High Stakes

by Lory Wendy

  “You too,” he replies but stays put. “I’ll feel better when you drive off safely.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I don’t even argue with him that I’ll be fine. All the guys that work here are the same: overprotective. Unlocking my door, I sigh in relief when I kick off my right shoe and dig my toes into the floor mat before resting it on the gas pedal.

  Vibrating with the joy of getting to sit down, I turn the key in the ignition.

  I'm met with silence.

  Panic sets in immediately. I turn the key again. And again. All I hear is a tick, tick, tick.

  "No, no. Come on, baby, come on,” I chant, turning the key over and over. "This isn't happening."

  With a yank to the knob that pops the hood, I scramble out of the car. My phone doubles as my flashlight as I check for the only two things I know to do: that the engine has oil and the radiator has coolant.

  They do.

  “Maybe the battery died,” Terrence offers in suggestion.

  "It's a new battery.” I drop my head in my hands. This car’s only a couple years old, the battery months old, nothing should be wrong with it.

  “The transmission?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s a bartender, not a mechanic. Given my state of mind, his suggestions are doing more to annoy me than help.

  “You have AAA, right?"

  I dip my head, not having the strength to give a full nod. My dad always made sure I had AAA since the first time I drove. The habit has stayed with me. Thank God. "It's late, though. I’ll get an Uber or something,” I say, praying my phone doesn’t die before I can. “I'll just deal with this” —I wave to my car— “tomorrow.”

  Tires crunching over a patch of gravel grab our attention as the back windows of a sleek black car roll down. “Selena, you okay?"

  I shake my head at God’s sick sense of humor. Of fucking course he would roll up right now.

  Hopping out of the car, Julian peels off his suit jacket and throws it in the back seat before he struts over to us in a real life slow motion move.

  “What’s going on?” Julian bends under the hood.

  He says something else, but damn, I’m too distracted to listen. I tip my head in the opposite direction, enjoying the view of his ass. Nice.

  “Selena?”

  “Huh? What?” I snap my head away from my ogling. He’s grinning but still hunched over my hood. Deflect, dammit. "Do you even know anything about cars?"

  “I do, but I can't see shit in this light. And it's getting late.” He drops the hood, frowning. “I can take you home if you want.”

  “Yes please.” As much fun as parking lot pimping it at my job, in heels, and after an almost six-hour shift is, I'd rather be at home. “So… uh, thanks.” I look back at Terrence who’d been standing here this whole time—useless. “Goodnight.”

  “Yup.” He nods, face harder than normal, but I’m too tired to care too much about it.

  “After you.” I tap Julian’s hand.

  More tired than I realized, my eyes droop the minute my ass hits leather. The seats are smooth like butter and hug me, welcoming me as one of their own.

  My eyes fly open when I realize I’m falling, and it takes me a few seconds before I realize we’re not in the club parking lot anymore.

  “Be careful,” Julian laughs from the outside of the car while holding the door open.

  “Huh?”

  “I didn’t realize you were leaning so hard against the door. You almost fell.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry,” I murmur, a little disoriented.

  “God works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?” Julian asks, offering me his hand to help me out.

  All I can muster up is an eyebrow raised in acknowledgment and a grunt of confusion when I see we’re parked in my driveway. I take his outstretched hand and climb out of the car. “What?”

  “I’m just saying, look at the lengths he had to go through to get us to spend more time together.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you messed up my car so you could have an excuse to talk to me and take me home. How’d you know where I lived anyway?”

  “Messing with your car? Not my style, sweetheart. But a good way to thank me for saving you would be to let me take you to breakfast."

  “Breakfast?"

  “Yeah.” He smiles, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning against the car. “I happen to know you do not work tomorrow. So this serves as an all-day invitation for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Your choice."

  “For starters, you didn't actually do anything to save me,” I tease. “And more importantly, knowing my car, my schedule, and where I live"—I wave my hand in the general direction of the house—"quantifies as a stalker in about fifty states and several countries, I'm sure."

  He chuckles but doesn't respond to my teasing. "Have a good night. I'll see you for breakfast."

  “I didn't say yes."

  “Are you saying no?"

  Giggling, I walk off without an answer and get to the door just as Blaire flings it open.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice is frantic, eyes darting around like they’re searching for something. “I’ve been calling you! Rocky texted me and told me Julian was taking you home because you had car issues. How is that possible? It’s practically a brand new car!”

  “I know.”

  “Well, Julian… he didn’t try anything, did he?” She cranes her neck to look over my shoulder. “He wasn’t bothering you, right?”

  I look back to see what she sees and watch as Julian climbs back into the car with a two-finger wave and a wink as they drive off.

  “Nope,” I answer her. “He wasn’t bothering me at all. Not at all."

  Morning finds me spread eagle, face down, and half-naked with one foot hanging off the side of my bed. I’d managed to peel myself out of Blaire’s dress last night but lost all energy to put something on before I threw myself on top of the sheets.

  Rolling over, I reach for my phone and, noticing the time, roll back over to hug my pillow. It’s too early to deal with… anything.

