Her Keeper

by Rianna Campbell

  He needed to do something about that or he was never going to get to sleep. And if he didn’t sleep soon, discipline and self-control be damned, someone was going to get hurt.

  Stripping out of his work clothes and tossing them aside, he dropped to the floor and did push-ups until his arms felt like rubber. He rolled onto his back and did as many sit-ups as he could manage, all while trying to remember every colorful invective hurled at him by every drill sergeant he’d ever met.

  By the time he was too exhausted to move, he was smiling softly to himself and sweating like a whore in church. A quick rinse in the shower, a pair of clean skivvies, and he was off to bed just as the sun was coming up.

  He popped one of the pills his doctor had given him and settled in. Tomorrow, he’d wake up and go about his day like none of this ever happened. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t see Amanda again until Alexandra’s wedding. She’d avoid him, he’d let her, and everything would go back to normal. That was exactly what he wanted. Really.

  Right. And maybe if he was lucky, the wizard would give him a brain...

  ✽✽✽

  Amanda awoke the next morning from a deliciously vivid dream starring none other than the gorgeous, infuriating Parker Hanson. After their run-in the night before, she probably should have expected it. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He played a starring role in most of her waking fantasies, so why would her dreams be any different?

  The hair at the back of her neck and around her face was damp with sweat and her clothes stuck uncomfortably to her skin. Since it was only mid-May and she’d slept with the window open, it had nothing to do with the temperature of her bedroom.

  She threw the sheets off and stretched, noting that her shorts seemed particularly clingy and her nether region was overly sensitive.

  Again, not a surprise considering what she’d been dreaming about. It had clearly been way too long since she’d gotten laid. Not that it usually did much for her. If anything, it only added to her frustration. That was the whole point of going to the club.

  She’d dated quite a bit, even got pretty serious with a couple guys in college and after she’d graduated from culinary school. But when it came to sex, she’d never been able to make it work for her. It wasn’t like she’d hated it. It was okay, but she’d never had the kind of sex that other women bragged about.

  She was beginning to think she was… broken. Almost all the guys she’d ever been with had been very nice and patient. They’d tried, some more than others, but overall, she couldn’t blame it on her partners. No matter what they did, she just couldn’t find that big O.

  She could get there on her own, thank God, but there was only so much satisfaction you could get from a battery-operated boyfriend. BOB was reliable but predictable. In fact, she was getting downright bored with him.

  Yawning, Amanda finally looked at the clock. It was past ten already and she was due at the restaurant by eleven-thirty to start prepping. She showered quickly, ignoring the urge to replay the more entertaining parts of her dream and head down south for a little release before work.

  She toweled off and dressed in her usual work clothes: a comfortable pair of black pants, god-awful black shoes that saved her a fortune in chiropractor bills, and a plain black t-shirt. She brushed her wet hair up into a haphazard knot at the top of her head and stepped out into the chaos that was currently happening in her living room.

  “Dude, it was your turn to do the dishes.”

  “I did them.”

  “Then why are there still dishes in the sink?”

  “Because Jace came home at three in the morning, made himself food, and left the dishes in the sink like the douche-canoe that he is.”

  “Morning Ricky Bobby,” Amanda said with a grin as she pulled a travel mug from the cupboard.

  “And. Rick and Bobby.” Rick rolled his eyes but Bobby grinned at her.

  “Aw, come on, Rick. You’ve gotta learn to drive with the fear,” Bobby said, shooting Amanda a wink.

  “Don’t you fucking start,” Rick mumbled, taking his cup and walking away. Probably to go kick Jace’s ass for leaving dishes in the sink again.

  Rick and Bobby were a literal odd couple. The two of them had been friends since high school, roommates in college, and generally came as a package deal. When they’d answered the ad they’d posted after one of her previous roommates had moved out in the middle of the night owing three months’ worth of rent, they hadn’t been in a position to be too picky.

  The apartment was a four-bedroom, with her Jace and Dylan all having their own rooms, they’d only had one to spare. When she’d explained that, they hadn’t cared. They were willing to share. At first, she’d wondered if they were an actual couple, but all the signs indicated that wasn’t the case.

  She’d quickly noticed that Rick was by far the most irritable person she’d ever met, which of course meant that she had to irritate him at every possible opportunity. He was their resident clean freak, which nicely balanced out Bobby’s frat boy lifestyle.

  Jace and Dylan were typical guys, which meant they weren’t super concerned with the dishes being done or the toilet being clean, but they managed to pick up after themselves more often than not. Bobby was by far the messiest one in the apartment.

  It was honestly a miracle that Rick hadn’t smothered him in this sleep by now. Why he would still want to room with Bobby was a mystery, but that was none of her business.

  “Going to work?” Bobby asked, sipping his Mountain Dew. Amanda had no idea how he survived on the stuff, but it seemed to be all he ever drank.

  “Yup.”

  “Nice. Think you can bring home one of those fancy desserts when you’re done?”

  “Maybe. If I have any left.”

  “Nice. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Catch you later.”

  “Later.”

  She took two steps and then turned back.

