How Much I Feel

by Force, Marie

  “Liar.” He tips the chair back, balancing precariously. “Tell me what made you frown and furrow.”

  Is it hot in here, or is it me? “I was just wondering what’s taking them so long to confirm the car is yours.”

  “They probably had to track down the impound guy.”

  “Are you going to have to pay again to get it out of there?”

  “Probably.”

  And my debt to him just doubled since I’m the one who got the car impounded in the first place.

  I flop into a chair across the table from him. “I’m really sorry about all of this. When Mr. Augustino told me to babysit you, I don’t think he meant for me to do it in jail.”

  “He used the word babysit?”

  I squirm under the heat of his glare. “Maybe?”

  “That’s just great. Glad I’ve spent my whole life in school so I could be babysat at my new job.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I let myself get sucked in by a woman—literally—for the first time in my life, and I’ll be paying for that mistake forever.”

  “Not necessarily.” The visual of him being literally “sucked in by a woman” has me breaking into a sweat. I feel betrayed by myself. Why do I have to be attracted to him, the subject of my first assignment at the job I busted my ass for years to get?

  The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve been moving through life in a grief-fueled fog for five years, and the first time I feel something for another man, it has to be this man. My friends and family have been trying for a while now to find me someone new. Only a few of the many first dates they’ve arranged for me have led to a second, which has frustrated matchmakers determined to see me happy again.

  They’d be thrilled to know that Dr. Jason Northrup makes my scalp, and other more important parts, tingle with awareness. But with my new boss determined to keep Jason and his scandal far from the hospital where I now work, he’s the last man in the world my nipples should be interested in.

  Try telling them that.

  I cross my arms, hoping he won’t see what’s going on under my clothes. That’s not something he needs to know. Besides, I’m sure it’s just a fluke. He’s a handsome, charismatic brain surgeon, for crying out loud. Any heterosexual woman with a pulse would react to him.

  I’d like to think I’m not “typical,” in the sense that I don’t freak out about stuff that sends my friends and cousins into a tizzy. For instance, Justin Bieber once came into the restaurant with an entourage, and everyone else went dumb in the head while I waited on them.

  Biebs puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. I had absolutely no reaction whatsoever to a man whom other women throw panties at when he’s onstage. Was it fun to meet him? Sure. Not to mention he left a massive tip that came in handy when it was time to put down the damage deposit on my new apartment.

  “Now what’re you thinking about?”

  “Am I frowning and furrowing again?”

  “Sort of.”

  “I’m thinking of the time I met Justin Bieber, actually.” He also doesn’t need to know I’m thinking of the Biebs in the context of having no reaction at all to him while Jason makes my nipples hard. Why is that exactly?

  “What was that like?”

  I shrug. “Nothing special. He came into my family’s restaurant with a group of people. I waited on them while everyone else had a nuclear meltdown.”

  “I can picture you all calm, cool and collected while everyone else freaked out.”

  “I don’t go crazy over famous people. I’ve been meeting them all my life.”

  “Is that right?”

  Nodding, I get up to stretch and then sit on the table next to him. “Giordino’s is very well known around here. People come from all over to eat there. Gloria Estefan and her husband celebrate their anniversary there every year. JLo comes in whenever she’s in town. George Clooney and his parents were in last year.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. Has it always been in your family?”

  “My father’s Italian parents opened the restaurant when they first moved to South Florida from the Bronx in the fifties. Cubans moved into the neighborhood that became known as Little Havana in the sixties. Then my parents met and fell in love, and when they eloped, my father brought my mother into the business and insisted on making her part of it. From there, it’s evolved into one side Cuban and one side Italian, with my grandmothers hosting their sides of the house. They bicker like crazy, and people come from all over to see their show.”

  “So they don’t get along?”

  “Actually, they’re the best of friends behind the scenes, but you’d never know it. Their public persona is very comical. They say it’s good for business, and they’re right.”

  “That’s amazing. I love it. I can’t wait to see them in action.”

  I try to picture him amid the chaos at Giordino’s. “The only way you can come there with me is if you’re planning to marry me.”

  CHAPTER 6

  JASON

  I stare at her, shocked and unreasonably aroused by everything she says and does. “Marry you?”

  She laughs at my reaction. “You have to know my grandmothers. They’ve been trying to find someone new for me since about two years after Tony died. If I bring you there, they’ll pounce on you like the fresh meat you are and call in the priest before the main course is served.”

  “Whoa.”

  “I know, which is why I can’t take you anywhere near them unless you’re prepared to say ‘I do.’”

  I know she’s exaggerating, to a point, which is probably what spurs me to throw gas on the fire that’s been simmering between us all day. “What if I’m not afraid of them?”

  She lets out an inelegant snort. “Spoken like someone who’s never met them or seen what they’re capable of.”

  “Eh,” I say, waving a hand. “After what I’ve been through, what can a couple of grandmothers do to me?”

