“Thank you. That sounds like something my dad would say,” I said, giving him a half smile.
“Then your dad is obviously a genius, like me,” Brett said, his dimple flashing in his cheek. My brain short circuited over his smile.
“He is. How was your day at work?”
“It was ok. About like most. I stopped in at the bar on Legion Street and nabbed a guy we had a warrant out for. He gets wasted and beats up his wife, skips bail. So on lunch break, I just stopped over at one of his favorite places and happened to see him. We went to the station and pretty soon the judge refused to re-bond him thanks to his history. So tonight, his wife and kids can sleep easy.”
“You went on your lunch hour to look for some dirtbag who hits his wife?”
“Yeah.”
“Most people just go get a sandwich or something on break.”
“I got a sandwich afterward. I can do both,” he said with a shrug like it was nothing.
Had I found the only two old-fashioned gentleman left in the world? It was weird and amazing to talk to Derek and Brett, to notice their innate goodness, their determination to look out for people and stop the bad guys. They made me want to believe that most people were like them, when I knew otherwise.
“You two are like something out of an old movie. Like the Gary Cooper sheriffs, the good-looking lawmen who clean up a town and have excellent manners. I used to watch those westerns with my dad.”
“Thanks, I think. I mean, I think Gary Cooper’s dead, so I’m going to hope that was a compliment and not you saying that we both remind you of really old dudes.”
“Not at all,” I laughed, “I think it’s awesome.”
Derek entered with two enormous bags that smelled deliciously of garlic. My mouth watered, and I swallowed hard.
“Hi,” I said, “I was gonna take off, but Brett thought I should wait and say goodbye in person.” I wondered at once why I’d hung around there when it would be so much harder to tell them both goodbye together.
“No need to rush off. Have a seat, we’ve got plenty of Chinese for dinner,” Derek said, his easy smile making me want to stay even more.
I went to the kitchen and got napkins, asked if they wanted forks.
“I can use chopsticks. Brett here needs a shovel. Just grab the biggest spoon we’ve got,” Derek said.
I held up a soup ladle. Brett shook his head, “Fork’ll be fine for me. I need something better than a stick to eat with. If I was raised by wolves in the forest like this dude, I could probably manage it,” Brett teased back. I smiled, liking how at ease they were with each other, catching that same comforting feeling I’d had in the squad car—the easy rapport and playful spirit I felt with them.
I sat down and decided I might as well ask for what I really wanted, “Actually I was wondering—I know I’ve imposed enough already, but I wanted to ask you something. Would it be okay if I stayed here one more night? I report to my internship in the morning and then to a shift at my new waitress job. I’d spend my lunch break looking for an apartment, and if I didn’t find one, I’d stay at a motel until I do.”
“No,” Brett said. My face fell. I tried to nod, at like it was totally understandable, no big deal.
“We want you to stay,” Derek said.
“Not just one more night,” Brett put in, “We talked it over while we were on patrol this morning. Decided to offer you the extra room for as long as you need it.”
I couldn’t believe it. I jumped out of my seat in excitement. I hurried over to Brett, hesitated when I was about to hug him and just patted his shoulder awkwardly. I shifted my weight, grinning. Derek got to his feet, rounded the table and gave me a bear hug. I was dumbstruck by the fact that I could feel every ridge of his muscular torso through his t-shirt. I remembered to clap him on the back like a buddy and pulled back.
“Is that a yes?” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “as soon as you tell me what the rent is.”
“We can keep it pretty low. We’ve got this set up where the property taxes and the mortgage and everything is covered between the two of us, and we split utilities. I guess we can divide those three ways instead of two, and you can pay what you planned on spending on the room you intended to rent.”
“No way, this place is way nicer,” I said, “I don’t want any handouts.”
“You cook a really good breakfast. I’d be willing to take fifty bucks off the rent if you’d make breakfast once in a while,” Derek said.
“I’ll make breakfast once a week,” I said, “Sunday morning.”
“Deal,” he said, shaking my hand.
I sat down, grabbed some chopsticks and rubbed them together.
“You trying to start a campfire with those?” Brett asked playfully, scooping his food up with a fork.
“Nope. I’m trying to scrape off the splinters. I always do that with cheap takeout chopsticks.”
“Does it work?” Brett said.
“I never had a splinter in my tongue so I’m gonna say yes,” I said. Satisfied with my scraping, I scooped chicken and broccoli into my mouth and made a sound of approval.
We ate in companionable silence for a while and then Derek and Brett talked about a case they were both working, careful to avoid names to keep confidentiality around me. I knew they had to, but I was curious to know more, like the journalist I was.
“If you’re gonna talk about the case, I’m going to shower,” I said, “Otherwise I’ll ask way too many questions. I’ve watched a lot of Law & Order, and I’ll start trying to solve the crime.”
