Wagering Home

by C. M. Boers

  Jack snatched the phone from my hand and held it to his ear. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we won’t be needing that truck after all. Have a great evening.” He pressed a button to end the call and set it down on the desk.

  “Why did you do that?” I protested.

  “Because you don’t need your car towed.”

  I planted my hand on my hip but immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through my ribcage. I leaned over and grabbed my aching side. “H-how am I going to get my car driving then?” I breathed in and out slowly.

  Jack’s eyes traveled to my hand and back to my eyes. “It’s just a dead battery. We’ll go get a new one, and it’ll be just fine . . . are you all right?”

  “What?” I breathed.

  He pointed to my hunched over posture and my hand on my ribs.

  “Oh, I’m fine, just a stitch.” I stood straight, quickly biting back the ache that grew with standing. “So it’s just a battery, you think?”

  “I know. Probably one of the easiest fixes.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to do that, so I still need the tow truck.” I reached for my phone.

  He batted it out of my hand. “Stop.”

  “What? I can’t ask you to keep doing all these things for me. It’s bad enough I took up your time last night and this morning.”

  “I’m glad to do it.”

  “You know how to change it?”

  He pursed his lips.

  I eyed him, considering my options. Sitting here to wait for a tow truck and dealing with a shop, or going with Jack to the store, coming back, and leaving with a running car. The latter seemed like the better option despite it being a terrible idea to spend extra time with him.

  “Okay,” I relented.

  “Give me five minutes.” He strode back into his office.

  The minute he left my view, I sunk into the chair and breathed through the pain, clutching my side until finally it subsided.

  It had been a while since I’d felt any pain in my ribs. They ached sometimes, but nothing like that. Something about the way I’d popped my hip out didn’t sit well. I’d have to remember not to do that again. I never wanted to recreate that pain, especially like that. I almost had to tell Jack something. He was going to wonder more and more about why I had all these weird injuries.

  But I wasn’t ready to go there. Not with him. He didn’t need to know. He’s my boss, after all, no matter how much my mind thought about him as anything but. I couldn’t let things go there.

  Could I?

  The possibility of moving on in my own way excited me, in a way I could never remember feeling. Though, I was sure at some point I had, maybe for Jeremy.

  Minutes later, he made his way out, and I followed him, just like the night before.

  Silence fell between us as Jack maneuvered his car onto the street. I had no idea where we were going. I couldn’t even picture an auto parts store I’d seen since moving here. But it wasn’t a parts store he turned into and parked. It was a tiny Italian restaurant that looked no bigger than my house.

  “I thought we were getting a battery?”

  “We are . . . after we eat.” He shut off the car and turned towards me, smiling a huge, toothy grin.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Somehow I get the feeling you planned this.”

  “What? How could I plan your battery going out? Nah . . . but I may have hoped.” With that, he hopped out and waited at the curb for me to follow.

  I couldn’t stop my lips from curving upwards, though I tried my best to hide it from him.

  Stepping through the door made my stomach flop, and my nerves ignited. The romantic atmosphere was made for couples.

  Once we were seated and our orders taken, the silence set in, making me squirm. I didn’t feel comfortable looking right at him, yet looking anywhere around the room, seeing the other couples, made my stomach flop, so I settled for staring at my water glass and the way it made the objects beyond it larger.

  Then we made eye contact.

  I felt it within my core, like he was looking deep into my soul. It was too much. Too soon. I blushed, pulling my eyes away again. Though now it seemed flirty, and I hated myself for it.

  “Mommy’s girl, or Daddy’s girl?” he asked.

  My brows furrowed. “What?” What kind of question was that?

  “Growing up, were you a Mommy’s girl or a Daddy’s girl?”

  “Ah . . .” How did one answer that without memories from their childhood? I honestly didn’t have a clue. I thought of the climate in the house after my accident, the constant hovering from my mom, and then the sweet side of my dad. I’d have to guess. I mean, it didn’t really matter that much, did it? “Daddy’s girl.” I gulped as the words came out.

  Was it really a lie if you didn’t know the correct answer? Probably.

  “I suspected that.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know . . . the way you present yourself, I guess. Proud. Not willing to accept help easily.”

  Was he right? I thought of my actions to avoid getting closer to him, and I supposed some could be construed that way; however, maybe part of it was something else entirely. Something deep-seated inside me. Something I hadn’t even realized was a driving force—the need to do things on my own. But wasn’t that why I was here in the first place?

  Ugh. Such a simple question, wound with so much doubt and confusion.

  “It’s not an insult,” Jack said when I still said nothing more.

  “Oh. Of course not.”

  He nodded. “What about your favorite food? That might be a safer topic.” He grinned, showing he noticed my hesitancy.

  “Mexican.”

  “Really? I know a really good place. It’s kind of a hole-in-the-wall, but there aren’t many Mexican restaurants around here, and even fewer good ones. I’ll have to take you there sometime.”

  “I’d like that.” And then I realized it sounded like I’d just agreed to a second date. I bit my cheek when my heart betrayed me and skipped a beat at the thought. Stop . . . “What’s yours?”

