by K. L. Ramsey
Wow is an understatement,” he admitted. "Hell, if I hadn’t taken his offer, I’d be dead now. He taught me the ropes and kept me safe,” Kill said. He thought about his friend still sitting in that prison and felt an unexplainable sadness that he had gotten out.
“Aw—a bad guy with a heart of gold,” Viv said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah, you could say that about a lot of the guys on the inside. I know this might sound crazy but I’m going to miss that camaraderie,” he admitted. As soon as he got out, he met with his probation officer who informed him that meeting with any type of club or gang would land him back in prison and he would do anything not to have that happen.
“Why can’t you join a club out here?” Viv asked.
“It goes against my parole. It would be considered a violation since trying to join a motorcycle club was what landed me behind bars, to begin with,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She reached out and placed her small hand over his forearm and his skin felt strange—almost like pins and needles. Yeah, he was going to have to find a woman and let off some steam if just a simple touch from his new boss set his skin tingling.
He pulled his arm free from her hand and pretended to stretch to cover his retreat. “No,” he said. “It’s just a part of what I have to do to stay on the outside— you know, find a job and a place to live and keep my nose clean.”
“How long have you been out?” she asked.
“About a week,” he whispered.
“Do you have everything you need?” Viv looked him up and down and damn if she didn’t look just as turned on as he felt. She cleared her throat, “I mean, did you find a place to live and all that?”
“I’m working on the job part first and staying in a motel that’s a shit hole, but the owner lets me rent by the week. I figure getting a job trumps a place to live if I can’t pay the rent. My friend said I could bunk at his place but he’s got a family and a new kid. The last thing he needed was an ex-con hanging around. After a few nights with his family, I felt like a nuisance. I made some apologies and came up with an excuse as to why I had to leave. It was just too much for me—going from a small prison cell with one roommate to a house full of people. I think Savage understood. At least, I hope he’s not pissed that I turned down his generosity and opted for my shithole apartment.”
Viv nodded. “You have a friend named Savage?” she asked.
Kill smiled at the fact that little piece of information was her takeaway. “Yeah,” he breathed.
“Well, um—you have a job,” she said. “As long as you’re okay with me calling you by your given name, Cillian. And if you need a better place to stay, I have a house about a block away. It was my grandmother’s.” She paused, “All of this was hers and she left it to me.”
“I’m fine with you calling me whatever you’d like. Hot Irish Guy, Kill or Cillian—as long as I have a job,” he said. “And, I’m sorry about your grandmother. Losing family sucks,” Kill said.
“It’s fine. She’s been gone awhile now but I think she would have liked you. She always routed for an underdog and you seem to be as down on your luck as they come. How about you move into my spare room? We can work out the details of pay and I can take your rent out of that.” He wasn’t sure what to make of her kind offer. On the one hand, he needed a place to stay long term and he had to admit that any place had to be better than the motel he was currently in. But, his gut was telling him that living under the same roof as his sexy new boss was a giant mistake. The last time his gut screamed at him that way was the night he decided to do the stupidest thing in his life and steal a car.
He ignored his gut and nodded. “Thanks, Viv,” he said. “I’ll take you up on your offer of the room and I can start now if you need.” He pointed back to where he remembered the kitchen to be located.
“Great,” she said. “You never answered my other question, you know.”
He thought back over their conversation, trying to pinpoint which question she was talking about. “Oh?”
“Yeah, the one about you having any cooking experience,” she reminded.
“It just so happens that you’re in luck, Darlin’,” he said. “I was put on kitchen duty while in the clink and I learned from the best fry cook you’ll ever meet.” Viv’s smile brightened up her tiny office.
“Perfect,” she beamed. “Let’s get you started.” She stood and led the way out of her office and all Kill seemed capable of doing was watching her sexy little ass sashay out. Yeah—he should have listened to his gut when it came to his hot as fuck new boss. He was a glutton for a punishment and Kill was pretty sure that having to live under the same roof as Viv, and keeping his hands to himself, was going to be a pretty big fucking punishment to endure.
VIVIAN
Viv wasn’t sure what the hell had gotten into her, inviting Cillian to move into her spare bedroom wasn’t her finest decision. Now, she was going to have to spend every waking moment in a state of perpetual horniness and that was going to be her stupid fault.
Hearing his story and seeing the sadness in his eyes, just about broke her heart. There was no way that she’d let him walk out of that diner tonight knowing that he was heading back to the shitty motel he was staying in. It wasn’t who her grandmother had raised her to be. And who was she kidding, it helped that she was completely taken in by his bad-boy charm and the sexy Irish biker thing he had going on.
The diner hummed to life before lunchtime, just as it usually did every day. She catered more to the lunch crowd and didn’t mind. In the evening, she got a lot of little league teams coming in for ice cream and snow cones. That was the best thing about living in the South, there was never a downtime for her business. When her Gram started the diner, it was just an ice cream parlor. Her grandmother spent some time up north one summer and fell in love with snow cones and came home to add them to the menu. After a while, people from town started coming in and asking if Gram had a lunch menu and the concept of the diner was born. Her grandmother poured her life savings into turning what was a simple place to get an ice cream cone into a full-fledge diner. They had their loyal customers and business never seemed to fall away.
