“What are you doing here?” Harley tilts her face to mine.
“Can you go to lunch?”
“I should be able to. Let me go grab my purse.” She tries to slide away, and I twist us back toward the door.
“You don’t need your purse.”
“My wallet, my phone,” she objects.
“I have both things.”
“What if someone needs me?”
“I can cover for you. Anything urgent I can text Ace,” Ginger offers eagerly.
I flash her an appreciative grin and rattle off my number, then guide Harley out the door.
“I’m not sure I like this pattern with you,” she huffs on the way to my truck.
“And what pattern is that?”
“Showing up unannounced, taking charge, not giving me a say.”
I chew the side of my lip to keep from smiling outright. “I asked you to go to lunch.”
“Yes, but you rushed me out, and I may need my purse and my phone.”
We get to my truck, I open her door, pick her up, and place her on the seat before planting myself in front of her. “You really irked about not having your purse?”
She glances over my shoulder, seeming to think about her answer, holding something back.
“Harley?”
“You have no clue about how this works, do you?”
“How what works?”
“Fine!” She throws her hands in the air in exasperation and looks to the sky then back to me. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but here’s how it goes. You show up, looking like you do, totally catching me off guard, and all thoughts of my shitty morning vanish. You ask me to lunch. The proper thing would be to let me run to my office and grab my things. I’d have time to freshen up, fluff my hair, and apply some lip gloss to feel a tinge better about my appearance. That’s how women work, Achilles. We like to be prepared.”
This time, I don’t hold back my grin and step further into her space, wrapping my arms around her waist and nudging my hips between her thighs. “First off, your appearance is perfect. I thought it couldn’t get much better than swimsuits and sundresses, but fuck me if the professional Harley doesn’t rock me to my core. You’re gorgeous, and fluffing the hair and freshening up isn’t necessary. As for knowing how this works, no, I don’t know how it works. I’ve never given a shit about how women think, except for you. When I left the gym this morning, I decided I wasn’t waiting until Wednesday night.”
Her expression softens, the attitude disappearing. “Is this going to become a pattern?”
“Me coming to take you to lunch? Probably, at least until my schedule transfers to days.”
“That’s good to know, but I’m referring to you storming in, taking charge, and then saying something so incredibly sweet that squashes my irritation? This is the third time in less than a week.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“So you keep saying.”
I tag her closer for a quick kiss before releasing her. She scoots out of my hold, and I go to the driver’s side.
“Is Ginger one of the women you mentioned all these years ago?”
“Yes, we started at the company the same day and clicked immediately. She’s my age, but flitted around a few years after high school trying to find direction. Then she decided to get her degree. This is her last year. We’re actually pretty close. She’s the one who introduced me to Pilates and yoga. We brought Jewls one time, but she couldn’t hack it.”
“Couldn’t hack yoga?” I side-eye her. “Seems like an impossible activity to flunk out of.”
“Let me rephrase; Jewls is more of the kickboxing while the rock music is blaring type of exercise gal.”
“That makes total sense.”
“So, Ginger and I try to meet weekly and Zen out. Usually rewarding ourselves with margaritas afterward.”
“Tell me where to go.” I indicate which direction to turn.
“There’s a terrific bistro about two blocks away. You can’t miss the blue and white umbrellas. We actually could have walked, but I’m too exhausted.”
“The exhaustion goes along with the shitty Monday?”
“The day hasn’t been bad, but my patience is thin and the normal first-of-the-week urgency is more annoying than usual. It’s partially my fault, though. I was up way too late.”
“Did Jewls stay over late?” When I left her at her apartment yesterday, Jewls was pulling into the parking lot, no doubt to grill Harley over our days together.
“Not exactly, we got called into work.”
“At Tom’s?”
“We had to work the floor because two servers are sick. With the game, it was insane. I didn’t get home until after three a.m.”
“You went to work last night—alone?” I grind out.
“I go to work every night alone.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were working. I didn’t want to bother you. Besides, why does it matter?”
Wrong thing to say. “It matters because there was no one there to watch you! What if something happened?”
She whips her head my way with fire building in her eyes. “Watch me? So, it is true? You send the guys to watch my shifts? Is that why Tom saves a seat at the bar every night I work?”
“Hell yes. I’m not taking any chances on something happening to you.”
“What can happen? I’m completely safe. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Call it what you want, but with my schedule, I can’t always be there. I hate the hours and I don’t approve.”
“You don’t approve? Tom is a family friend. His bar is a respectable establishment. You know the customers, and get something straight right now. I don’t ask your approval,” she seethes, the fire in her eyes now fierce.
Anger fills the inside of my cab, and I notice the umbrellas she mentioned. I use the ten seconds to think of how to get her to understand my point before pulling into a spot and slamming the truck into park. “That may not have come out right.”
“You think?” Her gorgeous face is now twisted and fuming.
“I’ll talk to Tom and explain that when none of us are available, you can’t—”
“I’d be very careful how you end that statement,” she warns.
