“Mmm-hmm.” I take another fortifying gulp of wine.
This is good. An entrepreneur. A hard worker. I like that. “What is it again that your company does?” I ask him.
Terry mumbles something but I don’t catch it because when I glance back toward the bar, Jude is gone. And instantly, a part of me starts seeking him out. I bet he took one look at his mysterious date—whoever she is—and the two of them decided to skip dinner and go straight for ‘dessert’.
As if that’s any of my business. I’m on a date. With Terry. Average height. Average weight. Average looks.
He’s a bit on the nerdy side but it’s a cute look, I guess. He doesn’t exactly hit my hot buttons—the way some people do—but we can work up to that, I’m sure. Especially with enough wine. Terry isn’t some cocky football player who’d go straight for the sex without a little wining and dining. Terry is a gentleman. Safe. Exactly what I need.
When I tune back in to my table, he’s frantically motioning to a waitress walking by. The woman half-steps toward our table. “Sir, your waiter will be with you shortly.”
Terry smiles impatiently. An average smile. “Yeah, I know. But if you have a minute could you get me some hot water, please?”
The woman gives a strained smile. “I’ll make sure your waiter gets to you as soon as possible.” She scampers off in the direction of the kitchen.
My date makes eye contact and offers me a pleasant expression. “So, what do you do, Iris?”
I try to figure out the best way to say that I’m broke and unemployed and damn near destitute without coming across as a loser. “Actually, um, I’m in between businesses right now. I used to own a sandwich shop until a few months ago. Now, I-I’m trying to figure out what’s next…”
He perks up a little in his seat. “Oh, that’s interesting. What products are you interested in getting into?” His rapt attention is focused on me as he pulls the bread basket from the edge of the table.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cannon enter the restaurant. My gaze tracks him across the room until he glides into a chair at the table for two where Jude is now sitting. A ridiculous sense of relief floods me. No mystery date for my roommate tonight. This is really silly, Iris.
I force myself to direct all my attention on Terry and cut off the part of my brain that’s subconsciously leaning toward Jude as if compelled by a satellite signal. “Well, I’m always looking for new opportunities but lately, I’ve been researching some e-commerce products. Y’know—T-shirts, mugs, other types of merchandise.” There are a few somewhat ‘risqué’ ideas I’m about to dive into but I’m not so comfortable sharing those with a stranger.
He’s so into this conversation, though. He’s literally setting the china and silverware aside to lean closer. The attention makes me blush.
I’m an introvert. Sue me.
“Wonderful. I’ve dabbled in e-commerce before moving on to my current business,” he tells me, absently relocating the decorative centrepiece to the neighboring table. “If you want a few pointers, I’d be happy to take a look.”
My pulse ticks up a little bit because it seems like this guy and I might actually have a few things in common. “Oh, I’d like that…”
Wow. I think I…feel something. A connection.
Terry tilts his head to the side and gives me an adoring look. “Ah, you’re just perfect, Iris…”
A heated blush takes over my cheeks. I know I should say ‘thank you’ at the compliment but my tongue is a little bit tied up.
“…For our organization,” he finishes, his eyes glittering.
“Huh?” I blink.
Right then our waiter comes up to our table. “Good evening, folks. How are you doing tonight?”
Terry watches the man eagerly. “Do you think you can get me some hot water?”
“Sure, of course.” The man scribbles on his pad. “And are you ready to order?” He juts his chin at the menu in my date’s hand.
“I had a big lunch so just the hot water will be fine.” He folds his menu and passes it back.
It seems to me like Terry is trying to worm his way out of having to pay for dinner. I’m not one of those women who expects a guy to pay her way but at the same time, no one likes a cheap-o. If he’d rather split the bill, he could just be a man about it and say so directly.
With a crinkled brow, the waiter turns to me. “Would you like a few more minutes to decide?”
“Well, I was actually thinking the beet and asparagus—”
“She won’t be ordering right now,” Terry interrupts—rather rudely—basically shooing the server away.