  “By the way, I left the plate in the sink. Don’t tell Mr. Clean, okay?”

  Bobby just snorted and shook his head.

  Amanda stepped out into the warm spring morning and took a deep breath. She loved this time of year. Most people would think that living in a city like New York, the change of seasons wouldn’t be as noticeable. But Amanda could still smell it in the air.

  Yes, there might still be plenty of exhaust and food smells to contend with, but underneath she could smell the scent of earth and grass and leaves from the small patches of greenery that dotted the sidewalks.

  The sun was out and she wished the restaurant were closer so that she could walk the whole way instead of having to descend into the subway at the next stop.

  All in all, it would be a perfect day. Except… She couldn’t stop replaying her interaction with Parker last night. She wished she knew what he found so repulsive about her. She was in excellent shape, thanks to twice-weekly sessions with Alexandra’s personal trainer.

  Thank you very much, Trey.

  She had her own job, her own place. She was smart, funny and she sure as hell wasn’t ugly. She’d never much cared what people thought of her, and she’d absolutely never even considered changing herself for a man. And she wasn’t really considering it now. She just wanted to know.

  She’d admit she wasn’t the most tactful person, and not everyone appreciated how direct she usually was. Some people weren’t a fan of her sense of humor or they just weren’t interested in the same things that she was. And that was all fine. She didn’t need everyone to like her.

  But from the very beginning, Parker had practically carried around a ten-foot pole to keep her at bay. He hadn’t talked to her long enough to find reasons not to like her. It was like he had just taken an instant dislike to her.

  He was normally polite enough, but last night… the way he’d chased her out and told her not to come back- it was like he didn’t even want to have to see her.

  Was he grossed out by the fact that she’d be interested in the club?
Could he be so uptight that the idea she’d even visit a place like that had revolted him? He hadn’t really seemed disgusted, more… angry? Frustrated, maybe? She’d never been good at that subtle stuff.

  She knew exactly what she was worth, no more, no less and if someone didn’t want what she was offering, it was no skin off her back. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that. But this time, she couldn’t help but wonder why.

  Maybe the next time she saw him, she’d just ask him what the deal was. It would be uncomfortable, at least for her, but she liked to think she could handle a little criticism.

  There were times when she’d asked hard questions and hadn’t like the answers, but she preferred dealing with it and moving on rather than letting things get under her skin and fester.

  Rip the bandaid off, deal with what was underneath, and then, one way or another, move on.

  Maybe that was why she was more comfortable hanging with the boys. They tended to prefer confrontation most of the time. If they had a beef, they’d say so. Sometimes they’d throw hands, clear the air and then go out for a beer.

  Some guys didn’t seem to appreciate the same behavior from a woman, but that was life. Some guys didn’t like it when women did any of the things that “only men do,” and she told them all the same thing. Two words. Autocorrects to “Duck you.”

  She’d gotten used to it in culinary school and she’d reached a point years ago where she simply wouldn’t let it bother her anymore. Being a professional chef, even a pastry chef, was stepping into a male-dominated field. You had to have thick skin if you wanted to survive, let alone succeed.

  She’d learned to shrug off the casual misogyny and give as good as she got, which is probably why her boss hated her so much. She was a thorn in his side and he’d like nothing more than to prove that the only kitchen she belonged in was the one in the house her husband paid for.

  Fuck that noise…

  Cooking was her passion and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. Was she the best? Definitely not. Was she damn good? Hell, yes. And she worked harder than anyone else because she had to.

  If she wanted to keep her job and someday get a better one, she had to be perfect. No mistakes, no screw-ups. Anything short of flawless was unacceptable.

  Lost in her thoughts as she was, the train ride flew by and she nearly missed her stop. Enough of this nonsense. She needed to get her head on straight. One mistake and Sergei would be reminding her that there were at least a hundred people who’d replace her in a heartbeat.

  And if she couldn’t find satisfaction in her personal life, she’d be damned if she was going to lose the one thing she had because she was obsessing over a man, especially one that didn’t want her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hopping off the train, she hoofed it the last three blocks and arrived with ten minutes to spare. She stashed her bag in the employee area, pausing just long enough to throw on her chef’s coat and fasten a black bandana around her hair.

  “Hey, Jorge.” She greeted the sous chef as she passed him with a pat on the back. “You ready for a stellar service tonight?”

  “You know me, I was born ready,” he shot back with a wink.

  “What’s the special tonight?” Amanda asked as she prepped her workstation, arranging the utensils she would need to work her magic so that they were easily accessible.

  “Seabass.”

  “Hmm,” Amanda considered the options for the perfect pairing. Fish was always a popular summer option on the menu, and with the weather getting warmer, she wanted to offer up something light and fresh that would match the delicate flavor of the fish. Nothing too rich, though, considering how heavy they usually went on the butter with the seafood dishes.

  After reviewing what ingredients they had on hand, Amanda decided on the perfect option and the wheels in her head began to turn.

  “Hughes!” Sergei barked from the kitchen.

  “Here, Chef.”