Viv couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t want to run the diner. When she was little, her Gram told her that she should go to college and she could be whatever she chose to be but Viv would insist that she wanted to own the diner someday. When her dreams became a reality, she realized that owning a restaurant wasn’t as easy as her Gram made it look. The hours were grueling and didn’t leave much time for friends or dating, for that matter. She had a few steady boyfriends over the years but no one stuck. When she couldn’t give them what they seemed to want—her time, they took off. The only guy who stuck around was her ex-husband, Jason. Viv had a feeling that her grueling hours spent at the diner allowed her unfaithful husband to pursue other women around town. She was a fool and played right into his hands, but that was all in the past.
The entire day seemed to zip by and she spent it waiting tables with the New Kid and keeping a close eye on Cillian, making sure both were learning the ropes. She had to admit that Cillian seemed to know his way around a kitchen and everyone raved about his chili during the lunch rush. She was sure that hiring him had been a good call but the rest of it—the part where she asked him to move into her house and rent her spare room, felt like the worst idea of her life. Still, she wasn’t a chicken and she wouldn’t back down from her offer. She had already made it and there would be no going back now. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be responsible and make sure that there were some rules in place to keep her personal life private from her professional life. Viv needed to remember that Cillian James was a part of her professional life—period.
“Ready to head out?” she asked, turning the corner into the kitchen. “Wow—I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place cleaner,” she said. Cillian looked up from where he was washing the last big pot and smiled but she noticed it didn’t touch his
eyes. Maybe a twelve-hour shift was too much for his first day. She suddenly felt bad for not giving him more breaks and reading the signs she was pushing her new employee too hard.
“You look tired,” she said.
“Thanks,” he grouched. “I’m just not used to a full day’s work. We usually had to work a four-hour shift since they didn’t want to let us out of our cages for too long unless it was necessary.”
Viv wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Well, good news—it’s quitting time. We can head home and you can get settled.”
Cillian loaded the clean pot on top of the pile of others and wiped down the sink. She wasn’t sure he was going to say anything so she turned to head back to her office to grab her things. She shut down her laptop and packed her bag, shutting off the lights and closing her door, to walk straight into a wall of muscles and tats—Cillian.
“Woah—” he grunted, his arms banding around her middle to help steady her.
“You keep doing that,” she complained. “You need a bell around your neck or something to warn others that you’re on the move,” she teased. Cillian laughed and she realized that he still had his arms around her waist. She looked down at them and back up at him, trying her best to cock her eyebrow.
“You okay?” he asked. “Your face is doing something weird.”
“I’m fine,” she said, swatting his arms away from her. So much for her subtle hints about him touching her. She was just going to have to come right out and say what she was thinking.
“Listen,” she started.
“Shit, I’ve been out of the whole scene for a while, but if I remember correctly when a woman starts her sentence with ‘listen’, things get ugly,” Cillian said. “We have a problem here?” he asked.
Viv wanted to insist they didn’t but they did—a huge problem. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not but you’re a nice-looking guy,” she said. God, her heart was beating like a teenage girl and she was sure the next time she opened her mouth, she was going to vomit.
Cillian puffed out his chest and stood a little taller and Viv could feel her eyes roll. “Thanks,” he said.
“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous,” she said. “I was going to try to make this less uncomfortable for both of us but I’ll just lay it all out there. We need ground rules.” She felt as if she was holding her breath, waiting for Cillian to start laughing or make fun of her, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded his agreement.
“Wait—you don’t think I’m crazy for wanting rules for us to co-exist under the same roof?” she questioned.
“Nope,” he said. “I think it’s a perfect idea. I mean you and I don’t know each other and as you’ve pointed out—I’m attractive.” He paused to bob his eyebrows at her and she giggled. “And you’re sexy as hell—so I’d say ground rules are in order.”
“Wait,” she whispered. Her brain was backtracking, trying to grasp what he had just said. If Viv wasn’t mistaken, he had just called her sexy as hell. “What did you just call me?”
Cillian tapped his finger to his chin as if he was thinking hard about something and she felt about ready to slap him. “I believe I called you ‘sexy as hell’.” He winked at her and took her bag. “So, these ground rules,” he prompted. “Want to tell me about them on the drive home?”
“No,” she protested, although just what she was saying no to was beyond her. Viv felt all turned around and completely off her game around Hot Irish Guy and it was starting to piss her off. “Yes,” she growled.
Cillian had the nerve to chuckle as he held the front door open for her. “Which is it?” he asked. “Yes or no?”
