glasses sat forlornly on the shelves. To the right of the counter was a small standalone sink that belonged in a half-bath with an old-school refrigerator next to it. If not for the permanent marker drawings on the door, one could pretend it was cool and vintage. Cocking my head, I heard the unmistakable sounds of the shower running behind the door he’d closed on me, so I gave in to the urge to check what he was eating and opened the fridge. It held a half-gallon of milk, a couple of puddings, lunch meat, and cheese. That wasn’t a lot of food, but with the box of Fruit Loops on the counter and the cup of noodles and peanut butter, it reassured me he was at least eating. On closer inspection, I also found a hot plate with a pot sitting on it on the far-left corner of the counter. Between this and what we fed him at the bar, some of my anxiety over his diet fled.
While I waited, I walked over to the balcony to see Davis's view. The concrete ground of the balcony outside his door seemed to have held up unlike so many others, but half of the railing was missing. I sighed with relief that he had no chairs or anything else indicating that he spent any time out there. Beyond that was the parking lot where my own truck was parked. The black Audi had left, but the man who’d had the trash bag over his head leaned against the building perpendicular to this one. I guessed closing business for a day wasn’t an option, even with the rain.
The thought of what else happened in that parking lot on a nicer day curdled my stomach, making me thankful I hadn’t stopped to eat before coming. Maybe I should bring Davis home every night. If I couldn’t, I was sure Bull would. The thought of quirky Billy out in that parking lot where someone could jump in front of his car as he exited and do god knows what to him wasn’t any more a comforting thought than Davis walking up to his apartment. Another bone-weary sigh escaped as I rubbed a hand over my face. What was I going to do?
Chapter Nine
Davis
My hands shook violently as I ran a soapy, threadbare rag over my body. The water was only luke-warm, and the pressure wasn’t more than a stream, but I didn’t plan on lingering in the bathroom, anyway. Not because I didn’t want to, since hiding out seemed like the best possible scenario, but because Sarge wasn’t the type who appreciated being told to wait. But the fact he was out there, seeing how little I had in my dumpy apartment, had me wishing I could stay in the bathroom until he gave up and left.
He saw where I lived.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and my eyes prickled with tears of shame. I should’ve been proud of the fact I was able to support myself and make the most of my meager belongings. I had a roof over my head rather than living on the streets. And there was some food in the fridge rather than just packs of noodles. But I wasn’t proud. I was seeing my place through his eyes, and I didn’t like it—not one bit. He owned a successful business and drove a truck that shined brighter than the sun. What did I have? Hand-me-down clothes, an apartment that should’ve been condemned long ago, and two callused feet from walking too much.
I finally forced myself to shut off the water, though my entire body was shaking now rather than just my hands. I tried to tell myself it was because the water had turned ice-cold, but that’d just be lying to myself. My tremors were strictly from the imposing man waiting in my living room.
I stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel I’d hung on the bar to dry. After swiping it thoroughly over my body and running it through my hair, I went to hang it back up and realized my mistake. I brought my fist up to my mouth and sank my teeth into my skin to stifle the guttural moan I let out. In my haste to get into the bathroom, I’d forgotten to grab my clothes from my bedroom.
My body seized with panic as I stood stark naked in the bathroom while trying to figure out what to do. I only had two options and neither of them allowed for me to climb out a window since the bathroom didn’t have one.
One was to ask Sarge to grab my clothes for me, which...no way. That’d mean he’d see my barely-holding-together bed. My pathetic excuse for a wardrobe that’d just marginally beefed up thanks to Billy. And worst of all...my underwear.
No. Just no.
The other wasn’t any better, but it was the one I was going to have to go with. With a deep sigh that I felt through my entire body, I wrapped the flimsy towel around my waist and cracked open the door. I peeked through with one eye and glanced around wildly. I could see the back of Sarge’s head as he sat on my futon, and I winced as I silently prayed to whoever was listening that it’d hold up under his weight. He was a mountain of a man, and I was sure that piece of furniture had a weight-limit, though I couldn’t be sure since it was bought at the consignment shop. But at least he wasn’t looking at me.
Pulling the door open a little wider, I held my breath in the hope it didn’t make a sound before I tip-toed out of the bathroom. I tried to make myself as light as possible to not draw attention to myself before I scurried to the bedroom next door without him seeing me. Only once the door was shut behind me did I lean against it and sag in relief.
“Everything okay in there?” Sarge’s deep, gravelly voice called out.
“Y-yes. J-just g-getting d-dressed,” I stammered.
