His hold on me loosens along with the tension in his muscles. “’Night.”
I blink into the dark room. Leave it to me to go and fuck everything up. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. My dad was right. I’m better off seen and not heard. I’ll try to remember that from here on out, that is, if Cameron keeps me around after tonight.
~*~
Cameron
The alarm blares in my ears and finally pulls at my eyelids. There’s no way it’s already morning. It seems like I fell asleep minutes ago. I rub my eyes and can’t help but feel as though I’m missing something. I turn to the clock and slam the thing off. Six-thirty in the morning. I grab my pillow and roll over. I’ll catch a little more sleep before—a yawn forces a big inhale. Mmm . . . sweet and spice.
I blink open my eyes. Eve. Did she get up and leave? She didn’t have a car or money, so if she did, she’s on foot. I sit up and look around the room. Empty.
I run my hands through my hair and move to the bathroom. My eyes fix on the backpack that hangs from a hook by the shower. I take a deep, relieved breath. She’s still here.
While in the bathroom, I brush my teeth and wash my face then head out to find her. Maybe she woke early and went to watch TV. The house is silent until I hit the kitchen where mumbling voices filter in from the dining room. As I get closer, they become more distinct: Eve and Ryder. The clinking of silverware to plates fills the gaps in their conversation.
“How were you able to get into The Joint? I thought they were twenty-one and up?” Eve says through what sounds like a mouthful of food.
“They are, but we know a guy who hooks us up. As long as we don’t drink the booze, he lets us in.” Ryder’s going to clubs under age. Not exactly new information, but it pisses me off anyway. The last thing he needs is a criminal record to set him up for the future.
“You guys go, but you don’t drink?”
“We go for the music mainly. Some of the guys drink before, but I’m usually the designated driver.”
“You’re a lot more responsible than I was at your age.” Her low chuckle says that we don’t even know the half of it.
His age, so four years ago? Shit, these reminders of her age are like little sucker punches to the gut.
“Nah, I’m not a big fan of liquor. Makes good people act like jackasses.”
Eve hums her agreement. “What bands do you like?”
“Traverse is my favorite. Been trying to see them for years, but it’s impossible to get into their shows.”
“I saw them last summer.”
“No kidding. What were they like?”
“Ah-mazing. Cy Castro’s voice in real life is even better live than on the album.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” A utensil clanks on a plate. “Shit, I’m so jealous.”
“When they come back to town, I’ll try to get you tickets.”
“You could do that?”
She must nod. “Mm-hm. I know a guy who does security for all the big shows.”
She knows a guy? And why the motherfuck does that little slice of news make me want to break something?
“Really? That would be so fuckin’ cool.”
“Pass the syrup?”
“Here.”
“Thanks. If you like Traverse, you’d like my friend’s band, Ataxia.”
“I’ve heard of them. I think the lead singer fights for my dad.”
“Yeah, Rex. The band’s more mainstream than Traverse, but they have a similar style. They play at The Blackout all the time. I could pull some strings, get you in.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“That’s so kick ass.”
A few seconds of silence pass and I move to enter.
“You’re way cooler than the other chicks my dad dates.”
Oh fuck.
Eve coughs or chokes. She clears her throat. “Um . . . other chicks? Wow. Thank you? I think.”
“Oh no, he’s not dating anyone now. I just mean since he and my mom got divorced.”
I release the breath I was holding. She’s already worried that I’m playing her. Ry’s clarification was helpful, but I’m sure it was enough to get into her head.
Thankfully, she changes the conversation back to music, and I quit my eavesdropping and move to the living room. My stomach churns with unease. Listening to them talk is like being in the room while Ry and his buddies hang out. The bands, the shows, the venues, it’s like a foreign language that only the two of them understand.
I told myself I wasn’t going to let our age difference affect our hanging out, and here I am considering cutting her loose. Even as the thought passes through my head, my body jolts to stop that line of thinking.