  My plans for the day will involve catching up on all the sleep I’ve been deprived of these past six days and then sleeping some more.

  Less than an hour later, my plan is interrupted by someone ringing the doorbell.

  “Blaire!” I call out for her.

  No answer.

  “Come on, answer the door,” I beg.

  Still nothing.

  Well, I’m not expecting anyone and not in the mood to move, so I grab a pillow and cover my head with it. Let this be a lesson to whoever’s at the door to never show up somewhere unannounced.

  Time passes.

  Sleep returns.

  Dreams fill my mind—some good, some really good.

  I feel myself smiling, in real life, when one particular dream plays out. Julian and I are at the beach, running around like a bunch of lovesick teenagers. He lifts me up, throwing me into the water, only to pull us both under and pepper kisses all over my cheeks.

  I wake up suddenly when something very real flutters against my face. “The fuck?”

  Blaire’s creepy smile shines back at me. “Good morning, sunshine.”

  “What the hell are you doing in my room looking like the fucking Joker?”

  “There’s something for you in the kitchen.” She bounces on my bed. “It was waiting for you outside when I got back from the gym.”

  “It was waiting?”

  “Come see.” She pulls at my arm.

  “All right, all right. Keep your pants on.”

  An obnoxious assortment of roses greets me as I round the corner of the kitchen.

  “How do you know they’re for me?”

  “The card.” She points to the boldly written SELENA, then reaches to grab the card from the bouquet. “Come on.” She shakes it, trying to get me to read it. “It’s a sweet gesture. You should call Pierce and thank him.”

  “Yeah—wait—what? How do you know they’re fro
m him?”

  “Who else would they be from?”

  “Julian.”

  She scoffs. “He doesn’t seem like the flower-sending type.”

  “How do you know what type he seems like?” I ask, both my voice and posture defensive.

  Her smile comes back as she fingers the petals. “It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re from Pierce.” She hands me the card again. Sure enough, it says they’re from him, and I try not to show how deflated I am that they aren’t from Julian.

  “I’m not interested,” I say.

  “But—”

  “I saw him last night at Lotus and he was a complete dick.” I point at the flowers, taking another step back. “You can keep the flowers, but I want that vase,” I say, making my way back to my room.

  “You are so ungrateful sometimes,” she calls out after me.

  I shrug and flip her off.

  A knock at the door stops me, and I rush to it, pausing with my hand on the doorknob. I don’t need to ask, something in me just knows, but I can’t resist messing with him. "Who is it?”

  “Who else would it be?"

  With an eye roll and giggle, I say, “Give me a minute.” Then I make a mad dash to my room to throw on some pants to accompany the random shirt I’d thrown on to check out the flowers.

  When I open the door, Julian's leaning against the wall—one hand in his pants pocket, the other playing with a cell phone.

  He looks damn good, but I would never tell his cocky ass that.

  “You didn’t get all dolled up for me, did you?”

  His head pops up with a smile. "And if I did?"

  “But you didn't."

  “Okay.” He rolls his neck from side to side. “I might have gone to church this morning. A friend of mine's son got baptized."

  “Church, huh? Did you pray for forgiveness for all your sins?"

  “That would take all day.” He winks.

  “I bet.” I bite down on my bottom lip to control the smile forming. "So what are you doing here?”

  “I came to pick you up for breakfast.”

  Clearing my throat, I take a moment to gather myself and breathe through my nose to slow down my rapidly beating heart. In his own way, I'm sure he thinks he's being sweet—and he is—but randomly showing up at my house is still a little weird. Persistent, sexy, and flattering, but still weird, not to mention pushy.

  “Okay, truthfully, I had another reason for wanting to come here.” He reaches into his pocket, producing my car key. I had almost forgotten all about my car troubles from the night before. “Should be all set now.”

  “Wow, thanks. What was wrong with it?”

  He falters for a moment. “I’m not sure, but my mechanic said it’s all good now. The battery looked new and he gave it a tune up but that’s it really.”

  “No spit shine? What a rip.” I laugh when he does too. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Let me take you out, and consider us even.”

  “You think I’m going to trade ass for my car being fixed?”

  “I said nothing about getting ass, but if you’re offering…”

  Shit, I hate when he trips me up. That came out the wrong way, but whatever. “I’m not offering,” I say. Not yet at least.

  “I'd love to go out for breakfast with you,” I speak softly, somewhat seductively. At least I think I'm being seductive. “But” —I pout— “I already ate.”

  If he knows I’m lying, he doesn’t show it. "Okay. Well, did this breakfast you mentioned, contain juice? Dessert? Coffee?"

  I chuckle and shake my head. "It did not contain coffee, actually."

  “Shame… Travesty really, and I think you should let me rectify that."

  “You are one persistent bastard, you know that?” I laugh, excited. “Some might even call you annoying or presumptuous."

  “And some consider persistence a good trait to have."

  I let my lips curve into a smile.

  I love this energy between us.

  Putting on a serious face, though, Julian pushes himself off the wall and grabs a hold of my hand. “Selena.” His voice is serious. "I may be a lot of things, but I assure you, presumptuous isn’t one of them. So I'm asking you, sincerely, to allow me to take you out. It doesn't get more innocent than coffee,” he adds with a teasing smile. “I'll behave. I promise."