All of a sudden, I’m not so sure I’m feeling the connection anymore.
When he turns back to me, I nail him with a scowl. “What the hell was that?” I just met the guy and he thinks he can speak for me?
“You don’t have to order all that fancy, overpriced French food.” He nods at the menu clenched in my hands as he reaches for his briefcase at the foot of his chair. He sets the briefcase on the table. “It’s all trans-fats, anyway.”
He thumbs in the combination and flips the thing open with a flourish.
And now, I have no idea what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
There are at least a dozen little compartments inside his briefcase. Mini peanut butter bottles sit inside some of the tiny chambers. Then, there are sachets of what appear to be instant coffee and hot chocolate. Crap—that’s instant oatmeal in there!
And pamphlets. So. Many. Pamphlets.
Oh my god. Is this a pyramid scheme thing?!
Terry grabs the bread basket and before I know it, he’s slathering up a slice. “Iris, I’m actually a rep for OrganicBreakfast Prime, an organization dedicated to bringing the world a wide range of premium quality organic breakfast products. We only sell organic. We only sell high quality…And we only charge two hundred ninety-nine dollars for a three month subscription. After the activation fee of forty-nine ninety-nine, of course.” He hands the sampler my way. “You look like a jalapeño-almond butter type of gal. Let me know what you think?”
Crap! It’s a pyramid scheme thing!!
I glance in Jude’s direction.
Terry is still rambling away as he reaches over the water pitcher to set the slathered up bread on my plate. “This is a really good opportunity, Iris. I’m tellin’ you. And after just a few minutes talking to you, I can see you share our values. That’s why I’d love to get you on my team.” He pulls a hot chocolate sachet from the briefcase. “Now, where’s the waiter with our hot water?”
From across the room, Jude is blinking at me in confusion.
“Too spicy? I also have cinnamon-prune but be prepared to spend some time in the little girls’ room after this one. It’s been known to ‘loosen things up’, if you know what I mean.” Terry pulls an order sheet from the inside pocket of his briefcase and he continues his pitch. “Anyway, you can generate an income from our company in several ways…”
This is not happening. Not on my first date since my divorce. This guy is using a dating app to recruit prospects for his multi-level marketing hack.
My chair legs make a grating sound as I push away from the table. I stand on wobbly knees.
Once again, the average man across from me flashes his average smile. “Iris—How would you like to be an OrganicBreakfast Prime representative? How would you like to be your own boss?”
20
Jude
So, Iris Merlini is dating again. And somehow, I’ve decided to make that my business.
I was restless after she left the house with that loser.
Is she going to spend the night with some guy? Is she going to go back to his house? And why the hell am I bothered?
I couldn’t just lie back and watch sports news and act like it was all good. Because…I want her.
There—I admitted it.
I’m attracted to my roommate. Watching her walk out the door on another man’s arm nearly drove me crazy with j
ealousy.
I don’t know what possessed me but next thing I know, I was calling up the fanciest restaurants in town to see if anyone had a reservation booked for ‘Merlini’. I lucked out when I called Le Sous-Sol.
I brazenly graduated from ‘innocent curiosity’ into ‘straight-up stalkerhood’ when I booked my own reservation for two then called up Cannon and lured him out of his house under the pretext of having something urgent to discuss with him.
Now, here we fucking are. Sitting across the room from Iris with her shapely thighs and her juicy boobs, tarted up in that curve-worshipping tight dress. I can’t get over how good she looks and every few seconds, I find myself stealing a peek.
Cannon growls. “Could you stop eye-fucking your roommate for long enough to tell me why the hell you dragged me here? It’s after eight. I’m supposed to be having naked-time with my wife.” He’s bitter as hell.
I shake myself out of my stupor and face my brother. “We need to find a way to help Mom and Dad,” I declare.
He drops an elbow on the table. “What are you talking about?”
