Table 10: Part 1: A Novella Series

by Jiffy Kate

  I hear my name being called from behind me, but I shake my head, giving LuAnne a “one sec” over my shoulder. “You don’t even know me. Not really.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No,” I say a little firmer, feeling my hackles start to rise. “You don’t.”

  Nathan tilts his head back and lets out a laugh. It’s glorious. His chiseled jaw is even more defined as the skin tightens. His Adam’s apple bobs slightly. When he looks back at me, his eyes almost twinkle as he narrows them at me. “Stubborn, aren’t we?” He says it almost like it’s a challenge.

  I frown at him, not liking the way he’s obviously trying to get under my skin, because it’s working. “I’m not stubborn.”

  At this moment, I wish there were a way to get the money back from my super.

  I hate owing people.

  I hate feeling like someone has the upper hand on me.

  I hate someone telling me what I am and am not going to do.

  “I’m paying you back.”

  I turn and practically stomp back to the kitchen, half-full pot of coffee still in my hand. When I set it down on the counter a little harder than usual, LuAnne’s head snaps up.

  “Who ruffled your tail feathers?”

  I let out a frustrated groan, smoothing my hair back. “No one.”

  “Okay,” she drawls. “Table four needs ketchup, and table five needs refills. Carla called in again … sick kid.”

  Of course she did.

  Chapter 5

  As I’m finishing up behind the counter, long after closing time, a loud knock on the glass door almost makes me pee my pants. I reach under the counter to turn the radio down.

  My heart is beating so fast it’s making me feel lightheaded.

  I squint my eyes, trying to see who would be knocking on the door this late at night.

  My first thought is Mack, but he has a key, of course.

  I consider turning off the rest of the lights and hiding in the back until they go away, but then I catch a glimpse of a familiar profile.

  Now, my heart’s beating fast for an entirely different reason.

  I walk to the door, and when he sees me, he does this one-handed casual wave thing … like we’re just passing by as we walk down the sidewalk. Something about seeing it’s him puts me at ease. I can’t explain it, but I want to let him in. And maybe that’s a metaphor for more than just the diner.

  With my hand on the knob, my more sensible side starts screaming out ridiculous homicide statistics. I could be the next missing person. They could find my chopped-up body in the walk-in freezer.

  He quirks that eyebrow at me, like are you gonna let me in? And I smile … half nervous, half curious. Curiosity wins out every time.

  “Hey.” There’s more question in my tone than anything, which is good. I don’t want to sound nervous or scared … or eager.

  “Hey, Kadi.” His voice pours over me like warm honey, and I’m definitely drinking his Kool-Aid. “I was walking by and saw you in here. What are you doing working so late?” He looks around my shoulder, inspecting the place.

  “I stayed late to buff the floors,” I say, pointing behind me, feeling like Baby in Dirty Dancing when she says she carried watermelons.

  “Alone?” That same critical look from the day I was sick is back on his face.

  “LuAnne usually helps me, but she had a thing tonight,” I blurt out. There goes my cover.

  His brows pinch tighter together. “It’s not really safe for you to be here so late at night by yourself.”

  “Oh, uh …” I shake my head a little. “Well, I do this all the time … well, not all the time, but a lot,” I ramble. Why are my palms sweaty? Shit. Inconspicuously, I try to dry them on the front of my apron, but it’s seen better days. I managed to spill spaghetti and chili on myself today.

  “Looks like you’ve had a long day,” he says, following my gaze down.

  “Yeah, guess so.”

  “Good thing it’s Friday.”

  “I guess,” I say, shrugging. I mean, does it really matter when you work weekends too?

  We stand there for a second, and a somewhat awkward silence settles.

  “Well,” I say, trying to think of what to say or do, “I should finish up.”

  Nathan nods and bites down on his lip, like he’s debating something.

  “Why don’t I stay while you finish. I can walk you to your car, at least. Make sure you get out of here safely.”

  “I, uh… I walk.”

  “Well, then I’ll drive you home.”

  Arguing with Nathan doesn’t seem to work very well, so I agree.

  “Okay.”

  I let him in the door and lock it behind him. Looking out the window, I wonder if anyone else saw him come in here and if they did, what they’re thinking.

  What am I thinking?

  I want him.

  In the most inappropriate ways.

  “Stay on the rug,” I instruct. “The floors aren’t all the way dry yet.”

  “Okay.” He stands on the rug, and I grab a chair for him to sit in.

  “I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

  As I start the buffer back up, I feel silly for letting him stay. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here late by myself and won’t be the last. I almost stop and tell him to go, but when I glance up, he’s looking at me, watching me … like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, and the intensity of his gaze causes the words to stick in my throat. So, I continue to buff the floors, with my head down to hide the blush on my cheeks.

  When I’m finished with the floors and the buffer is back in the cleaning closet, I turn off the rest of the lights, and Nathan follows me to the back door, his hand gently resting on my lower back.

  “You really didn’t have to wait for me,” I tell him, locking the door behind us.

  “I couldn’t just leave you here by yourself. It’s dark and late. Besides,” he says in a hushed tone, his mouth close to my ear, “I’ve thought about you all day.”