No, we’ll be fine. I can look past the seventeen years that divide us, at least for as long as this thing between us lasts. Yeah, this can—
“Hey, when did you wake up?” Eve’s voice calls my eyes to her. She’s standing there in pair of baggy sweats and the same top she slept in, but now wearing a bra. No wonder Ry was able to have a coherent conversation. No way would he have been able to form complete sentences if she hadn’t.
“Just now.”
“I made French toast.” She gives me an uneasy smile. “I hope that’s okay.”
Her nervousness is so damn cute. “Smells good.”
She motions over her shoulder to the kitchen. “You want some?”
“Be great, babe.”
Ryder comes dragging into the room, his eyes looking as if they haven’t seen sleep in days. “Mornin’, Dad.” He passes me to the hallway, rubbing his belly. “Eve’s breakfast blows your egg whites and protein shakes out of the water. I’m gonna have to take a nap before I go out today.”
“Where are you going today?”
Ryder stops in the open mouth of the hallway and turns. “It’s Sunday.” He shrugs as if it’s the most common thing ever. “Me and the guys jam on Sunday.’”
“Right.” I run a hand through my hair, hoping Eve doesn’t pick up on my forgetfulness like Ryder’s expression proves he does. At least the kid is used to having to repeat himself to me.
Eve’s eyes follow him until he disappears behind his door, a small grin on her face. “Nice kid.”
Kid. Fuckin’ hell.
“You fed my boy.” Damn, that came out harsher than I wanted.
Her smile falls. “Oh, yeah, I mean when I woke up he was here, so I asked him if he was hungry.” She crosses her arms over her stomach and gnaws on her lower lip.
This is stupid. I’m thirty-eight years old and way too tired to deal with shit like jealousy and mistrust. Especially over my own son.
I grind down on my jealousy. “Nice of you.”
She seems to relax, drops her arms, and smiles.
I push up, walk over, and lean a hip against the counter. “You sleep okay?”
Like last night, she rushes to my side, her arms coming around my waist. “Slept great.”
I place my arms awkwardly around her back. It comes a little easier than it did last night, but not by much. “You work today?”
She tilts her head back, flashing those big eyes behind dark lashes. “I wasn’t supposed to, but I got called in for a manager meeting at ten. I’m going to try to pick up a shift after that, you know, after last night.” Her cheeks pink and she dips her chin.
She’s picking up a shift after her dad cleaned her out. My chest warms with pride at her work ethic and determination. How many twenty-one-year-olds would pull themselves up like this rather than beg for handouts?
Her finger traces the swirls of the tattoo on my bicep. “I should be done by lunch. If you don’t have plans, maybe we could do something?” She sucks in a tiny breath, but doesn’t release it.
“I have to go to the office for a few hours, but I’ll call you when I’m done.”
She nods quickly. “Yeah, of course, I figured you’d have plans. I just, I don’t know, I was just putting it out there in case you wanted to, but if you d
on’t, then I’m—”
I press my thumb against her lips. “Shhh. I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but before things go any further between us . . .” Fuck, how do I get this out without sounding like a dick? I take a few seconds to go over the words in my head before they fly from my lips. “The UFL gets most of my time. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and there will be days that I’m at the training center from sun up ’til sundown. I want to spend time with you, but I can’t give you all of me.” Even as the words resonate in my head, I hear the truth behind them. There will always be a part of me that lies tucked away from prying eyes. I’ll never be capable of anything beyond a surface relationship.
“I understand.” She brushes her hand along my jaw. “You’re lucky I’m pretty low maintenance.” A small frown tugs at her lips before she catches herself and forces a smile. “So on to breakfast and then you can take me home.”
“I have a better idea. Breakfast.” I swipe her thick bangs off her forehead. “Shower.” I run my hand down her back and cup her ass. “Grab a little dessert before you get dressed.” Her body shivers in my arms, and I press her against my hardening body. “Then I drop you at home.”
