by Vivian Lux
"What can I get you?" I squeaked to Miss Jenkins. "The usual?" I eyed the back door. The van was still sitting there. Loaded and waiting.
"Ah yes, and..." She leaned down, peering into the case. "Is that new, dear? In the corner?"
"Ah yes my double chocolate ganache cupcakes."
"How elegant."
"I think so," I said brightly, mentally begging her to hurry along.
"Perhaps I'll try one of those... one of these days." She straightened up at a glacial pace. "But for now... Why don't you just give me my usual scone? They do go so well with a pot of Darjeeling tea, you know."
"Is that so?" I was already ringing her up. "Glad to hear it. That'll be two thirty-two." My voice climbed up another frantic octave and I could feel Finn and Jackson looking at me with concern. "Here you are, Mrs. Jenkins. Good to see you, thank you!"
"You're welcome, dear." She turned and started making her slow way to the door. I exhaled in relief and was about to sprint to the back door when she turned. "Oh and my dear, I do apologize for waking you in the evening. Old habits are hard to break. You understand don't you?"
"Yes, of course," I smiled through gritted teeth. "It's fine."
"Yes of course it is," she corrected imperiously. I pressed my lips together to keep from shouting at her to hurry up until she finally, finally was out of the door.
"Goddammit!" I shouted, yanking off my apron and throwing it down. "Fucking fuck!"
"What's wrong?" Finn asked, moving into my path.
"Please, get out of my way."
"Tell me what's wrong."
"Dammit, I don't have time!"
"I want to help."
"Help?" I burst out laughing. "I'm about to lose my baking contract, the only thing that's keeping me afloat until the rest of the stores open down here, because my driver is the most unreliable person on the planet. I need to close — right now — and go make the delivery myself again before the world's most intimidating diner owner starts blackballing me to the whole town I just moved to." I let out a short, barking laugh. "So please, can you get out of my way now?"
"There's no need to close," Jackson piped up.
I turned and gaped at him. "Didn't you hear me? I have to go make this delivery."
"I know, but you don't have to close the shop to do that." He gestured at Finn. "One of us will stay."
Finn glanced at him, then ran his tongue over his teeth before turning back to me. "That's right. We got you."
"I don't need help," I protested.
"Sure you do," Finn replied. "In fact, I can make the delivery if you need me to. My house is out that way."
I shook my head. "No, I can do it."
"So we'll take care of things here," Jackson said calmly. "Don't worry about it Bee."
I glanced from him to Finn. Every part of me strained to protest this, to send them away and tell them I could take care of myself. Zach's voice in my brain cleared its throat, ready to remind me that I wasn't cut out to do anything on my own. I was too fragile, too helpless. Too naive and child-like to ever be able to live my life separately from him.
But I was stuck. I needed to go. And Finn had his feet planted stubbornly. "Fine. It's not like you're going to sell anything anyway," I groused. I glanced at them both again. "I'll be right back."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jackson
"What?" I sighed as I felt Finn glaring at me.
"Go home," Finn growled. "I've got this."
"What if I don't want you to have it?"
"Are you trying to be menacing?" Finn laughed. "I know all your tricks, dude. You can't intimidate me."
"I'm not trying to intimidate you."
He stepped forward. We were eye-to-eye, noses inches from each other and for a moment I was transported back to the night we met. It was at my favorite haunt, the place the line cooks always headed to after a bruising service. We'd had our asses handed to us, one of those nights where one issue spirals into another until everything cascades down and you're buried.
And it was my fault. I knew that, even though the rest of my — well I wouldn't call them buddies — co-workers weren't saying anything. They didn't need to. I was beating myself up just fine without their help.
I spotted the girl from across the bar — funny how I don't even remember how she looked. But her dress was silver. That I do remember. I slid off my barstool, needing something to distract myself from how badly I'd fucked up that night, and sidled my way over to her.