  “Barbecue. Basically, anything made on a grill. Steak, burgers, chicken, I love it all.”

  “Yum.”

  “I do make some mean steaks.” He licked his lips.

  I bit mine, watching his tongue slowly glide across his, and my breath hitched. I shook my head and shoulders, trying to snap myself out of it.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yep . . . fine. Just got . . . a chill.”

  “Are you cold?” He made a move to get up. “I have a sweater in the car . . .”

  “No, no. I’m fine.”

  He settled his napkin back in his lap as our food was placed in front of us.

  “I’ve got one for you.”

  “Let’s hear it.” He pushed a forkful of steaming lasagna into his mouth and breathed between his teeth. “Hot.”

  I giggled, chirpy and high-pitched. Where did that come from? I was beginning to sound like a teenage girl on her first date.

  “Phew, that was a lot hotter than I thought it was. Sorry, what did you want to know?”

  “Where have you traveled?”

  “Ever?” he asked, his eyes wide.

  I nodded, leaning over to take a bite.

  “And we aren’t counting just passing through, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good, I doubt I could even name all those. Let’s see, in the U.S., I’ve been to New York, Florida, Texas, Alabama, Arizona, California, Washington, oh, and Maine. There’s probably some I’m forgetting.” He stared at the ceiling as if he was thinking through them all.

  “And you’ve been out of the country?” I asked.

  “Mexico, Canada, and Ireland.”

  “Wow, you’ve been all over.”

  “My favorite was Ireland. It was so beautiful there. I can’t wait to go back. Have you been?”

  “Ah . . .” No? Yes? Have I? Where have I been? Knowing the little I did about my
parents and the few pictures of us in different places, I was certain we’d traveled. But I had no clue where.

  My cheeks heated as the seconds passed without an answer. His gaze fell on me, and only the sound of my uneven breathing and blood coursing through my veins filled my ears. “Will you excuse me?”

  I fled so fast, I didn’t even catch his response. A rush of emotion came over me. Tears burned my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard I tried. A couple tears escaped before I made it to the security of the bathroom. I hovered over the sink, bracing myself on the counter.

  I wanted to know where I’d been. But more than anything, I wanted to feel normal again. To be able to go out on a date and be able to tell someone about myself. Except that wasn’t reality for me. My memories only included the last few months, and that wasn’t a lot to go on.

  I wanted this with Jack. I was beginning to feel things I couldn’t stop. How could I already want this hypothetical future so badly, it brought tears to my eyes?

  I glared at myself in the mirror. Tear-streaked redness had already begun to fade. Who would want to get involved with this mess anyway? They’d have to be crazy.

  I gave my cheeks a quick slap, reddening them to match the rest of my blotchy skin, and ventured back out into the dimly lit dining room.

  “This is a really cute place.”

  “It is.” He eyed me a little too closely for comfort. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, and then it was gone again. “The couple that own it were married here . . . shoot . . . probably around fifty years ago, when it was a reception hall. But then the place went belly-up, and they knew they had to buy it. They opened this place with the last of their money. She used all her great-grandmother’s recipes from back in Italy.”

  “Wow, that’s incredible. Do they still run it?”

  He shook his head. “Their kids. Though I still see them in here every now and then.”

  “I hope to meet them someday.”

  He reached over and covered my hand with his. My breath hitched in my throat at the sensation of his skin on mine. I stared up into his eyes, and the burning heat in them made me falter, forgetting everything else for just that moment.

  A crash of plates rang out through the restaurant. I yanked my hand back and looked around. It was all I needed to bring me back to my senses. Though, immediately, I wished it hadn’t.

  “We should go.” I hopped up from the table.

  Jack nodded and stood, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

  I followed him through the restaurant, feeling pangs of regret that the small moment we had was over. I fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand.

  While Jack paid at the counter, the waitress came over and handed him a bag. “Dessert to go.”

  Jack grinned at her and kissed her cheek. “You’re too kind.”

  She smiled back, nodded to me, and was off again, taking care of another table.

  “What was that about?” Jealousy spiked within me, even though I had no right to those feelings. I had no claim here. All I had was wanting and hope. Hope I could find a new job, because these feelings were running rampant, and there was no stopping them now.

  “Standing order.”

  I looked at him.

  “Come on.” He waited until he was behind the wheel to finish talking. “A few years ago, around the time I moved here, I stumbled upon this place. I’d finished college, and I’d already had a lot of experience with investments and financial endeavors through my parents. Somehow, I got to talking with the owners who, at the time, were struggling to stay afloat and had been for a while. They were facing the choice to close or sell. I helped them turn it around, and ever since, they have a standing order for take-home dessert on the house.”

  Totally not what I expected. Words didn’t come, and the car stayed quiet as he backed out of the spot.

  “It’s kind of crazy, really. Even the newbies who don’t know me always seem to know. It’s like they have a picture of me or something in the kitchen.”

  I laughed. “That’s so funny.”

  “I know.” He grinned. “But you’ll never find a better cannoli, so I’ll never complain.”