  That confession causes me to freeze, my mind wondering if he really just said what I think he just said.

  “Let’s go.” With his hand on the small of my back, he directs me out the door and toward the sidewalk.

  “How far is your car?” I ask, trying to think of something to say.

  “Just another block.” He motions ahead to the large parking garage.

  “Why’d you give me the money?” I ask, because I need to know. I want to know what he wants from me.

  He lets out a deep breath, and it vaporizes in the cold air. “Haven’t we already been over this?” he says sternly.

  “We have… I just... No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

  He looks over at me, but we continue to walk in silence across the street before he responds. “I think I see myself in you.”

  “Really?” I ask, arching an eyebrow and slowing to a stop as we reach the garage, waiting for him to lead me in the right direction. “Yeah, I can totally see the resemblance,” I tell him, laughing sharply. “Is it the apron?”

  Humor and sarcasm are my coping mechanisms. When life gets too weird or complicated or sad, I tend to make jokes. They’re not always good ones, but they somehow take away the tightness in my chest and stomach.

  “No,” he says with a lot more seriousness as we walk by car after car that probably costs more than the entire apartment building I live in. “The girl trying to make ends meet, wanting to do more but having no way out of her current situation.”

  I swallow hard and cut my eyes over at him. “That’s …” I’m getting ready to say “that’s not me” or “you’ve got me all wrong”, but it’s true. That’s me. The question is, how does he know that, and why would it remind him of himself? “What’s a rich guy like you got in common with a girl like me?” I ask as he remotely unlocks a sleek black car with dark tinted windows.

  “More than you know,” he says, opening the passenger side door for me.
<
br />   “Tell me,” I demand, pausing outside the car.

  “Get in.”

  So demanding.

  I do get in, but not because he told me to, because I want to. When he shuts the door, the smell of leather and woods and spices fill my nose, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. The smell is familiar. It’s an intense version of what I’ve faintly smelled on Nathan at the diner. Above the smells of food and other customers, his has always prevailed, so much so that I miss it when he leaves.

  He opens the driver’s side door and slides smoothly into the seat. With a push of a button, the dash lights up, and the engine purrs to life. I want to rub the seat I’m sitting in… and take it home with me. It molds around me like a cocoon. The leather is so soft; I could sleep here.

  “I haven’t always been the rich guy,” he finally says. “I know what it’s like to feel as if you’ll never catch a break.”

  The sincerity of his confession washes over me. I stare at his profile, trying to imagine Nathan any different than how he is right now, and I realize that money or no money, suit or no suit, he’d still be beautiful.

  He pulls out of the spot he’d been backed into and out onto the city street. “Where to?”

  “2nd and Harrison,” I tell him, pointing to the left.

  He doesn’t reply, just lets out a gruff noise and turns left.

  “I understand if you don’t want to take your car down there. I wouldn’t,” I tell him, figuring his displeasure was due to the location.

  “I don’t care about the car.”

  I nod, unsure of what to say.

  We ride in silence for a couple of blocks, the city passing by slowly, buildings turning from shiny office spaces to more industrial structures.

  “How was the pie?” I ask, trying to fill the void.

  “Delicious,” he says, his brows still pulled tightly together.

  “Did I do something wrong? You can just drop me off at the corner—”

  “No, and no.”

  I turn my gaze back out to the street, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve done something to upset him. He was fine until we got in the car.

  “Take a right at the next light,” I tell him, watching his profile as the street lights cast shadows and illuminate in varying patterns. One thing that is always prevalent is his jaw line. I’ve never seen anything like it, except maybe on a model in a magazine. It’s so straight and strong. My hands kind of feel twitchy as I think about reaching out and touching it.

  The car slows at the corner, and I feel anxiety creeping in and curling up in the pit of my stomach. My apartment building is two blocks up, and I don’t want to get out of the car not knowing if he’s mad at me or not. I don’t even know what I did to make him mad.

  I’m not sure why it matters, but it does.

  “Two blocks up. My apartment building is on the right-hand side. You can just pull up at the curb.”

  He glances over at me, and the light from the street hits him just right so that his eyes shine. I’ve noticed them at the diner, but they’re different tonight—darker, deeper, more beautiful. The way he looks at me with them makes me swallow hard, and I struggle to keep my composure.

  He shifts the gear of the car, and something about the motion makes my stomach tighten. I’d love to watch him drive this on a highway where he can go faster than fifty.

  What the hell?

  Who gets off on a guy shifting gears in a car?

  “This is it.”

  He pulls to the side and puts the car in park.

  I guess I should get out now, but I don’t want to, and I don’t know what to say. I need him to do something or say something.

  “This doesn’t look safe for a girl living alone,” he says as his eyes scan the building and the surrounding area.

  “Who says I live alone?” I ask, not liking the way he’s criticizing my hood or being so presumptuous. Although, he’s right. On both counts.

  “Do you?” he asks, turning slightly in his seat to face me.

  The intensity of his gaze forces the truth right out of me. “Yes.” I reach for the door handle. “Thank you for driving me home,” I say in a rush.