  Carmen stares at me with dark-brown eyes fringed with extravagant lashes that other women would kill for. Her flawless skin is a lovely golden brown, and her lips are what take her face from pretty to stunning. I’ve never seen a more kissable mouth in my entire life, not to mention she’s curvy and lush and smells so good it’s all I can do not to bury my face in her hair and breathe her in. “You haven’t the first clue what you’re talking about.”

  I’m well aware that I have absolutely no business categorizing Carmen Giordino’s many attractive attributes. I’m in enough trouble as it is without having salacious thoughts about the young woman who’s trying to help dig me out of the hellhole I’ve fallen into since I found out what Ginger really wanted with me.

  “You’d protect me, wouldn’t you?”

  Before she can answer, the officer who brought us to this room returns. “You’re both free to go. The impound lot found the registration to the Porsche. Might be a good idea to keep that handy going forward. We had to wake up the guy who runs the impound, which is why it took so long.” To Carmen, he adds, “Sorry to keep you waiting. We asked him to wait for you so you can get the car tonight. He, um, wouldn’t waive the fee, though. We tried.”

  “Thanks for trying,” Carmen says.

  Great. Another six hundred bucks out the window. Good thing I work so much that I hardly ever spend any money. The Porsche is my one major indulgence. My apartment in New York is a studio because I’m hardly ever there. I gesture for Carmen to lead the way out of the interrogation room.

  The officer escorts us to the main door and sees us out.

  We head in the direction of the impound lot.

  “I’m having déjà vu.”

  Carmen laughs. “I know. Me too. I really am sorry about all of this. I should’ve just called an Uber for Betty.”

  “What fun would that’ve been?”

  “Ah, well, I wouldn’t have done two stints in the slammer today.”

  “You’ll be dining out o
n this story for the rest of your life.”

  “No, I won’t! I don’t want anyone to know I was in jail. My God, my parents and grandmothers would die if they knew.”

  “It was all a misunderstanding—both times. If you tell them that—”

  “It’s jail, Jason. I can’t tell them.”

  Something about her prim-and-proper tone turns me on like crazy, even as I tell myself to knock it off. I love that she’s such a good girl, that she’s never been in any kind of trouble before today.

  We arrive at the impound lot, where the grumpy owner is waiting for us. “I think you should waive the fee since you forgot to give me back the registration the first time.”

  “Is that what you think, pretty boy?” He’s a scary-looking dude with huge muscles and a tattoo on his face.

  I meet his gaze and refuse to blink. “That’s what I think.”

  “You should’ve asked for your registration when you picked it up before.”

  “Why would I assume you’d take the registration out of the car when you impounded it?”

  “Look, it’s one o’clock in the morning. I want to go home. I can either give you your car or keep it. Up to you.”

  I can’t take the chance that this is going to get ugly or physical. I’d never risk damaging my hands for six hundred bucks, and I won’t put Carmen in the middle of something like that, either. I hand him my American Express card. Again.

  He takes it, runs it and hands me the receipt to sign.

  “Be right back.”

  “It’s total bullshit,” Carmen says when we’re alone.

  “Not worth fighting over. That’s for sure.”

  “Now I owe you twelve hundred bucks.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  We continue to bicker back and forth about the money until the Porsche comes to a skidding halt outside the office.

  Grumpy is grinning from ear to ear. “This thing is sweet.”

  I ignore him and get in the driver’s side while Carmen jumps into the passenger seat. I hit the gas and spew gravel at him as we leave the yard. I hope some of it hits him.

  “Seriously, I will pay you back.”

  “You’re helping to repair my image. That’s more than enough repayment.”

  I pull up to her apartment building at just after one thirty.

  “I’m going to be a wreck tomorrow,” Carmen says, yawning.

  “I’ll walk you up.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s late. Go get some sleep.”

  She fumbles with the door handle, so I reach across her to help. The press of my arm against her abdomen sets off another one of those fireworks shows that’ve been happening inside me since the first time I saw her. Was that really only twenty or so hours ago?

  “I’ve got it.”

  I retreat from her, but I wish I didn’t have to. That’s not a thought that someone sitting in my boat ought to be having about any woman. “Check in with me tomorrow?” Part of me is afraid I’ll never hear from her again after this disastrous day. Just when I think things can’t get worse, I cause an innocent young woman to end up in jail twice in one day.

  “I will. I’ve got a few ideas we can get going on.”

  “I’m ready when you are. I have an appointment with a Realtor to look at condos. I should probably keep that in case I get to stay.”

  “I can help with that, too.”

  “Perfect.”

  “It’s the least I can do after costing you more than a thousand dollars in one day.”

  “Not your fault. Go to bed, Carmen. Have sweet dreams about something other than jail.”

  “Too soon, Jason. Far too soon.”

  She leaves me laughing as she gets out of the car and walks inside. I wait to make sure she’s safely in before I take off, heading for the hotel the hospital put me up in.

  Before bed, I make the mistake of checking my email and find a message from Mr. Augustino asking me to refrain from stepping foot onto the hospital campus until the board has time to review my situation.

  Awesome.