“Yes, I want to go over ground rules but no, I didn’t drive here. I told you my house was just up one block, right?” He nodded. “Well, I walk here most days,” she said. “We can go over the rules on our walk home and then you can pack your stuff at the motel and move it over. I can give you a hand if you need.” The only thing Viv wanted to do with the rest of her night was to take a hot shower and crawl into bed, but she was willing to help Cillian out to get him settled.
“No need to help,” he said. “Everything I own fits inside of a small duffle bag.” Viv locked the front door to the diner and was once again at a loss for what to say.
“Sorry,” she said.
“For what?” he questioned.
“For everything,” she said. “I seem to be saying all the wrong things since we’ve met. Truth is, I couldn’t even begin to fathom what you have been through and I’m not sure what the protocol is for polite conversation around you.”
“I’m not a polite conversation kind of guy, if you haven’t noticed, Boss,” he said. “I mean, I’m your employee now and I just told you that you’re hot.” He was right, she was blowing things way out of proportion, just as she always had and she was possibly going to scare off one of the best cooks the diner ever had.
“I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day and I need about two days' sleep to get caught up. I promise I’m not this shifty,” she said.
“So rules—what’s the first one?” Cillian asked as if getting them back on track.
“Well, you are welcome to use the entire house and you’ll have your room but we are going to need to share a bathroom. So, I think we should work out some sort of schedule?” she offered.
“As in I’ll need to plan for when I will need to use the facilities?” Cillian teased. “I’ve been well trained—prison will do that to a guy, but I can’t time that stuff.”
“No,” she said. “I meant for showers.”
“Thank God, because if I have to guess every time I’m going to have to take a piss, I’d need to hire a psychic. Okay, so no fortune teller needed and rule one works for me. I can take a shower around your schedule, it’s not a big deal. I hope to join a gym and might even shower there, just to help out with water and such.”
“Are you usually this considerate?” Viv asked.
“No,” he admitted. “I’ve been told I’m a class A asshole, but I’m in your debt for giving me not only a job but a place to stay.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “I’m happy to help and with the way my customers loved your food today, I think I should be the one thanking you. I don’t know what I would have done today if you hadn’t come along. I probably would have had to shut the diner down until I could find help.”
“Let’s just call it a draw. It was a win-win for both of us,” Cillian said. They turned the corner and when she got to the front of her house, she suddenly worried if he was going to like it as if that mattered.
“So, this is me,” she whispered. “Well, I guess I should say ‘us’.”
“It’s so nice,” he said. “You said it was your grandmother’s?”
“Yep, and I moved in after my mom died and my dad took off,” she said. She had never told anyone else that part about her life. “Sorry, that was too much information.”
“Listen, we’re going to be living in the same house and we’ll need to know things about each other. I’ve already told you just about all there is to know about me,” Cillian admitted. Somehow, Viv didn’t quite believe him. She was betting that he hadn’t even scraped the surface.
“How about you go and grab your stuff and I’ll make us something to eat. Will it take you long?” Viv asked.
“No,” he said. “As I said earlier, I don’t have much.” She nodded and unlocked her front door.
“I’ll have a key made for you tomorrow. Let me give you a quick tour and then you can get settled.” Viv led the way into the kitchen and took her bag from him, noting the way his eyes flared when her fingers brushed over his hand. “This is the kitchen and if you go through that door, it leads to the family room and then the back yard. Upstairs, there are three bedrooms and of course, the shared bathroom I told you about. Feel free to pick which one of the spare rooms you want. They are both pretty much the same—bed, dresser, closet—you get the idea. It’s not much but it’s mine.”
“No problem, Cillian.” she turned to open the refrigerator, trying to find anything else to do rather than staring at the sexy man filling most of her kitchen. Having a roommate was going to take some time to get used to. Having Hot Irish Guy as a roommate was going to take every damn ounce of her willpower and then some.
_______
Cillian took about an hour to run back to his motel and pack his stuff and when he pulled up outside her house on his Harley, she nearly swallowed her tongue. She had a weakness for men on motorcycles and her grandmother was right, she liked a bad boy. Cillian James seemed to be as bad as they ran—well almost. He was also the sweetest man she had ever talked to, although she was pretty sure he’d bulk at that description of himself.
Viv watched as he parked his bike in her driveway and when he started for the house, she ducked out of the front window and ran back to the kitchen and even banged some pots around, for good measure.
“Hey,” he interrupted, dropping his bag onto the corner chair. “It smells great in here,” he said.
“It’s just some baked chicken.” She shrugged, looking at his bag that held everything he owned. “You weren’t kidding about not having much,” she said nodding to his bag.
“Yep, I travel light,” he teased. “What can I do to help?” Cillian took the plates from her and set them on the table.
“Grab the silverware and the bottle of wine from the fridge,” she ordered.
“You have any beer?” He asked. “I’m not much of a wine drinker. Hell, I’m not much of a drinker at all. They don’t serve alcohol in prison, you know.”
“There might be a few in the back from—” she was about to say from her last boyfriend, but that didn’t seem appropriate conversation between an employee and employer. This was new territory for her and she wasn’t sure what to say or do.