She licks her lips, her eyelids drop low. “I lo—er”—her eyelids flutter, chasing away the dreamy look—“I like that plan.”
I kiss her forehead. “Feed me.” I smack her ass, and she giggles into the kitchen.
This isn’t stupid. This is two adults having a good time. A little voice whispers I should break it off, but when I picture Eve with anyone else, imagine her back at her place with scumbags like her dad showing up, it makes me crazy. I’ll live in the now, take advantage of the fun that we have together until she starts hinting that she needs more. Then we can go our separate ways as friends so that I’m available if she needs me. Because no matter what, I’m keeping Eve in my life, even if I’m not able to really let her into it.
Eighteen
Eve
I’ve become that girl. The kind I hate. The one who floats around with a ginormous smile stretched across her face, as if she’s privy to an inside joke no one else gets. The girl who says hi and makes eye contact with everyone she comes in contact with just to make sure she gets her I’m-happier-than-you point across. Yep. That’s me. And I’d slap myself stupid if I weren’t so damn happy about being that girl.
After feeding Cameron my famous French toast, we took a shower that could’ve drained the Hoover Dam. I had no concept of time as we got lost in exploring each other’s bodies, hands, lips, and tongues; we feasted until we were stuffed. I got to study every intricate tattoo, trace every sinew, and taste that V I admired the night before. Along with a lot more. My tummy tumbles at the memory, my skin still tingles from his touch, and my thighs ache from holding myself around him while he drove into me.
A long sigh falls from my lips. Yeah, I’m totally that girl.
I arrive at work a few minutes early to see who’s on the schedule and what the projections are for how busy the lunch rush will be. I’m prepared to beg for a shift, banking on tip money to get me through the week until payday. Flipping through reservations at the hostess stand, I’m sidetracked by the front door opening.
“Hey guys, we’re not open until—oh, Mr. Cavat.” I smile, all teeth and aching cheeks—owed to Cameron—at the two men who enter. My district manager. What’s he doing here? “What brings you by?”
He’s usually only here at the end of the year for tax purposes. The rest of the time he keeps his finger on the pulse of the restaurant through email.
“Ms. Dawson, this is Seth Gamboni.” He nods to the man at his side who’s dressed in a collared shirt and black slacks, more business casual in comparison to Cavat’s power suit and tie. We exchange hi-how-are-yas.
“Is everyone here?” Cavat swings his gaze around the restaurant.
Everyone? He’s here for the meeting? We have impromptu manager meetings from time to time, but the GM has never been a part of them.
I motion for them to follow me to a private room off the main dining space that we use for large parties. The three other managers are in there, waiting. I take a seat with them, assuming this is Cavat’s show.
He drops down in a chair at the end of the table and clears his throat. “Thank you for being here on such short notice.”
We all mumble a “no problem” and wait for him to continue.
“I’ll make this quick.” He flicks a hand toward Seth. “This is Seth Gamboni. He’s going to be here observing for the next week.”
Observing? What the fuck? I take a quick peek at the facial expressions of the other managers and see they must be having the same reaction.
“I’d like for him to work with each one of you closely. If he has questions, answer them. If he offends you, get over it. We’re doing an audit of every restaurant in the Nori family of restaurants, and it’s your turn.” He leans back in his chair, almost as if he’s waiting for a response.
We all sit silent.
“He’ll start today and be here every day on varying shifts until this time next week.”
Everyone nods.
“Questions?”
“Why an audit?” The words fly from my lips before I have a chance to bite down on them.
“Because I said so.” Cavat smiles, as if he thinks treating me like his kid is hysterical.
Asshole.
I shrug off his belittling. “No, I mean was there a complaint? Are there concerns about how things are being run?”
Cavat and Seth look at each other and then turn back to us.
Seth straightens his big, shiny watch. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, Ms. Dawson, and everything should be fine.”