  I want to throw the phone across the room. I’d do it except for the hassle it would be to replace it. I’ve got enough hassles in my life right now.

  I really hope Carmen can help me, because the way things are looking now, I’m totally fucked if she can’t.

  CARMEN

  I dream of jail. I blame Jason for putting that idea in my head. Despite the rough night, I’m determined to make my second day on the job less eventful than the first one. With that in mind, I’m at my desk by eight thirty with a cortadito, otherwise known as Cuban coffee, from my girl Juanita’s ventanita. I’m counting on it to clear the cobwebs from my sleep-deprived brain.

  Mornings aren’t my thing, even when I have a full night of sleep.

  Jason texted to tell me what Mr. Augustino said about staying away from the hospital until the board comes to a decision. I can tell that has him more dejected than he was last night. That fires my determination to help him, though I still think he should be hiring crisis communication experts.

  Mona arrives shortly after I do and comes to my door. “Did you go out with Dr. Northrup last night?” The question is asked with a girlfriend giggle that reminds me of nails on a chalkboard.

  “We had a business dinner.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I don’t do gossip, Mona, and I don’t appreciate when others do, either, especially at work.”

  As if I didn’t say anything, she comes into my office and sits. “Have you heard about him? About what happened in New York?”

  “Yes, he told me about how he was set up by a woman who wanted out of a bad marriage and how the career he’s worked toward for more than a decade is in jeopardy because of what she did.”

  That seems to take some of the air out of her sails. “She set him up?”

  I’m not sure he’d want me sharing this with her, but we’re going to have to tell his side of the story if we’re to put his career back on track. “She used him shamelessly to advance her own agenda and broke his heart in the process.”

  “Why hasn’t he said so?”

  “Because she has children, and he doesn’t want to drag them through their mother’s mess.”

  “Huh.”

  “You can’t believe everything you see and hear, Mona. There’re always two sides to a story.” Why do I feel as if I’m the older of the two of us when she has decades on me?

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “He’s trying to repair his reputation so he’ll be offered privileges here.”

  “How does he plan to do that?” Mr. Augustino asks from the doorway, startling us both.

  Crap.

  Mona, that rat, gets up and hightails it out of there.

  Mr. Augustino comes in, shuts the door and takes a seat in my visitor chair. I figure he’s in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching goatee. He’s immaculately dressed in a navy pin-striped suit with a light-blue pocket square that complements his tie.

  I’m hit with a serious case of nerves. The hospital president is in my office. I have no idea how to play this. Does he want Jason, er, Dr. Northrup, to redeem himself, or is he opposed to the idea?

  I decide to go with the truth. “You should know there’s another side to the story of what happened in New York.”

  “Dr. Northrup told me that and indicated he’s unwilling to go public with his side because the woman in question has children.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve passed the information along to the board.”

  “Oh. You did?”

  Mr. Augustino nods. “I’m not looking to further damage the man’s career, Ms. Giordino. He’s a world-class physician. I’ve felt all along that we’d be lucky to have him—and his very promising research—on our medical staff. That said, I do understand the board’s hesitation in light of the scandal in New York and the lack of candor about that at the outset.”


  “I have some ideas of things we can do to help restore his reputation.”

  “Such as?”

  “My cousin works as a nurse at the Our Lady of Charity free clinic in Little Havana. Their doctor was injured in an accident, which has left them shorthanded. Dr. Northrup might be able to fill in while their doctor is out on medical leave. For free, of course.”

  “And he’s willing to do this?”

  “Provided he has insurance coverage. He’s checking on that today.”

  Mr. Augustino tilts his head and gives me an odd look. “So you’ve already discussed this possibility with Dr. Northrup?”

  Dammit. I’ve painted myself into a tight corner. “Yes, sir. I offered to help him with his situation. On my own time, of course.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I, um, he helped me with something yesterday, and I owe him a favor.” Please don’t ask what, please don’t ask what . . .

  “What did he help you with?”

  I think fast. “He asked me to take care of getting him an employee parking space, which turned out to be more complicated than I anticipated. When he came to assist me, we got to talking about what brought him to Miami. One thing led to another, and I offered to help him to thank him for helping me.” God, I hope he believes me.

  He mulls that over for what feels like a full five minutes, even though it’s probably only thirty seconds. It’s long enough to send me into full-blown deodorant failure. “I like the idea of a PR campaign to redeem his image. That could be very effective in convincing the board to give him a chance to work here, which is my ultimate goal. If his research pays off the way we think it will, that could be a huge coup for us.”

  He looks me in the eye. “I want you on this project full-time for the next two weeks, with a report to me at the end of each day on what’s being done. The more you can document through photos and videos, the better. We can put together a presentation for the board that shows him embracing his new community. I really like this idea. Good work, Ms. Giordino.”

  “Oh, um, thank you.” It’s all I can do to refrain from giggling like a deranged lunatic. If only he knew the full story. But thank you, Jesus, he doesn’t and hopefully never will. “What about covering the department while I’m out?”