I think I made some crack about her looking like an astronaut, and wondering if she wanted me to take her out of this world. It was a corny line, definitely not my finest work, but I was sloppy drunk and sorry for myself so it was the best I could do. I leaned in and asked her what she wanted to drink, when I felt something touch my arm.
I don't react like that anymore, but back then... well... I didn't really like being touched my strangers. Too many memories. So I defended myself.
That's all it was. I wasn't actually punching Finn over the girl. I was punching him for invading my space.
Turns out he ended up invading a lot more than that. He invaded my brain, forced me to stop drinking so much. He invaded my routine, insisting I was too damn gifted to languish in the char houses and steak joints that littered the city. He invaded my life, dragging me out and forcing me to be social with people. He was the reason I met Mercy in the first place, and even though that ended as badly as it could, I still owed him big time for making it happen. He was the reason I was here now, starting over again with his help and the money he'd bankrolled after years of trading derivatives. He was the reason for some of the bad, but the majority of the good in my life.
Finn was pushy and abrasive and all together a pain in my ass. But I'd have gone nowhere fast if I hadn't met him that fateful night six years ago.
"You gonna break my nose again?" Finn snarled now.
I couldn't help it. I grinned. "Nah," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I think I fucked it up well enough the first time."
Finn's eye twitched, and then his lip curled. He snorted and then stepped back. "Fucking hell," he swore. "You really are a dick."
"If I did break it right now," I mused. "Would you spend the rest of the day with tissues shoved up your nostrils while we got drunk together?"
"Nah, that was a one-time only deal," he laughed, sighing. "What the fuck are we doing, dude?"
I shrugged. "Helping Bee?"
His eyes softened a bit. "Yeah. Okay."
"She can't lose that contract."
"Sounds like business isn't great. You know what we should do?" Finn burst out, and I saw it. That manic idea factory of a mind of his already rocketing forward five or six steps from the present. "Get her some more contracts."
I was about to scoff when I remembered who I was talking to. "You have something in mind?" I said instead. Because if anyone in the world had something like that up his sleeve, it was Finn Walker.
He nodded slowly. "I think I do." He raised an eyebrow.
I was nodding too, until it hit me what he was saying. "Wait. Us?"
"Think about it." His eyes shone in manic glee. I swear to god the guy was a junkie for control. Give him something he could take over and micromanage and he was happier than a pig in shit. "You hate desserts. We were gonna hire a pastry chef anyway. Why not?"
I shook my head. "She seems like she wants to do this on her own terms," I said carefully.
"Huh." Finn stared off into the distance for a sec. That was one good thing about him. As quickly as his ideas came on, he just as quickly let them go when they turned out to be unworkable. "Okay then." He gestured to the display case. "Let's sell this then."
I licked my lips. A crumb of honey bun still hung in the corner of my mouth and once again I was blinded by the sheer genius of her simple recipe. I reached into my back pocket and dug out my wallet. "Here, grab me another one, of those" I told him as I went to the cash register. "I'll be her first customer."
&
nbsp; Finn grabbed a sheet of waxed paper and one of the flakey, glazed pastries from the display case, then handed it to me. "All double meaning aside, her buns really are fucking delicious," he observed.
I rang in the sale and then looked at it. "I know. So simple too. But the execution is where it shines." I took a bite and stared off into the distance as I chewed thoughtfully. "I think... wait do you have a piece of paper?"
"Bee does," he said, reaching over to grab the jot pad by her register. "What are you...?"
I held up my finger as I started taking notes, my heavy scrawl filling up the paper as I chewed. Finn fell silent, watching me.
When I was done, I sat down at the chair and cradled my head for a moment. Finn came up behind me and peered over. "Oyster in sesame marinade," he read. "Dry shot. Tempura shrimp with Meyer lemon and cranberry. Crispy nest of… Cereal? No hands...? Snow?" He looked at me. "What does it mean?"
I shook my head, eyes widening as I reread what I'd just written. "I don't really know," I said slowly. "But I'm going to be heading into the kitchen really soon so I can find out.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bee
"Hey, you need help with that?"