I forced myself to push off the door and stepped toward the joke of what the complex called a closet. It was a hole carved into the wall with a bar shoved inside that was being held up with superglue and tape. Since I didn’t have many clothes, it worked. But I was worried if I added any more, the bar would fall off. After donning my Full Throttle shirt and a pair of jeans—courtesy of Billy—I quickly shoved my feet into a pair of socks and some shoes. All I needed to do was brush my teeth and hair, and then I’d be ready to go.
Sarge didn’t turn to look in my direction when I emerged, but I felt compelled to say something. “I’m almost done.”
There, I didn’t stammer that time, but my voice was still soft and barely above a whisper.
“I told you to take your time.”
I didn’t say anything else as I stepped into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Hearing his voice didn’t fill me with the anxiety I thought it would, but I was st
ill a bit off-kilter. Just knowing he was outside my bathroom door, only a few feet away while I had taken a shower and now brushed my hair was...unsettling. But also, knowing he came out of his way to pick me up so I didn’t have to swim to work from the bus stop had my heart fluttering in my chest a little.
“I’m ready,” I told him when I finally finished up.
“Great,” Sarge said as he stood and finally faced me.
His eyes raked over my body, and I wasn’t sure if it was to check me out or make sure I looked presentable enough for work, but either way, my body shivered again and there were more flutters in my chest.
“Let’s go,” he demanded gruffly.
I didn’t say another word as I locked up my apartment and followed Sarge to his truck. I tried to avoid looking at the shambles of my building as I passed through the hallway and down the stairs, but I couldn’t help but glance at the cracked walls, exposed wires, and the crumbling foundation, and wonder what Sarge thought when he stepped inside.
The drive to work was quiet, and the cab of his truck was heavy with tension. When we arrived at the bar, Sarge kept his mouth shut when we stepped inside. He immediately made his way to the bar to check with Rex while I clocked in and went right to the kitchen to see if Ralph needed any help. Since the bar was known for Ralph’s good food and Sarge’s top draft at cheap prices, Ralph could always use help prepping for the evening. He seemed relieved to see me since a delivery had arrived, and without being asked, I set about helping him put things away, run a load of dishes through, and even helped put some veggies in labeled containers.
Helping Ralph was the distraction I needed and an excuse to let me hide from Sarge for a few hours. Otherwise, I’d allow my mind to wander back to the fact Sarge knew where I lived and he saw just how lowly I’d sank. Granted, people had it worse than me, but I was a paycheck away from being a statistic before Sarge gave me a break. And my apartment wasn’t exactly the safest place to be alone at night.
“Thanks, kid,” Ralph told me when he handed me my usual burger with a side of fries. “You earned this.”
“I should be thanking you,” I told him before carrying my food to an empty table so I could devour my meal.
I could see Sarge talking to Rex from my periphery as I ate, and the way he looked at me with a satisfied expression had me curious and pleased. Why was he happy I was eating? Didn’t he look through my cabinets and fridge to see I actually had food? The entire afternoon had a mix of emotions going through me vying to be the one I felt more than anything else, and all it did was leave me breathless and dizzy.
I didn’t have time for anxiety. I had a job to do and tips to make so I could get out of my current living situation. Sarge was my boss, and all he did was ensure an employee didn’t show up to work soaking wet. Nothing more, and nothing less, and I needed to stop turning an ant hill into Mount Everest. He would’ve done the same thing for anyone else.
But that kiss, my stupid brain reminded me.
Not the time, I growled internally to myself.
I’d done so well at forgetting it had happened, and my stupid, stupid brain had to remind me of it. If I could’ve kicked its ass, I would’ve tried right then and there.
I finished eating, took my plate to the kitchen to rinse it off and stack it in the dish rack for Ralph, and quickly washed my hands before gathering up my order pad and a pen. I had tips to earn, not an overprotective, sexy as hell boss to worry about.
The crowd started to amble in as soon as the sun set, and I threw myself into work and pretended Sarge’s eyes weren’t following my every move. I tried to keep myself from looking behind the bar as he expertly mixed drinks and pulled beers with the perfect amount of foam. But that proved to be more difficult than I’d hoped. When I saw Lawson waltz in like he owned the place, I wanted to cry in relief. Knowing they would be engrossed in conversation would hopefully prevent me from stealing glances, and he’d be too preoccupied to watch me.
“Where’s your head tonight, kid?” Hunt asked when I walked past their table. It wasn’t in a condescending tone, but more out of concern.
“What...what do you mean?”
“Are you forgetting something?”
I frowned as I looked down at my order pad and then at the table. Rather than give me a hint while I ran my eyes over their plates, the men sat patiently and waited for me to figure out my mistake. All their food was correct, so what was I forgetting? Then it hit me.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Hunt. I’ll grab your hot sauce right away.”
