by Chiah Wilder
“Well, I didn’t have you in mind when it was built.”
“You had this custom done for you?” He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner and whistled. “Fancy.”
“Says the man who secretly owns a business.” Lena came up behind him and goosed his butt before she perched on the countertop behind him.
There was a lot to admire in her kitchen, and she took full advantage of the fact. If she could sneak some photos without him knowing, she knew her best friend would die. But there was no way to hide that she was taking a blatant picture of him cooking shirtless, and there was no way Tank would let her live that down.
“You’re staring at me a lot. You want to get out your camera to save the memory?”
Her mouth fell open, shocked that he had practically read her mind.
“You’re feisty in the morning,” she said.
“I had a helluva night with an amazing woman.”
Heat radiated across her cheeks, and she looked away.
“Don’t get shy on me now, especially after last night.” Cupping his hand under her chin, he lifted her head and pressed his mouth on hers. “You look gorgeous in the morning.” Breaking away, he turned back to the griddle.
“So do you. .” She crossed her legs. “I gather you’re a morning person?”
“Yep—morning works for me—always has. I’m guessing you’re not?” He flipped another two pancakes on the griddle and pointed his spatula toward her coffeemaker. “I would have made some, but that thing is a little intimidating. I didn’t want to break anything.”
“I’m forced to be a morning person, but I love the night.” Lena hopped down from the counter. “I’ll make the coffee. This machine is amazing—it does a lot of things.”
“From the look of it, with all the buttons and shit, I figured that out.” He pointed to the stack of flapjacks on the griddle. “We’re about ready to eat, so work your magic, and I’ll keep working mine.”
She laughed. “He says to the chef.”
The next several minutes were spent making coffee, bantering, and joking back and forth with each other as Lena made herself a latte and finished making a black iced coffee for Tank. The interaction between them felt so comfortable and familiar.
“Finished with everything?” she asked, sliding his coffee glass across the countertop as he plated their pancakes at the table.
“Almost.” He came around the island and snagged her around the waist. “I didn’t give you a real good morning kiss.” He looked into her eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. Leaning forward, he kissed her until all the breath left her lungs.
God, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. The fact that he was, and pulling out her chair for her as she sat down to a delicious meal cooked for her, nearly made her brain melt into a puddle on the floor.
“You know, I’ll be critiquing this meal the whole way through.”
He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Pushing back, he gripped the bottle of syrup and poured it on his pancakes, cut off a large piece, and shoved it into his mouth. “If one night made you lose your ballbuster exterior, I think that would play to my ego way too much. Give me your review.”
“You got it.” She put the first bite into her mouth and chewed, expecting a consistency of rubber or concrete. “Wow.”
“Good wow or bad wow?” Tank took a sip of his black coffee, eyeing her over the rim of his glass.
“Actually, damn good. What did you use—”
“Nope. Not gonna happen. My secrets stay secret, Master Chef.”
She giggled. “Ah, I see.”
They ate in comfortable silence.
“You thought I’d be gone this morning?” Tank side-eyed her with an unreadable expression. “I can’t lie, that’s my normal MO.”
“What changed?” she asked quietly, as if she was nervous about the answer, knowing full well whatever happened between them that morning might alter a whole hell of a lot from a professed casual relationship to something more. “Something did.”
He made a small noise and paused over his food. “I like you. You challenge me. You don’t act like I shit gold because I own my business and go to the gym. And you’re different from the women I meet. I don’t know… I enjoy being with you. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Thanks for your honesty.”
“I don’t make a habit of lying.”
Chewing slowly, she looked down at her half-empty plate as she curled her fingers together in her lap. Should I tell him about the restaurant? Does he need to know? After all, neither of them were rushing to put any kind of label on their relationship. It was one night. He said he liked her. I’ve heard that before. And while the night had been phenomenal, and way overdue, she didn’t really owe him anything.
So by not saying anything about owning the bistro, it wasn’t really a lie, more of an omission. Most men were scared off by her success, and she really wasn’t interested in making this one run for the hills. Not to mention the fact that once she told him about the restaurant, there was no way of keeping her feelings about the extortion under wraps. She could barely handle not thinking about it now, let alone keeping it a secret when the assault was still fresh in her mind, and part of the reason she had sought solace in Tank the previous night.
Lena had no doubt that her bringing up the extortion would ruin the whole morning. And a man like Tank? He would feel the need to make things personal and seek some kind of vengeance on her behalf. He was that kind of guy. She couldn’t risk putting him in the line of fire for something that was going to be taken care of by the sheriff and his department. It didn’t make any sense to bring this man any further into her closed-off world.
“You went quiet.” His forehead creased in concern. “What’s going on in your pretty head?”
A smile grew on her lips as she took his hand. “Things are just a little chaotic in my life at the moment.”
He nodded, squeezing her hand back. “If you wanna talk about it, just let me know.”
“Thanks.”
Tank rose from the chair and cleared the plates from the table.
Leaning back in her chair, she beamed. “Such good service. You’re more of a gentleman than first impressions give you credit for.”