I looked up from yanking my dolly out of the back of my beat-up truck to see who was calling me from the loading dock. "Oh! Hey there!" I called, startled.
Charlie did a double take, the coiled knot of curly blonde hair on the top of her head bobbing wildly from side to side. "Hey, you live on my block, right?" she asked, squinting at me. Her sharp blue eyes had deep, dark circles underneath them.
I set the dolly down, grateful for the break. "I do!" I said, feeling winded. "You're Charlie, right?"
She squinted. "Um, I'm terrible with names and my kid has sucked my brain out of my body."
I giggled. "He looks too cute to be a brainsucker."
She rolled her eyes. "Being cute is what saves him," she sighed. "Quick, tell me your name before I forget to ask and we have to get introduced all over again."
"Bee," I said, yanking off my work glove and extending my hand. "Short for Beatrix. My mother had a Peter Rabbit fascination."
She started laughing. "Ha! Charlie," she said, taking my hand. "Short for Charlotte. Guess what book my mom was obsessed with?"
Her bright laugh lit up her whole face, and I started laughing right along with her. "Here's to our literary moms," I snorted against my hand.
"Either they're literary or really uncreative, I'm not sure," Charlie mused. "But what are you doing here, Bee? Where's Nick?"
"MIA," I grunted. I wiggled the dolly underneath the carefully packed box and when it finally slid in at the right angle I pumped my fist in silent triumph.
"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, huh?" Charlie observed. "Here, hand that to me, I've got it."
"Thanks," I gasped as she caught the box that was teetering at the top of my stack. "I don't want the rolls getting bruised." I lowered my voice conspiratorially. "I'm kind of terrified of Spiro, if I'm being honest."
"He doesn't pay me enough to be terrified of him," Charlie snapped. "Cheap ass docked my pay because the register was short yesterday."
"That's terrible!" I sympathized as I wrestled the dolly up the ramp.
"Mm hmm. And it's not the first time either." She took another box from the top of my dolly, making it even easier to push into the storeroom. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I need a new job," she complained.
"I'd say you do," I whispered back. "Are you looking?"
"No one is hiring," she sighed, effortlessly opening the boxes and tossing the rolls into pre-laid-out baskets, six apiece. Her movements were quick and precise and she didn't drop a single one. I was mesmerized. "Besides," she went on, folding the napkins over the baskets. "I've been working in this restaurant since I was in high school. Since before I had Malcolm. It's the only job I've ever had... only thing I'm good at, honestly."
There was a bruised sort of sadness in her words, heavy with regret, that I recognized. Without realizing, I felt myself stepping forward, stretching my hands out to hug her, but I caught myself beforehand and settled for brushing my hand on her upper arm. "You seem like you're really good at it though," I said.
She shrugged. "Yeah, well. Doesn't matter much anyway. Spiro still finds reasons to yell at me all the time. I give shit right back to him though," she declared, perking back up again. "In a way, we're almost friendly like that."
I felt myself smiling at the way her face lit back up again. If there was ever someone who deserved to be described as sunny, it was Charlie. "Hey," I told her. "If ever you want to bring Malcolm by my shop, I'll hook you up with a free cupcake. Does he like chocolate?"
She grinned. "Actually, no, weirdly enough." She licked her lips. "But I sure do."
I laughed. "Okay well I'll hook you up too."
"I'm gonna hold you to that."
"Please do."
"Charlie?" A breathless bus boy rushed back to the storeroom. "There you are. Spiro's on the warpath."
Charlie heaved a big sigh and rolled her eyes at me. "Again?" she asked, and I snorted.
"I'll see myself out," I told her. "It was nice meeting you for real."
"You too, Beatrix."
"Bee," I corrected. "Only my mom calls me Beatrix."
She grinned. "Your literary, uncreative mom."