  “What’s the dessert special tonight?” Sergei asked, never looking up from his clipboard.

  “Poached pear sorbet with honey and cardamom,” Amanda replied,

  “You really think you can pull that off by yourself in time for dinner service?” Sergei asked, finally looking at her over his reading glasses. It reminded her of being scolded by her third-grade teacher for putting gum in Billy Toro’s hair.

  “Yes, Chef.” She wisely omitted the “asshole,” but she thought it.

  “We’ll see.”

  He wandered off to check in with the rest of the staff to make sure everything would be prepped and ready for the first tickets, and Amanda went to work.

  Once she got down to it, the vision took over and she became laser-focused. Cooking for her was a strangely meditative experience. The hours flew by, and at the same time, it was like being in the Matrix. Everything seemed to slow and all her motions were efficient and precise.

  She could peel pears, dash from one station to another while dodging the rest of the staff and pull things off the stove the precise moment they were done with calm and poise. It was the only time in her life when she felt like she had either.

  An hour later, she had the first batch made and ready for taste testing. It had come out exactly as she’d wanted and it was probably some of her best work. Sergei’s response? “Fine.”

  To be fair, that was the most anyone ever got. He was apparently allergic to giving any kind of praise. But whereas everyone else got a nod and a “fine,” she received an eye roll and a grudging “fine.”

  Subtle difference, but definitely not insignificant or unintentional. That just irritated her more. She’d rather he just said that he didn’t like her and the only reason he’d approve anything she did was because he knew it would be good for business.

  But no, Sergei was apparently part of the male population who were actually passive-aggressive bitches. This was not news to her.

  The rest of the night was busy, as they always were on the weekends, and by the time they’d closed for the night, they’d long since sold out of the seabass and her sorbet. Another impeccable dinner service under her belt, Amanda cleaned up her station with a satisfied sigh and took the train home.

  She was exhausted, but in a way that meant she’d earned it with a full day of hard work. She took a long hot shower to wash away the kitchen smells and sweat and pulled on a clean t-shirt.

  She climbed into bed and sighed at the softness of her pillow and the feel of the smooth sheets against her bare legs. She pulled the sheets up to her chest and nestled down into the mattress.

  The last thought she remembered having before she fell asleep was to wonder if Parker was working the club tonight and whether or not he would be looking for her face in the crowd.

  ✽✽✽

  Last night had been the worst kind of torture. He’d worked at Elysium. Again. Because, of course, he had. And the entire night he’d been searching faces in the crowd, hoping and dreading he’d find one in particular.

  He must be a special kind of fucked up if any part of him wanted her to come back. This place would be trouble for her. He just knew it.

  If she was just trying to satisfy her curiosity, that was just peachy, but if she was looking to dip her toes in the pool, she could find herself in the deep end pretty quickly with no idea how to swim.

  Yes, she was an adult, and yes she was smart, but she’d have no idea what she was getting into. She didn’t have the experience to be able to tell if someone actually knew what the fuck they were doing.

  So many of the people here were greener than grass. That much had been obvious from the beginning. Without knowing your shit, some of this stuff was dangerous. The owner supposedly vetted people before he’d allow them to do any of the more dangerous stuff, but Parker was still skeptical. He was probably doing the bare minimum just to cover his ass.

  The last thing the owners would want was a lawsuit splashed all over the front pages of the New York tabloids. It would piss off the members,
lose him business and probably cost him a fortune in legal fees.

  To even be a member here you had to sign an NDA, but that only applied to the other members. It wouldn’t stop someone from talking about what went on there or suing the owner since their names were a matter of public record.

  They might give you a pop quiz on the basics before they put a whip in your hand, but that didn’t mean they were actually doing anything to make sure that these people were experienced enough not to hurt someone.

  And that’s ruling out the possibility that there were just shitty people out there who ignored things like safewords and hard limits on purpose because they got off on inflicting serious pain.

  No, there was no way Amanda would be safe in a place like this, inexperienced as she was. Even though he’d felt like an ass scaring her off like he had last night, it had been the right thing to do. If she wanted to learn about kinks, she could google it from the safety of her own home.

  And if she wanted to try them out…

  He didn’t really want to think about that. And as long as she wasn’t trying it out here, he wouldn’t have to.

  And yet, that hadn’t stopped him from paying careful attention to every blond that walked into the place. And it didn’t keep him from being disappointed when each one turned out not to be her.

  When he got home that night, an unsettling thought had occurred to him. What if she wasn’t as inexperienced as he assumed? He didn’t know anything about her personal life except that she wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment.

  That thought alone had been enough to keep him up the rest of the night. Now, it was six o’clock in the morning and he’d decided he might as well just get up.

  Parker ran a hand through his hair before tossing on some sweats and a t-shirt and wandering into the kitchen to grab some coffee. Jackson’s door was still closed, and Parker decided not to wake him.

  The man had been through hell the last few weeks and he hadn’t been sleeping well. He was going to burn out damn quick if he didn’t figure out this situation with Janie. Just another reason Parker didn’t get involved with people in general and women in particular.