“Glen Bates —”
“What about Glen? He’s a dick. I knew that before you explained your disgust with him. Any woman in her right mind can spot his type a mile away.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s guys like him. They want to fuck you. No respect for women, superficial, and have no boundaries.”
“Newsflash, Achilles, the Glen Bateses of the world have been around since I was fourteen years old. You only missed it because, in the short period you were around in high school, everyone was scared of you. When you left, I was fair game, and I suffered under the cloud of rumors because no one understood our relationship. They assumed I was the easy girl left behind. My friendship circle was small and tight because of the jealousy among the girls that couldn’t get your attention. I could go on and on, but the point is, until my date two weeks ago, I hadn’t been out with anyone in six months.
“You’ve been gone close to eleven years. A lot has changed. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman who does not need your approval or your protection. I know how to handle myself and can tell the skeezy jerks with one interaction. You will never be skeezy, but I’m questioning the jerk part.” She slings off her seatbelt, opens her door, and spears me with that raging gaze. “Someone from my office is going into the café. I’m joining her and pretending I was out for a walk. Do not follow me, do not embarrass me in front of the people I work with, and do not show up again unannounced with this attitude. If I find out you call Tom, I swear I’ll break your fingers! God! I am such an idiot.” She jumps out, giving me one last look before slamming the door so hard it shakes the truck.
It goes against every instinct I have not to chase her as she stomps away. My heart thunders in my che
st, the blood scorching my veins. You don’t have to be an expert to know I fucked that up and took it a step too far.
The last line remains in my brain because it was filled with much more than anger. It was hurt.
I hurt her… again.
“Fucking hell.” I dig my phone out, keeping my eyes on her. She’ll get her wish and I won’t follow her, but I’m also not leaving until she’s back in her office.
The first call I make is to the café, instructing them to take care of her lunch. The second call is to the person that will undoubtedly piss her off beyond belief.
If I can’t call Tom, I’ll settle for the next best thing. Her dad.
8
Harley
“I don’t know what happened. She came in this way,” Jewls fake-whispers.
“Well, you need to figure it out real quick. Last night, she was walking on cloud nine, spreading a fucking glittery glow everywhere. Tonight, she’s scaring my customers. Dressed like that, I’d expect a packed bar, not a dead zone,” Tom advises grumpily.
“Maybe it’s a bad day at work.”
“You’ve got five minutes before I get involved.”
“I can hear you. I’m pissed, not deaf,” I snap, sneering at them. “Stop talking like I’m not here.”
“Maybe you should put the knife down and step away from the lemon,” Jewls suggests, pointing at the cutting board.
“Maybe you two should mind your business and go back to work.”
“I’d love to, but our bar is a desert.”
I scan the circle of the bar, and not one stool is filled. Then I glance at my watch and notice the happy hour rush is usually in full swing. “The Monday after a game is usually slow,” I offer, knowing it’s a lie.
“Bullshit. Maybe it’s the tortured, resting bitch face or the ‘don’t get near me or I’ll shank you with my knife’ vibe you’re emanating,” Jewls snips.
“Don’t be dramatic. I’m tired and had a bad day.”
“My guess is this isn’t about a bad day. This has lover’s quarrel written all over it. Ace know you’re dressed like that?” Tom refers to the same too tight shirt of Jewls’ I borrowed last week paired with black leggings with slashes throughout the leg showing plenty of skin.
I slam the knife down and pivot to face Tom. “No, Ace doesn’t know I’m dressed like this because it’s none of his business. Like my working here is none of his business. And this is NOT a lover’s quarrel in any way, shape, or form!”
My outburst doesn’t faze him, and he has the nerve to grin knowingly. “Uh-huh.” He slides behind Jewls, going toward the storage room, calling over his shoulder, “I’m bringing the stock up tonight. I want to see some asses in those seats when I return.”
I swallow down my frustration and switch my glare to Jewls, who’s staring at me curiously. “What’d he do?”
I think about giving her an excuse, but know I’ll end up spilling my guts eventually, so I fill her in on the morning and the exchange in his truck. She listens keenly, and when I’m done, instead of showing signs of sympathy, her eyes light with amusement.
“You think this is funny?”
“Not exactly. This happened a lot quicker than I suspected.”
“What does that mean?”
“Yesterday was all unicorns and flowers—literally. You were walking on cloud nine. Lunches, dinners, falling asleep on sofas, and waking up to the man of your dreams. Breakfast with Erik, doing laundry, watching TV… You jumped from not talking for years to making out like teenagers at lightning speed. You skipped a lot of details, and I knew reality would hit at some point.”
“I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this.”
“You shouldn’t because the truth stings, but from what you told me about his showing up on Saturday morning until he left yesterday, don’t you think you avoided some major subjects?”
“What’s wrong with living in the moment? Enjoying what was happening? It’s called new beginnings.”