I rushed away to get the bottle before he could say anything else, all the while mentally chastising myself about my epic fail. I’d been off my game all night, making mistakes that would’ve been expected during my first week, but not acceptable now. I dropped a tray loaded down with drinks. Took a food order to the wrong table. Forgot to put an order in, and had to beg Ralph to rush it. But forgetting Hunt’s hot sauce wasn’t okay. He always got hot sauce with his food like it was a side dish, and to forget it was worse than all my other mistakes combined.
“What’s going on with you?” Hunt asked when I set the bottle in front of him.
“Nothing,” I answered softly as I stared down at my order pad. “I’m really sorry. I’ll see if Sarge will give you your food for free, or I’ll pay for it.”
“Oh, bullshit. You’ll do no such thing. You’re not working for these tips because you’re bored, you’re doing it because you need the money. It’s only hot sauce, and typically, I wouldn’t care. But I can see you’re not yourself tonight, so I took the missing bottle as a chance to ask you why you’re off your game. What’s wrong, kid?”
“I’m just having a bad day,” I told him, not going into why my day had been tilted on its axis.
“Well, whatever it is, it’ll get better. And if it doesn’t”—Hunt cracked his knuckles—“come find me.”
Hunt made me smile. I knew under that tough exterior beat the heart of a bear cub, but it felt good to know he had my back—even if I did forget his hot sauce. But there was no way I was going to tell him it was Sarge who had thrown me so off course I was afraid I’d never find my way back.
For the rest of the night, I worked hard to make sure I had no more mishaps, and then it was closing time. I eyed the floor as I swept and mopped it, and thought about seeing if I could come in early or stay late to give it a proper polish. It had a tough exterior from years of wear and tear, but I knew with a little TLC that it’d be able to shine.
“I’m taking you home,” Sarge announced when everyone else had left. “Let’s go.”
His authoritative voice told me there was no point in arguing, and I found myself waiting while he locked up before we made our way to his truck. The drive to my apartment was pretty much the same as the drive to work—silent and tense. And I knew I needed to say something to break that.
“Th-thank you for picking me up and t-taking me h-home.” Jesus, would I ever be able to speak in front of that man without sounding like an idiot?
Sarge only grunted. I bit down on the inside of my cheek as I stared out the window at the dark road as it passed by, wondering what his grunt meant when translated. When he pulled up to my building, Sarge surprised me by shutting off the ignition and climbing out of the truck.
“You don’t need to walk me in,” I protested, but the look he shot me had me snapping my lips shut.
“Yes, I do,” was his brusque response.
I only nodded and followed Sarge through the broken door and down the dark corridor toward the stairs. As I climbed behind him, I tried not to pay attention to how great his ass looked in his tight jeans and focused on not tripping over the broken steps instead. When we finally made it to my door, I was grateful the hallway was as dark as the rest of the building so he couldn’t see my flushed cheeks.
“Thank you, again. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finally said when a few moments of awkward silence passed between us.
“You will.” He surprised me by re
aching out and grabbing my chin in his thumb and finger. Even though I could barely make out his features, I swore he could see into my soul and was finding out my deepest secrets. Was he leaning toward me? Did he want to kiss me again? Did I want him to? Clearly I did, if my body swaying forward was any indication. But he didn’t. Instead, he dropped my chin and took a step back.
“Never lie to me again.”
And then he was gone, leaving me breathless and even more confused than ever before.
Chapter Ten
Sarge
Full Throttle was packed tonight, which wasn’t unusual for a Friday night. It had been two days since what I’d dubbed the Storm Incident happened, and Davis finally had his groove back. After commanding him to never lie to me again when I dropped him off on Wednesday night, I’d kept my distance. I either needed to put up or shut up, and I didn’t want to confuse him. Billy bounced up to the bar with a huge smile. “Hey, Sarge. This crowd tonight is too much fun.”
“Oh yeah?” Rex asked from beside me where he was pouring a drink. “Looks like mostly regulars to me.”
Billy ran his fingers through his hair and waggled his brows at us. “It is, that’s what makes it a great night. It’s fun to play with new customers, but when the place is packed with regulars, it’s like slipping on a nice pair of fuzzy slippers.”
Rex nudged me in the side. “Can you believe this guy? We have a room full of bikers and he’s comparing them to fuzzy slippers. Don’t tell me”—he focused on Billy—“they’re pink slippers, too?”
Davis rushed up, dropping his tray on the bar-top right in front of him. “What about pink slippers?”