“I talked to Mom the other day,” I tell him. “She’s kind of in over her head with Callie. I think she and Dad could use some help.”
“Like a nanny?”
“Yeah, I guess a nanny. I hadn’t really considered that.”
Cannon nods slowly. “That makes sense.” He squints and gets this far-away look on his face. “Y’know what? I’ll talk to Lexi. Her sister, Jessa, might be interested. She said she needs some extra money while she’s looking for teaching work.”
Sounds like a good idea to me. “Jessa’s cool.” I sneak another furtive peek at Iris.
She’s still sexy. I’m still salty.
“Yeah, Jessa’s cool.” My brother laughs a little, drawing my attention back his way. “Bubbly as hell, but cool.” Slowly, his amusement fades. “Gosh, that poor kid.” He grabs a roll from the bread basket and pinches off a chunk. “If only Eli hadn’t fucked his whole life up, huh?” He pops the bread into his mouth.
I chuff. “Tell me about it…And Gabby? What a bitch, abandoning her kid like that.” I scratch my forehead, a little nervous about what I’m about to say. “But…but don’t you think we should be doing more for Eli? I mean. We’re his brothers. I just feel…” I mess around with the silverware near my plate.
My second oldest brother’s incarceration is a touchy issue in our family. Eli’s smart. Too goddamn smart. No one had a clue what he was up to until federal agents were slapping handcuffs on his wrists. His imprisonment has been hard on the family. It took us all by surprise. He always seemed like an upstanding guy, a family man. We were all wrong about him. Ma’s still having a hard time accepting it. Walker is coping via his anger. The rest of us fall somewhere on the spectrum of emotions in between.
Cannon’s chest expands on a great, big sigh. “My…” He hesitates, looking nervous, too. “My lawyer has been working on building a case to get him released from jail.”
Both of my eyebrows bounce up to my hairline. “You’ve been trying to get him out of jail?”
He nods slowly. “Every time it looks like Frank is getting somewhere with the case, his law firm hits a dead end. I don’t know…we might just need to wait this out, wait until he serves out his sentence.”
I drop my head. Fuck. Eli was convicted of committing some pretty elaborate corporate crimes and I know that he’s guilty and it’s only fair that he do his time, but he’s my family and I can’t help but wish things were different, if only for Callie’s sake.
“Mom and dad have been visiting him in secret,” I spill.
Cannon’s eyes narrow. “What?”
I bob my head in confirmation. “Yeah. That monthly date of theirs?” He nods warily. “It’s a front. That’s when they go off to see him.”
He blows out a breath. “This is all too fucked up.”
That’s when the screeching sound of chair legs grating the floor rises above the ambient music. My attention moves back to Iris.
And I know I shouldn’t stare but…
My roommate’s date is now standing in the middle of this fancy French restaurant, trying to force-feed her a granola bar.
What the…?
Iris takes a step back. She politely declines the man’s offer with a tight smile and a little hand wave. She glances around, evidently conscious of her growing audience.
The waiter tries to intervene, quietly whispering a reprimand to Iris’s date. But the man gives the server the brush-off and takes an insistent step closer to Iris. He grabs a brochure out of his briefcase and brandishes it in her face.
“Is he trying to sell her something?” I mutter. This is very confusing.
Cannon’s attention moves in that direction. Half the patrons in the restaurant are staring over that way.
Iris takes another step back and bumps into the chair behind her. At the panicked expression on her features, I feel something protective rising up in me but I don’t want to jump in the middle of this and make an even bigger scene. I grip the edge of my chair and lay back, watching to see how this plays out.
Now, the restaurant manager is at their table. “Sir, ma’am—this is a restaurant. If you want to dine here, you have to order off our menu. We don’t allow patrons to eat outside meals on our premises.”
All that should be self-evident. Le Sous-Sol is the most exclusive restaurant in town. Iris’s date is obviously an idiot.
“It’s just a bit of a sampler,” the guy says dismissively. “Not a threat to your over-priced ‘escargot’ and ‘foie gras’.” He puts the French words in air-quotes then shoves the brochure at Iris again.