My stomach drops. Why does the way he said that make me feel as if things are far from fine? I’ve been working here since high school, and I’m sure I haven’t always been the picture of employee perfection, but I always get the job done.
He covers a few more minor issues like new uniforms and a change to how we report our numbers before he finally dismisses us. As much as I’d hoped Cavat would leave, he ends up sticking around for lunch. I begged a few of the servers for their shifts, but go figure, with the presence of the GM, no one wanted to be labeled a slacker and take the day off.
Shit. My smile wiped clean from my face, I decide to go home and dig through old purses for money. With Seth in the restaurant all week, my chances of picking up a shift are minimal. Looks like those extra stubborn pounds I’ve been trying to shed will come off by involuntary starvation. I groan. Fabulous.
~*~
Cameron
Days have passed since I’ve seen Eve. Although we’ve talked on the phone a few times, it’s been brief, and my body’s beginning to register her absence. It’s not that I haven’t gone long stretches of time without female companionship. I have. But Eve’s like a habit I can’t break. No amount of time spent with her ever feels like enough, and mere memories of her sweet body have made me hard hours and even days after we’ve been together.
What the fuck is up with that?
With a two-hour break in my day, I plan on hitting the weights hard with hopes of exhausting myself along with the drive to see Eve. She works the closing shift at her restaurant tonight, and I’m not some needy prick who’s going to show up at the end of her shift and drag her back to my bed. Or shit, maybe I am. I scribble a note in my planner to find out what time Eve gets off and then head to my car to get my gym bag.
It’s hot today, hovering around 110 degrees, but thankfully my car is parked in one of the three covered spots reserved for the CEO and VIPs. I’m in my trunk, grabbing my shit when I hear angry voices from across the lot.
“You touch my ride, you little punk ass bitch?”
It’s Reece and one of his boys being difficult as usual. They’re in Killer’s face again, most likely about something completely made up. Lopez has his phone up, is he videoing this? Fucking juveniles. I can’t figure out why they have it out for Killer, but
it’s getting old.
“I didn’t go anywhere near your car, man.”
I hang back at the sound of Killer’s voice. If he wants to be accepted as an equal, he’s going to have to stand up for himself. It won’t do him any good for me to swoop in and protect him. I’ll watch how he handles himself, and if Reece takes it too far, I’ll make sure to stop it.
“Nice try, slut. There’s a mark on the side of my car that wasn’t there this morning.” Reece looks back to Lopez, who’s making no attempt to cover up how hilarious he thinks this is.
Man, these guys need to get their asses kicked. Not in the octagon, but in a straight-up bare-knuckled street fight.
“What’s your problem, Reece? Every day you find some reason to get all over my ass about something.” Killer’s standing his ground, taking the high road rather than falling into Reece’s trap. Pride swells in my chest.
“I bet you’d like that, huh Fill-ee-man.” Reece looks over his shoulder, laughing along with his sidekick. “You hear that? He wants me all over his ass.”
The door to the training center opens, and Blake storms out. He doesn’t say a word, but stands a few feet back, muscles tense, glaring at Reece and Lopez.
They don’t seem affected by his sudden presence and continue to laugh and taunt. I know Blake’s got a soft spot for the kid, so I move closer in case he loses his shit. “Reece, Lopez, unless you’re out here washing cars, I’d suggest you get your asses back to training.”
Reece turns to me; his humor morphs into a scowl. “You’re always getting on my shit when this fucker scratched my ride.”
Killer props his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “I didn’t touch your fuckin’ car, dude.”
I swing my gaze to the car and squint to fight the glare. It’s a two-door compact of some kind, painted cobalt blue with fucking glitter. On the hood, in white letters that form an arch it says Money, Power & Bitches.
“You have that done?” I point to the hood of his car. “On purpose? Or is that some kind of joke your boys played on you?”
Fighting the Fall Page 14