  Nathan moves quickly, reaching across my body to keep me from opening the door. “Not yet.”

  I lean back, suddenly consumed by him … his scent envelops me, and he’s so close I can feel the heat from his body. Instead of sitting back in his seat, he looks up at me from under ridiculously long lashes, ones that guys shouldn’t be allowed to have. Women pay big bucks for lashes like that.

  “Your eyes are really brown, like almost black,” I mutter, lost for something else to say, confused at his behavior.

  He smirks.

  And it goes straight to my vagina.

  Like I physically feel it.

  How is that possible?

  Swallowing again, I switch my gaze from his lips back to his eyes, which are now burning into me.

  “I—I’m gonna … go,” I say, pointing over my shoulder.

  “Stay there,” he demands, and even though I’d normally balk at someone telling me what to do, I do it. I stay and watch him gracefully slip out of the car and walk around the front. When he opens my door, I hesitate for a moment.

  His hand appears in front of my face, and I stare at it for a second before placing mine in it. It’s soft but firm. He keeps hold of my hand until I’m standing in front of him, and I awkwardly look at him and then at where he’s touching me and then away at the dirty gray apartment building.

  The contrast between the surroundings and Nathan and his shiny car is like night and day. He’s the day … or maybe he’s the night.

  Despite the brightness of his eyes, they take a darker turn as he continues to look at me. And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him. My gaze focuses on his lips, and I notice them twitch, and then his tongue darts out and wets them, making them even more tempting.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he says. “If you don’t want me to, now’s the time to speak up.”

  I shake my head.

  “I’m going to need some words, Kadi.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, you want me to kiss you?”

  I nod, unable to produce enough air to work my vocal cords. They’re paralyzed, as am I. Nathan’s hands come up and cup my face. I watch as his lips come closer. He pauses for a second, searching my eyes and my face for a sign that this isn’t what I want, but he won’t find it, because I do. I want it—want him—so badly it’s all-consuming.

  The second his mouth touches mine, any control I still had over my body vanishes. His kiss is soft and sweet at first, pressing gently.

  “Open your mouth,” he whispers against my lips, and I do, allowing him access, silently telling him more. And he obliges. His tongue pushes inside, and my entire body reacts to the sensation of being consumed by him.

  He pulls back too soon, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, and I let out a small whimper at the loss of contact.

  “I’ll watch you while you get inside,” he says abruptly, something resembling pain in his tone.

  “Oh … okay.” I nod like this is normal … like it’s something I do all the time. Gorgeous men kissing me on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. Happens all the time.

  “Kadi,” he says after I’ve finally forced my feet to turn and start to walk. I turn back around, still feeling the lingering effect of his kiss, to see him reach into his breast pocket. Taking a step toward me, he gives me a card with “Nathan Hendricks” in big bold black letters. “That’s my personal number. Call me. If you need a ride or you’re working late by yourself … anything.”

  “Okay,” I agree, his words only partially processing in my brain. “Thank you.”

  He merely nods and slips his hands in his pockets, waiting for me to walk into the building.

  As I make my way up the stairs, I wonder if Nathan is still standing on the sidewalk, looking like a dream. Curiosity drives me, and instead of wa
lking, I start running, taking the steps two at a time. When I get to my door, I quickly unlock both locks and fly through it, slamming it shut behind me. I pause at my window and take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down and only peek. If he is there, I don’t want him to know I just ran the stairs to steal one last look.

  And there he is. Even from three floors up, he still looks beautiful. And it might be my imagination, but I think I can still see his dark orbs, and they’re looking at me. He cocks an eyebrow, does a two-finger wave, and then walks back around to the driver’s side. I continue to watch as he climbs in and slowly pulls away.

  I look at the card in my hand and place it to my lips that still feel tingly from his kiss.

  Would it be weird to call him now?

  Would he answer if I did?

  What would I say?

  The adrenaline that begins to pump through my veins at the thought makes me practically break out in a sweat. Until tonight, I’d kept myself from thinking too much about him, knowing he’s completely out of my league and no one I should even fantasize about.

  Fantasies aren’t a luxury I allow myself. Fantasies only lead to disappointment.

  I’m a realist.

  But … after that kiss and being in a confined space with him, smelling him, touching him … I know I won’t be able to help myself. My mind is going there. It’s imagining things I didn’t even realize I wanted.

  I pull the curtain back once more, just to make sure he’s gone. When all I see is the empty street and a guy rummaging through a dumpster, I close it back and take my Nathan Hendricks business card and lie down—clothes and all. I think if I close my eyes and inhale hard, I can smell him.

  Chapter 6

  It’s Monday morning, and normally I’d punch the snooze button like it’s my job, but when my alarm goes off, I’m already awake. Actually, my body has been awake for hours with crazy, steamy dreams of Nathan Hendricks. He doesn’t come to the diner on the weekends. Some small part of me was hoping he’d show up anyway, but no such luck. So, this morning, all I can think about is seeing him. I shouldn’t. I know. I’m being a stupid girl. But I can’t help it. And I swear I tried. I tried thinking about other things, reading a book … I even worked late with LuAnne on Saturday, even though I didn’t have to.