"That's right." I wavered in the doorway. It had been ages since I'd talked to another girl like this. All my girlfriends were Zach's friends too, and when it came down to it, I lost more than my marriage and my family when I finally stood up to him. I lost my friends too. "See you soon!" I called, feeling wistful.
She lifted her fingers in farewell, but her attention was already directed to the front of the diner. I heard her shout something, and then she disappeared around the corner.
I hauled myself up into the driver's seat of the delivery truck and crossed my fingers, but it started up right away.
As I pulled out and drove across town, my heartbeat started to quicken as I remembered what I was driving back to.
Finn and Jackson.
They'd said they'd take care of my store. They offered to help, and from what I could tell, they weren’t after anything in return.
But what did I want? My breath quickened every time I was near them, my heart threatening to bang out of my chest. Every sensation seemed to be amplified by them.
Them.
Both of them?
I ducked my head as tourists crossed in the crosswalk. Just on the off chance they could see into the truck and see how badly I was blushing at the thought. Me. Beatrix Henry. Married at eighteen to the only guy who'd ever touched me, the only one who'd ever even shown an interest. I'd been with Zach, and only Zach, since I was fourteen years old. I'd married him and never planned on wanting anyone else.
Now I wanted...two?
Just the thought made me blush so hard I felt like I'd been set on fire. Heat that had no business burning through me seemed to settle in my thighs, in my core. A heavy wanting pressed against my chest and I imagined it was from being pressed by them... between them... crushed in their embrace as they kissed me, one after another, touching me all over with their lips, their fingers, their hands, their...
"Jesus!" I yelped as a sudden blast of a car horn woke me from my stupor. "Sorry!" I yelled out the window. "I'm going! I'm going."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Finn
The second we locked Bee's shop behind us, Jackson made a beeline for the kitchen. All afternoon I'd sat in my office and listened to the banging of pots and pans, his muttering and his occasional shouting, as aromas both seductive and strange wafted into the front.
It was midafternoon, almost close to dinner time, when he emerged from the kitchen with a tired but triumphant smile on his face. "I've got something," he announced.
"No shit?" I asked, rising from my chair. The excitement on his face made my heart beat wildly. "A menu? For real? You decided on something?"
H
e nodded slowly, lost in thought. "It needs tweaking," he hedged. "But it's something. You'll see." He gestured for me to follow him back to the kitchen.
The instant I stepped back there, into his world, I knew it. He did it. Whatever mental block he'd built up in his head had crumbled away. I looked at the beautifully plated food arrayed out in front of me. Kyle appeared from somewhere in the back, craning his neck excitedly, but I barely took note of him as I looked down the line.
"Holy crap," I exhaled. "They're beautiful."
Jackson grinned.
"Great job, chef!" Kyle interjected. "I'm going to go down and start working on the wine pairings."
"Yeah, sure," Jackson said, both of us too wound up to really give a shit what Kyle was up to.
Already I was mentally taking pictures for the website. Each plate looked like a little piece of artwork. One plate I'm pretty sure was artwork, with a strange skewer embedded in the center. This was nothing like the rustic cooking he'd been putting in front of us at family meal.
"This is it," I told him, breathless. "I don't even need to taste it to tell you that. This is the shit I knew you were capable of way back when I first met you." I was so excited I whirled around and grabbed him by the upper arms and shook him. "This is the shit you can do that's going to make us fucking rich," I crowed.
He grinned proudly even as his molars clacked together with the force of my embrace. "Sounds good," he declared, extricating himself and extending his hand. "Something we need to talk about though."
I looked down at his hand and back up again. He tilted his head slightly to the right.
In the direction of Bee's shop.
Fucker. He knew how to play me so well. I was proud of him, ready for us to be a team again and stop this petty sniping. And he was capitalizing on it.
"We good?" he pressed.
I hesitated.
Then, with a deep breath, I closed my hand in his.
When I shook it, something passed between us, a conversation that went by entirely unspoken. I'm not sure how I knew we were okay all of a sudden, other than I just knew.