I went to sleep that night very happy. I had a safe, nice place to live. I liked my roommates, and I knew that Derek, at least, was attracted to me. There was nothing wrong with a little fun flirting as long as it didn’t go anywhere. It was harder to tell about Brett—he was more reserved, not as flirtatious. He seemed like a nice guy, like he had potential to be a good friend. Although he’d definitely be the sexiest friend I’d ever had. I would have to get my hormones under control if I didn’t want to act like an idiot around them, drooling when they were shirtless or working out or generally walking around the loft . I wasn’t the kind of girl who ogled men. At least, I thought I wasn’t until I met these two hunky cops. The next thing I knew, I was having a naughty dream about Derek—the two of us working out together, Derek showing me how to lift kettle bells, one thing leading to another, and then Brett walking in! When I woke from that dream, my face was hot with either embarrassment or arousal. I was afraid to wonder which one.
5
For a part-time gig, the unpaid internship at Envy kept me busy. I learned so much at the first staff meeting that I got into the habit of going to any meeting I was invited to. I got to know a lot of the writers and designers, and I even got to sit in on a marketing meeting for the web site. I did a lot of responding to unsolicited emails and spec articles with a polite not-at-this-time message. I picked up coffee and people’s lunches, went to the post office a couple of times and once to a pharmacy to pick up a prescription for an editor who was in a meeting. I’d learned the bus route pretty well with my car out of commission, and I started to wonder if I should just sell my car when it was repaired.
The only problem I really had was making it to my waitressing job on time. Theoretically I could make it if I left the internship on time. But I didn’t want to be unprofessional by leaving an email half-written or skip a stack of copies I’d promised to do that day. So more often than not, I had to run from the bus stop and still walked in a few minutes late. The fourth shift in a row that I didn’t report until nearly ten minutes after my shift started, the manager pulled me aside.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I should have left earlier.”
“You seem to be having trouble balancing your responsibilities at the magazine with your shift here,” Ben said. He wasn’t unkind. I was pretty lucky that I hadn’t been given a work-ethic and responsibility lecture before the fourth day in a row.
“What if we
adjusted the schedule so I started half an hour later, but I stayed to do the vacuuming or work on the dishes or something for an extra half hour?" I offered.
“We have cleaning staff. We have dishwashers. What we need is a server who arrives on time for her shift.”
“Am I being fired?” I shifted uncomfortably.
“According to company policy, you’re being formally reprimanded for tardiness. Three more tardies will result in automatic termination,” he said, “I don’t have a choice. I know you’re a good server, you get along with the other wait staff, and the customers like you. But you’re late every day.”
“This is my fault, Ben. I appreciate you giving me another chance. My car should be done tomorrow, and I sure as hell need this job to pay off the repair bill. Maybe with my own ride I can get here quicker.”
“Let’s hope so.”
I swallowed hard and my heart sank. I’d never been fired from a job before. I didn’t want to be the flaky, undependable waitress. But the internship was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and I wasn’t willing to give it up, or to shortchange that experience for a waitressing gig, when I could, realistically, get another job as a waitress, possibly with different hours. I just liked it there, liked the people on my shift, and the whole atmosphere. It was polished but not uptight, and no one tried to grope my ass, which was a hazard I’d run into before in that line of work.
When I went home after that shift, I was worried that I wouldn’t last the week. I sat at the kitchen table, chin in my hands, staring at the glass of water I’d gotten myself. I didn’t know what to do.
“Watching ice melt?” I heard Brett ask, “We have TV, you know. I’ll even let you hold the remote.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking up at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, not wanting to trouble him.
Brett flipped a chair around and swung his leg over it, facing me, “What’s up, buttercup?”
“I got a warning at work. I’ve been late four days in a row.”
“Your internship’s only part time, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the hold up?”
“I get all these opportunities to go to meetings and events, and I never let one pass me by so I can learn as much as I can while I’m there. So then I end up having to stay late to do my filing or copying or emails or whatever I promised to do. And the shift starts so close to when my time’s up at the magazine—the bus has been a lifesaver, but I still end up flat out running to get to the restaurant, and with having to cross at the light and—these all sound like bad excuses. I can’t seem to make it on time. And policy is that I’m fired in basically three days.”
“Have you tried telling the magazine people no? Like, I’d love to sit in on that but I have to finish my work?”
“I have. I just end up dawdling and wondering what’s going on at the meeting and I still barely get finished.”
“It sounds like you just want to be at Envy.”
“Well, right. I mean, that’s exactly what I want, but I have to make money so I can live.”
“What if you changed jobs?”
“I’m going to have to. I’ll look around for a place that lets the servers start a little later.”
“Why switch? Don’t you like this place where you work? Just see if they have a bartender opening. Tips are better at the bar anyway. I used to sling drinks when I was going through the academy. Made a damn fortune in tips on the weekends.”
I looked him up and down, “I bet you did,” I teased, “And the bar’s open later so I bet they have different hours. That’s not a bad idea.”
“I have those once in a while,” he quipped.