  “You and 'innocent' and ‘behave’ belong nowhere near the same sentence.” I pretend to think about it, but there's no need. I knew I’d go just about anywhere he wanted to take me when he mentioned it last night. “Fine,” I sigh. “I suppose I can use a cup of coffee.”

  His face morphs with a genuinely surprised grin—almost as if he thought I might say no. It makes him a little endearing, the last word I would ever have thought I would use for him.

  “Just give me like… twenty minutes?” I ask him.

  “Take your time.” He squeezes my hand before dropping it. Then he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before walking off and telling me he'll wait for me in the car.

  I’m on a sort of cloud nine until I turn around to find Blaire staring at me and shaking her head. The look she’s giving me is fucking lethal, like she could melt me where I stand.

  “What?”

  “What was that about?” she asks.

  “Nothing.” I scurry off to my bathroom, cranking on my shower.

  “Where are you going?” She comes in behind me.

  “Out!”

  “With him? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  She doesn’t have to say it—I can tell she doesn’t like Julian, and she definitely doesn’t like him for me. Normally, her opinion on something like this would matter. Normally, it might have mattered so much that I’d find a reason to back out. But normally, I would never be getting ready for a date with someone as intense as Julian.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Your sister doesn’t like me,” Julian says with his stare glued to the rearview mirror.

  “She’s just being nosey.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe that’s all.” He adjusts the mirror, winks at me, then focuses back on the road. “Unless I misread the dirty look she gave me at the door.”

  “She wasn’t—”

  “Hovering behind you? Yeah, she was.”

  That’s not what I was going to say, but I’m pretty sure he knows that. It doesn’t matter. I’m not spending the day talking about Blaire.

  The ride is quiet for a good moment before I realize we’ve been driving for a while and we’ve passed a dozen restaurants and at least three coffee spots.

  “I thought we were going to get coffee?” I ask as the reflection of yet another coffee shop passes in the side mirror.

  Julian nods. “We are.”

  “Well, we keep passing a whole bunch of places I’m pretty sure have coffee.”

  “When you want coffee, and I mean a good cup of coffee, you go to the place I’m taking you, nowhere else.” He’s pretty serious when he says this, and I really, really want to tease him about his clear and deep love for coffee, but I let it go.

  About five minutes later, we pull up to what looks like a little Mom and Pop type restaurant covered with a beautiful mural. Two empty patio tables block the window, but I can still hear the tinkling of music coming from inside. It’s saxophone heavy. Jazz music maybe?

  “Where are we?” I ask when Julian steps around to open the door for me. The bright, red sign answers that for me. “Josephine’s?”

  “Trust me. Come on.” He places a hand low on my back to urge me forward, but that’s unnecessary. With the excited look in his eyes, I’d follow him anywhere.

  Several people around the restaurant greet Julian when we walk in, and he responds with smiles, waves, and a few head nods.

  He throws a hand up, curling his fingers in and out as if to call someone over. I crane my neck around to see a short, older woman walking over with a wide smile on her face.

  Julian stands up to greet her, giving he
r a kiss on the cheek. “This is Selena.”

  “Hi.” I wave.

  She gives me a subtle once-over before leaning in for a kiss on the cheek as well.

  Hushed whispers flow between them before she walks off with a secret smile.

  “You better not have been talking about me.”

  “Don’t worry, I wasn’t.” He shakes his head, but the grin on his face betrays him. “Actually, she did say you’re way too pretty for me.”

  “I love this lady already.”

  Grinning, he leans back in his chair. “So… where are you from?” he asks.

  “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t.”

  He shrugs as the older lady comes back and sets a small cup of coffee in front of me, some cream, and a bowl of brown sugar. I grab the mug and blow a little before bringing it to my lips.

  “Holy…” That’s some strong shit. I dump a large spoonful of sugar, followed by a good amount of cream in the cup before stirring. I take a sip and a moan slips through. This is a good cup of coffee.

  “I take it the moaning means you like it?”

  My head snaps up. I almost forgot Julian was here. To mask my embarrassment, I hold his stare, blow into the mug, take a sip, then moan again. He chuckles and shakes his head.

  “So, you grew up in Fort Collins?” Julian asks.

  And that’s when the easy moment goes up like the steam still coming from my coffee mug.

  “How do you know these things? All jokes aside now. My car, my house, where I’m from—how is it you know this?”

  “I asked about you,” he answers softly, sincerity lacing his voice. “After your first night at Lotus, I looked for you after closing, but you were already getting in your car. That’s how I know what you drive.”

  “Oh.” I guess that’s a plausible explanation.

  “I got your address from Rocky.”

  “Ah, I see, more stalker tendencies,” I try and tease, but the corner of his lip only twitches momentarily.

  “And as far as where you’re from. I actually didn’t know that. Your sister mentioned something, but I wasn’t sure if it was true or not.” With the skin between his eyes puckered and shoulders slightly slumped, he seems dejected, and for about two seconds, I feel bad.