“Don’t judge a man by his cover. My mother raised me right.”
“I’ll have to send her a thank-you card.”
Finishing her coffee, she watched Tank clean up in her kitchen. His fumbling to figure out where everything went in her cabinets was endearing, and it was only when he was halfway done that she even considered helping him out.
“It took you a while to get your sweet ass over here.” He teased, nudging her with his large shoulder before taking the coffee mug from her hand.
Tank caught her around the waist and pushed her back against the island, staring down at her with an intensity that made her arousal flash hot.
“Tank…” she whispered, enjoying the feel of his name on her tongue, and the heat of his body pressed against her. “We really should get going.”
His hand curled around her neck, forcing her to look up at him as he smiled, slow and pleased, in a purely masculine way that made her toes curl.
“Not until I have you again, baby. Can you make room in your busy schedule for another round?” He sealed his question with a light, teasing kiss that left her dizzy.
“I think I can move some things to accommodate you.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said against her lips.
Desire crawled wild through her veins and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.
You’re irresistible,” he rasped.
Their tongues intertwined as he moved his hands up her legs and cupped her ass. Hauling her up against him, she locked her legs around his waist as he strode into the bedroom.
Lena
Sarah, the bistro’s day manager, stuck her head inside Lena’s office, wearing
a look that said she was at the end of her rope.
“There’s a lady trying to order two hundred pearl-dotted cupcakes for a party tomorrow. She won’t take no for an answer and insists on talking to the owner. When I told her I was the manager, she didn’t care. I’d appreciate a little help with this one. We’ve got a line down the block waiting for our croissants and cookies, so now isn’t the time for this chicanery.”
“Is that the new word of the day?” Lena asked.
“Yeah. Well, it’s technically tomorrow’s word. I had to shift the calendar because I knew today’s vocabulary word, and I don’t like resting on my laurels.”
“No one would ever accuse you of such a thing.” Lena grinned, got up from behind the desk, and took a deep breath. “Difficult customers. Just what I wanted to deal with today.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, this one is a beaut.”
Lena understood what her employee was talking about as soon as she walked into the front area of the bistro. Quinn Fitzgerald stood by one of the cases in a designer dress and shoes, tapping a pink manicured finger against the glass. This was the same woman who’d thrown herself all over Tank the night of the engagement party and dismissed Lena like she was the snob’s personal hire. A frown deepened between the woman’s brows, and Lena braced herself for the inevitable fuss the snotty woman was going to make.
“Hello, Ms. Fitzgerald. How can I help you today?”
Lena made a point to come out from behind the cases and walk toward a far corner where there were no other customers. Quinn glanced at her, shrugged, and flounced over to meet her with a pained expression, as if going over to Lena instead of her going to Quinn was way more trouble than someone from the Fitzgerald family should be subjected to in public.
The young woman gave Lena a look of disdain. “I need your pearl cupcakes for a party tomorrow, and your unaccommodating manager tried to tell me it wasn’t possible. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement here, or do I have to assume your little place is unequipped for my needs?” Quinn pursed her pink-glossed lips. “I probably shouldn’t have come to an establishment with so little fanfare, but I heard you make the best cupcakes in town.”
“With enough time, that wouldn’t be a problem at all.” Lena smiled and clasped her hands in front of her so that she didn’t act on her instinct to claw the woman’s eyes out for insulting her business. “Unfortunately, we can’t accommodate your request with so little time to order the supplies and pay for the hands needed to decorate for that kind of project in the turnaround time you’re looking for with your party. With all the parties and events you attend, you must know that.” Touché, bitch.
Quinn shifted on her towering heels and switched her designer purse from one arm to the other, giving her the once-over. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. It was as if the young woman was weighing Lena’s words and trying to find a hole in them. Well, she won’t find one. Lena had been as pleasant and professional as humanly possible to the spoiled little rich girl.
Lena watched as Quinn turned her back and gossiped with her two girlfriends behind their cupped hands. It was such a middle school move that Lena straightened her shoulders and kept a professional smile on her face. If she didn’t watch herself, she might burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Not to mention, the timing of Quinn’s visit was impeccable.
It had been two days since Tank had left her condo, leaving her with a kiss in the doorway before he walked back to the Devil’s Surfboard, where she assumed he’d parked his bike. Although he didn’t turn around to wave again as she watched him walk away, it didn’t hurt her feelings. It gave her more time to stare at his delicious ass. Even the memory heated her blood as a flood of warmth shifted beneath her cheeks. It had been practically a decade since any man had made her blush.
Inhaling deeply, she crossed her arms and shook her head, silently taking in the powwow still happening in front of her eyes.
“Ladies, I’m sorry, but if you aren’t going to buy anything, I need to go back to my office. I have a meeting with one of my suppliers.”
The fact that her meeting wasn’t for another two hours was something Quinn and her ilk didn’t need to know—so long as the excuse got them out of her restaurant.