“I appreciate it. It was nice of you to take an interest. I mean, you guys helped me out when I needed it most, and I don’t want to interfere with your dynamic as roommates. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“If you were in the way, we wouldn’t have asked you to move in. I know it seems like Derek runs the show, and a lot of the time he does, but it was a mutual decision. And not just based on that frittata you made.”
“Thank you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think maybe you got railroaded into agreeing to keep me around.”
“You think I’m a pushover?” he said, a wry tilt to his eyebrows.
“No, not at all, I just think you seemed more cautious, more self-contained.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “I didn’t used to be. We can thank my ex-wife for that, I guess,” he said ruefully.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful,” I said, taking a long drink of water.
“No, it’s fine. I’m okay talking about it. Now.”
“It must’ve been really hard on you. I can’t—I haven’t known you long at all, but you seem like the least annoying person in the world, you’re calm and kind and respectful. I can’t imagine someone wanting to leave you,” I took another drink, and promptly choked on my water. My eyes watered, and my face turned red, not only from choking but from openly admitting how attractive Brett was to me, not just his looks but his demeanor as well.
He patted me on the back a few times while I got myself together. “I think you’re being generous. We all have our faults. Mine was that we were sexually incompatible. We were only together a few months before we got married, and it wasn’t until after we were married that I found out Sara was a submissive. She wanted me to be her dom, to—you probably don’t want that level of detail, sorry. It’s just something it took me a long time to make sense of.”
I wasn’t sure what the hell I was supposed to say to that. This was the most words Brett had strung together in my presence and it was more revealing that I’d ever expected him to be. I cleared by throat. “No, it must have been upsetting for you if that’s not, um, something you’re into.”
“It isn’t, and it never will be. I grew up with an abusive father. It’s part of where my protective instinct comes from, so there’s an upside to it, but hurting a woman, even a woman who wants to be hurt isn’t something I’m comfortable with. She was very frustrated with me, and she started to seek a dom outside our relationship, which was for the best really, but also felt like a betrayal on a very basic level to me.”
I reached across the table, covered his enormous hand with my small one. I shook my head.
“I’m sorry. To love someone and then find out you were never going to be compatible—I can’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine what that must have been like. But please know that there are plenty of women who like tenderness. I would hate it if you had turned yourself into something you’re not just to please her.”
“It was difficult. The kind of power games she played were not something I was going to understand. I guess I’m a simple man at heart,” he said with a self-effacing shrug, “And that wasn’t going to be enough.”
I rounded the table and touched his face. He looked vulnerable, like he was trying to hide it, like he was about to play it off with a macho posture, but I let my fingers trail along his cheek and looked into those eyes.
“Thank you for trusting me, for telling me,” I said, “And you’re more than enough for anyone.”
I brushed my lips against his. Heat rocketed through me. The gentle caress I intended to give him, part affection and part genuine attraction, got away from me. He reached up and cupped my head in his hand, guiding my mouth down to his. He tasted of cinnamon, and his tongue was hot in my mouth. I shuddered, felt myself turn liquid. And to think I’d considered him the quiet, unassuming one.
I drew back a little shyly.
“I hope I didn’t overstep boundaries,” I said, a little embarrassed. I’d honestly never been that turned on by a guy before, much less one I’d barely known more than two weeks.
“Not a problem. I’ve been attracted to you from the start, but I wasn’t going to act on those feelings.”
“That’s because I fell into an old Hollywood w
estern full of handsome gentleman lawmen,” I said with a shaky laugh. I couldn’t dismiss it as a joke, not when my knees felt syrupy with want.
This could get complicated.
6
I got up the nerve to ask Ben about a bartending position. I had scrambled in right on time, skipping a bathroom break I desperately needed and declining an offer to go out for drinks with staff writers. I yearned to hang out with staff writers. I imagined it would be glamorous, informative, and very grown up. Instead, I was trying not to pee my uniform while I asked the manager for a favor.
“I notice you made it in time,” he said.
“Yes. I’m sorry about all the trouble. You were right about this shift, as much as it pains me to admit I’m wrong,” I said as sweetly as I could.
“Is this you quitting?” he asked.
“Well, I have a question. Since I love it here but my punctuality with the schedule has been a problem, I wondered if there were any openings at the bar. I did bartend my last year in college at McGillicudy’s near campus and Reggie, the manager, can give me a reference. I thought maybe the hours would be slightly different.”
“We have two lunch bartenders already. We have three working evenings, but one of them is getting ready to go on tour with her band.”
“So there’s an opening?” I asked with my most winning smile. He laughed.
“We’ll try you out tomorrow night. The shift starts and hour later than the one you’re used to being late for, so try to be on time. I’ll schedule you on a trial basis for training. See if you can get the hang of the bar. There’s bar customers as well as service bar for the dining room, so it’s pretty hectic.”
“I can handle it. Thank you, Ben. I can’t wait.”
“Let’s hope you’re better at slinging drinks than you are at showing up on time,” he said sarcastically.
I smiled, gritting my teeth only a little.
One Lucky Girl Page 3