“Sir, you’ll have to leave.” The manager is bloating up with restrained rage. Won’t be long before he blows his lid.
Again, Iris glances around embarrassedly. When our eyes hit, I’m done holding myself back.
Without even a glimpse in Cannon’s direction, I’m stomping across the restaurant like a goddamned Avenger. I tower above the peanut butter peddler when I step between him and Iris. “Hey man, are you gonna just leave or are you gonna make this into a problem?”
By this point, the whole restaurant has tuned into the drama.
He blinks up into my face and for a fraction, he freezes. Disoriented. Starstruck. “J-Jude Kingston…?”
I roll my eyes. “Not the time, man. Not the time.” I point him in the direction of the door. “Leave.”
At the slicing edge in my tone, the man grabs his briefcase and sulks his way to the exit. “Fucking over-priced foie gras,” he mutters bitterly to himself.
Iris is left standing there, one arm banded around her middle. Every inch of her is pink with embarrassment and she looks like she’s trying to fold in on herself.
She grabs her glass and tosses back the last of her wine, squirming as it burns its way down. She looks up at me, adorably shamefaced. She whispers, “I think I'm gonna need a ride home.”
21
Jude
Minutes later, I’ve settled the bill and the waiter has packed up my brother’s meal to go. Cannon merrily accepts his takeout container and he’s out the door, eager to get home and pick up naked-hour with his wife.
Then, Iris and I are in my car, making the short drive home. The ride is painfully silent, with nothing but the low sounds of a sports talk station filling the vehicle. I squeeze behind her car in the driveway and I have to say something to her.
I turn in her direction but before I can get a word out, she’s muttered a hasty ‘thanks’ and she’s bolting up the walkway and through the front door.
Fuck—I want to bang my head on the steering wheel because, yet again, I’ve missed my shot. Usually, I’m good with women. Getting a female to spend the night with me is pretty straightforward, especially once they realize who I am. But with Iris, I’ve got zero game.
A beep sounds from the seat Iris just vacated. I glance over and notice her cellphone lighting up on my passenger seat. With a sigh, I s
coop up the device and move up the walkway.
My limp isn’t so pronounced tonight, I realize. A rush of gratitude pours through me as I climb the stairs to the second floor. I’m healing, slowly but surely. All that work I’ve been putting in, it’s helping.
I started working with therapist number five a few days ago. This new guy is younger. Eager to help. A Paragons fan. He doesn’t work out of some fancy sports clinic. He makes house visits since he doesn’t have his own work space. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in dedication and he sure as hell believes in me. With him and my sexy new exercise buddy in my corner, I’m starting to feel like my career has a real shot.
The cat skitters down the dark hallway when she hears me approaching. “Hey, Foxxy. It’s just me.”
Light pours from under Iris’s door. My heart is pounding in my temples and I take a second before knocking to gather my courage. After two soft taps of my knuckles, the door slowly swings open. Light from her bedroom spills into the hallway.
Iris stands there, looking up at me from under those pretty pale lashes of hers. Her glittery earrings are gone and so is her tempting red lipstick. She’s taken down that fancy up-do and now her curls bounce down, skimming the tops of her breasts.
“Forgot your phone in the car.” I give her a soft grin, unable to take my eyes off her.
She swallows and stretches out a palm full of hair clips and pins and elastics. “Thank you.” Her tongue swipes nervously across her lip when I set the device into her hand. She’s so tiny now that her high heels are gone. Tiny and curvy and perfect. “And thank you for coming to my rescue back at the restaurant. I was a little in over my head.”
I nod. “Anytime, Iris. If I’m around and you need my help, I’ve got your back.” My gaze bores into hers. “By now, you know that, don’t you?”
She presses her back into the doorframe. One polished gold toenail swivels back and forth, digging into the carpet at her feet. “I know that…” she confesses.
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 12