Fitzgerald raised her chin, the high flare of her nostrils giving Lena a haughty expression. “I should’ve known this little place wouldn’t be able to accommodate me. Besides, your food at the last gathering was cold, limp, and oversalted. Hardly award-winning. I’m starting to think that maybe you’ve been building your business off the credit cards of bored businessmen who think you look hot in a dress. It’s really the only reason you have for any prior success.”
Quinn paused in her tirade to simper at Lena, her eyes narrowing with an evil glint.
“Of course, that would explain how you got the backing for this pitiful establishment. A string of sugar daddies would account for how you pay the bills.”
Her designer studded cronies laughed on command as Lena tried to gather her decorum around herself like a shield. This bitch has got to be fucking kidding. How dare she come into the restaurant, throw insults, and expect Lena to stand there and take it, as if she were beneath the bitch. She thinks I’m supposed to fawn all over her because of her name. Yeah… no fucking way.
Lena’s anger rose in a wave of heat to her neck and face. “I make my own money, Ms. Fitzgerald, I promise you. Every inch of this place was built because of my hard work, which I’m sure is something you wouldn’t understand. I mean, you’re living off your father’s money like you’re still in high school.”
She paused to let the insult sink into Quinn’s thick skull. “If you need anything else, I ask that you go to another establishment, or give my staff and me more notice before an event. At this time, we can’t help you.”
Without another word, Lena stopped the conversation cold and left, satisfied by Quinn’s shocked gasp. It was about time someone gave the spoiled brat an ego check. She had it coming, and given time, karma always came around. One less problem to worry about—and she handled it herself, which was nice given the myriad of problems she was unable to cope with at the moment. Lena barely kept the smug smile off her face as she helped out the staff with a couple of customers before heading back to her office.
“Tank…”
Lena froze in the hallway. Was that bitch…
“Yes, honey, that would be amazing.”
“Is this for real?” Lena murmured under her breath as she listened in on Quinn’s conversation.
A quick peek into the bistro proved Quinn was huddled by a pastry case, blocking a large half of the line, with her cell phone cradled against her ear. She giggled like a schoolgirl with a crush. A small fire lit in the pit of Lena’s stomach, which slowly turned into nausea as she listened to the rest of the conversation. The way Quinn was talking, it was like she and Tank were together. The idea made Lena want to throw up on the spot as she continued to listen to Quinn’s one-sided, lovey-dovey conversation.
Every second raked down her back like an animal’s sharp claws, making her skin crawl. How could I have been so stupid? So easy-going to think that a man like Tank wouldn’t have a woman in his pocket every which way he went in town. I believed his bullshit of how I was different. What a load of crap! I believed him. I let my guard down. She closed her eyes, sinking back into the wall as Quinn wrapped up her conversation with him. It sounded like they were meeting that night. Probably for dinner at Saltwater. She groaned. What a jerk!
Of course, Lena had never assumed she and Tank were exclusive. They only had one proper date, some major make-out sessions, and incredible sex. But the way he’d looked at her when they were together, and the things he’d said, led her to believe that he wasn’t seeing anyone else seriously. Or, at the very least, if he was seeing someone, that he would’ve had the decency to tell her about it.
“Honest, my ass.” Lena sucked in a breath and tried to get her bearings.
It wasn
’t the first time she’d been screwed over by a man, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But this one cut to the quick with a surprising amount of force.
It was confusing, though, when she had been getting texts from him since the afternoon he’d left her condo. He’d been nothing but sweet, attentive, and always asking after her. There was no indication that he was blowing her off, or that she’d just been an easy piece of ass to him. What man took the time to ask a girl how her day was going and send her funny memes when she was having a busy day at work if they just wanted to fuck and leave?
What had seemed so simple was now being thrown into chaos. She’d be lying if she didn’t resent the one part of her life that seemed to be going well, suddenly crumbling to the ground at her feet. It took a lot of brainpower to reconcile the man who had given her the best orgasm of her life, then cooked breakfast and cleaned her dishes with the man who would pander to a mean-spirited, spoiled little bitch like Quinn Fitzgerald.
None of it made any sense at all.
Lena fumbled for her phone in the pocket of her dress and rolled her eyes when she saw a text had come in from Tank, minutes after getting off the phone with Quinn. A sour taste rose in the back of her throat. She quickly read the sweet text, reminding her to eat, and telling her to have a good day. The jerk also asked her out for dinner the following night. The fact that he was working down the street right now made the text that much more bittersweet. What kind of game are you playing? Dinner? I don’t think so. She shoved the phone in her pocket and stalked back to her office.
Normally, she went out of her way to answer him, so if he had half a brain—something she was doubting at the moment—the fact that she didn’t respond should clue him in that something was up between them.
Which led her to the question of whether Quinn showing up was really a coincidence. There was no way that snob just happened upon her bistro with such a ridiculous demand without any provocation. Lena had a sinking feeling that there were no such coincidences in Quinn’s world, though what that meant for her relationship with Tank left her reeling. For a moment, she let herself dwell on the fact that Tank might have told Quinn about their night together, but hadn’t told Lena a thing about Quinn. That thought brought on a slew of emotions—betrayal, confusion, hurt, and foolishness.