  Once we were back at my car, new battery in tow, Jack set straight to work. At one point, he wiped his brow with the shoulder of his Oxford shirt, and his eyes found mine. He didn’t smile or even make a face. The serenity behind his eyes made me long to reach out and touch him, for him to pull me into his arms with those very able hands that worked their magic under my hood.

  He stood up suddenly and pressed the hood down. The loud slam startled me.

  “All done.” He tossed me the keys. “Why don’t you give it a try?” He held up his greasy hands for me to see.

  I made a face and moved to the driver’s seat.

  The engine turned over the first time.

  “Yes!” I spoke under my breath, shut it off, and climbed out. “What a relief. Thank you so much!”

  “No problem.” He turned and started walking to the building.

  The urge to follow propelled my feet forward after him.

  “You’ll have to let me pay you for your time,” I called after him.

  “Not a chance.” He pulled a card from his pocket, held it up to the door, and it unlocked.

  He held the door open wide with just his wrist to minimize the grease transfer. The office was dark, like walking into a cave. The door shut behind us, and I made my way in the miniscule light cast out by the emergency exit signs to the light switch. I reached for the switch, but my hand found warm flesh.

  Jack had beat me there. We froze, my hand resting on his arm.

  His breath was on my face, and I could just make out the outline of his features that hovered above mine. My free hand came to rest on his chest, and I could feel the rise and fall as his breaths came, rough and even.

  My lips parted. Without a single thought, I was kissing him. My body responded in ways I couldn’t remember feeling. His lips were so soft, so inviting. My heart soared to feel him as I yearned to for weeks despite my drive to deny myself this one glorious moment.

  And then my thoughts came back to me, nagging me. I pulled away, looking him in the eyes. The fear that I’d just royally screwed up filled my stomach.

  My eyes fell to my hands, which were gripping his shirt, as if I might fall the second I let go.

  I released him and backed away.

  “I’m so . . .” I whispered.

  I couldn’t finish. Jack took a step forward, and his arms went around me as he pulled me against him. He pressed his lips to mine with such intensity, it took my breath away.

  My arms wrapped around his neck, and I rose up on my toes to meet him. One of his hands roamed up my back and pushed into my hair, cupping the back of my head gently. He backed me up further, pressing me against my desk.

  I was panting when he pulled away.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you in the coffeehouse,” he breathed. “And to think you’ve been right under my nose this whole time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My head swam in all that was right and all that was so very wrong. We were in the office, for goodness sake. He was my boss. Not to mention he had no idea what kind of baggage I carried with me.

  I searched for something to say. Anything. Yet words failed me.

  He leaned down with a smirk on his face and brushed his lips against mine once more. Then he flipped on the light.

  He pursed his lips. “I may have gotten a little grease on you . . .”

  My eyes averted his and checked my arm where he’d gripped me.

  “I’m thinking it’s in other places as well . . .” His eyes flickered to my hair and then to the floor. “I should go clean up.”

  I watched him walk away to the bathroom, until the door shut, snapping me from my trance.

  What had I done?

  I’d just crossed the line I’d drawn, like it never existed. And now, I had no idea how to handle th
is. My mind spun, and my heart raced still from the spark he’d incited inside me.

  I had to get out of here.

  I pulled two twenties from my wallet, jotted a quick apology and thank you, and left them under a rock in front of the front door. Maybe it wasn’t the best approach, but it was all I had.

  I hightailed it to my car. The urge to both hide in a cave and leap for joy overwhelmed me. His touch electrified me unlike anything I could have ever imagined. So alive and guilty. Guilty like a dog sneaking food off your plate, I knew I shouldn’t go there; however, the temptation had been too great. And now I was running away.

  What on Earth was I going to do now? The thought of going to work tomorrow felt stifling.

  As soon as I got home, paying no attention to the time, I called Grace.

  Regardless of her boy-crazed antics, I knew she would be able to make me feel better and maybe even come up with some great fix to this mess that she helped create. After all, if she hadn’t orchestrated our little mini date over the weekend, my feelings for him would never have been so hard to deny. I mean, his looks were amazing and enough to make any girl blush, but I’d like to think I’d have a bit more control over myself.

  “What’s up? You’re up late. Don’t working people go to bed early?” Grace’s voice flooded my ear.

  “Not tonight they don’t, and for what it’s worth, there may not be any sleep in store for me tonight.”

  “Whoa, what did I start? You partying without me?” I could hear her giggling in the background.

  “I kissed Jack.”

  Her giggles stopped. “Jack, the guy I introduced you to at the club?”

  “The very one. Who, by the way, also happens to be my boss.”

  “Wait, what? I thought Cindy was your boss?”

  “Well, she’s the one that hired me, and she’s who I see all day while my boss has been cooped up in his office. Or not . . . turns out, he has his own private exit.”

  “That is weird.”

  “He didn’t want people to know who he was.”

  “Why?”

  “Same reason I made you swear not to tell anyone about my trust.”

  “Wait, so he’s rich?”

  “I guess. I mean, he owns the company I work for.”

  “Wow. So, back to the kiss. How was it?”