“Yeah, babe. New beginnings are the fun parts. The giddy, butterfly swarming, hand-holding, stealing-a-kiss type bliss moments.”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“There’s not if you were experiencing them with a stranger or a man more like the chump you went out with a few weeks ago. You and Ace have a long history, most of that with you being head over ass in love with him.”
“I don’t think I want to discuss this anymore with you.”
“Sure you don’t, but straight up, you and he are different people, and anyone that has knowledge of this song and dance knows it will work out. What you’re ignoring is that the decade isn’t water under the bridge. Accept each other as you are today.”
“I’ve always accepted him as he is.”
“Yes, but you are a different person. He’s got to deal with the bombshell, grown-up version of the girl he left behind. He’s got to find his place in your world, and thank God you stood up for yourself today.”
“Wasn’t it immature to stomp away and slam his door?”
“Maybe, but you sent a message. Achilles grew up in shit. He went into the Marines and saw things we only hear about, and continues his life in public service. He’s rough, gritty, and self-deprecating.”
“You don’t know him like I do. He’s deep, thoughtful, loving, and selfless. He fought for his mom, he fought for this country, and now he’s building a career around protecting his community. He may be rough, but to me, it’s everything,” I defend, my anger shifting toward her.
She flashes her perceptive smile and walks forward, grabbing my face and smacking a loud kiss on my forehead. “That’s exactly right, Jay. He’s your everything. Make sure to keep your spunk while taming his beast.”
Her words penetrate deep, and I know she played me a bit. “Sometimes I hate you took all those psychology classes.”
“Being a Social Worker requires a lot of mental adaptabilities. I swear to God, as your best friend, he will figure it out along with you. But know you probably can’t change his possessive tendencies. There’s bound to be a few clashes along the way.”
“You think it’s real this time?” I almost whisper.
“It’s the most real thing I’ve ever witnessed. If we had last night alone, I could have been a little more thorough in my delivery. But don’t become submissive to him. This isn’t even close to being over with him. Have your spat, stand your ground, and be strong. Don’t lose yourself.”
“My barstools are still empty.” Tom appears balancing two boxes, eyeing me carefully.
“I have faith they’ll fill up soon.” I send an apologetic grin.
“Good,” he replies brusquely, “get to work.”
“You know, Tom, maybe you should consider implementing a ladies’ night.” I try to lighten the mood.
“Why the hell would I do that? Ladies’ nights come with too many headaches. I have enough headaches with you two.”
“I take offense to that. What have I done?” Jewls scoffs.
“Give it time. It’s only Monday.”
“If I remember correctly, we both gave up our Sunday nights to help you out. I’m due to have a bad day once in a while without you accusing me of being a headache.” I cock an eyebrow.
“I know all about your damn bad day. Six foot six, powerhouse of muscle, that looks like he’ll rip someone apart if they glance your way.”
I want to argue that he’s exaggerating, but today is proof Achilles has an overprotective streak that I never knew about. “Moving on.” I unpack the bottles from the boxes.
“Hey.” He lays a hand on my arm, his tone softer. “I’ve known you since you were a kid and watched you grow up. I’m not blind. Jewls is right. Stand your ground, but don’t write him off. That boy has a lot to work through.”
It’s almost hilarious to hear him refer to Achilles as a boy, but I bite my tongue and nod. Thankfully, a group of men walks in, heading directly to the bar. Glen’s in the group, and his eyes go straight t
o my chest when he gets closer.
“Pissant,” Tom growls, aiming his snarl at Glen, then steals the bottle out of my hand and takes it to the far drink station.
Guess that’s the end of his unconventional wisdom.
Tom calling Glen a Pissant is too kind. Something comes over me, and I smile openly, ready for anything that he throws my way.
Because tonight is not the night to piss me off.
I’m at your door.
I snatch my phone off the counter and stare at the message in horror.
“Shit!” I scream, grabbing a handful of bobby pins. Once my hair is secure in a bun, I apply minimal make-up and slide my maxi dress over my head.
It’s been two days since my argument with Achilles, and I’ve spent the time miserable but determined.
Yesterday, I broke down and called my mom at lunch, hoping that hearing her voice would help. The second she answered, it was obvious she was waiting for the call. It took little coaxing for me to unload what was on my mind. She listened to what happened patiently and reiterated what Jewls and Tom said, but told me to go gentle on him.
It was my decision to keep some distance from Achilles. He hasn’t called, and his few texts have been generic, asking how I am. Which always gets him the same response.
I’m fine.
I questioned this every second of every day. But it was important for me to figure out exactly what to say. Then the self-doubt crept in. The one scenario no one mentioned was the one that scared me the most. Achilles has always been low-key and no-nonsense. What if my tantrum turned him off? Regardless of his macho-man attitude, my departure from his truck was overly dramatic.
And maybe a little mortifying.
I run through my apartment and cringe at the blankets and pillow balled up on the sofa. “Shit!” I cuss again.
“Take your time. I’ll wait for as long as it takes,” his gravelly voice calls through the door.
Speed King (Men of Action) Page 8
