The Darkest Hour: A San Diegan Novel

by S. M. Soto

  I blow out a deep breath and sigh loudly, visibly deflating in my seat.

  “I’m so sorry; I didn’t even think to bring one with me.” I scrunch my face apologetically. “I just, I...” I inhale a deep breath.

  “I just recently moved here so I don’t really have all my usual resources that I normally would in regular circumstances.” He continues to stare at me and that’s when the word vomit starts.

  “I mean I have my laptop here with me but I don’t have a printer. I honestly don’t even know where I would go to print something here; do they even have places like that here? I guess I could’ve bought a flash drive and given it to you that way too, but what employer wants to deal with that, you know?”

  I suck in a lungful of air after my run-on sentence. The look on his face tells me all I need to know. He thinks I’m crazy.

  I inch down in the chair hoping it will just swallow me whole, and put me out of my misery. Chase looks at me thoughtfully for a moment; his eyes search my beet red face before he nods his head. A head nod? What is that supposed to mean?

  My heart hammers in my chest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his ankle on his knee and resting his hands behind his head. My eyes follow his every movement without my permission. They zone in on the corded muscles of his arms and rock solid abdomen. Why does he have to sit like that? Lord, help me, the man just drips testosterone.

  “So, tell me, Aliza, why do you want to work here?” He asks casually. His expression is unreadable and unwavering–which is extremely intimidating. I can’t tell if he wants the truth or one of those bullshit answers you’re supposed to give in interviews. I mentally scramble around my brain for a good answer. Nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear I clear my throat. “Well, I think you have a great establishment here and although I’ve never waitressed or bartended I used to work at a department store back home. It was sort of like an equivalent to a Nordstrom or a Dillard’s, I guess you can say.”

  “And where is home?” He inquires with a steely expression.

  This dude must be one hell of a poker player because I can’t tell what he’s thinking; his face is a blank mask.

  “Pennsylvania.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re a long way from home.”

  I fidget uncomfortably in my chair thinking about my home, and all the memories that come with it.

  He uncrosses his leg and leans forward on his desk. I get a whiff of his scent, fresh pine mixed with something spicy, woodsy even.

  Holy mother he smells good, like heaven and sin all rolled into one.

  Focus, focus.

  “You still haven’t answered my question Ms. Anderson. Why do you want to work here?” He sits stoically with a stone-faced expression waiting for me to answer. I sit up straight and square my shoulders piecing my jumbled thoughts together.

  Didn’t I already answer the question? Shit! I start to ramble off anything I can think of.

  “I’m a good worker, and I’m a really fast learner. I’m also-”

  Chase chuckles lightly and raises his hand to quiet my rambling.

  “Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” He asks with a raised brow. My mouth plops open again and I stare at him wide eyed like a gaping fish.

  “I like my employees to be honest with me Ms. Anderson, and if you can’t do that then we already have a problem.” He raises both eyebrows at me as an indication for me to speak up. I internally war with myself. The truth or a good lie? What will it be?

  “I need a distraction,” I blurt honestly. “I don’t know anyone here so it’s not like I’m killed for time. It also wouldn’t hurt to have an extra couple of bucks coming into my pocket especially since taxis aren’t cheap.”

  Sucking in a deep breath I slouch into the chair. I internally berate myself for my brutally honest response.

  There goes your one opportunity, idiot.

  Chase rubs a hand over the scruff dusting across his face and stares at me intently for a while then his lip twitches. I think he’s trying to hide his smile.

  “I appreciate your bluntness, Ms. Anderson,” is all he says in reply, making my heart drop.

  Shit, I guess this means I didn’t get the job.

  My shoulders droop and I try to give him my best smile to hide how low I’m feeling right now. He scoots away from his desk and stands to his full height.

  “When are you able to start?”

  My eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets, and my body jolts with a wave of electricity. I can’t tell if it’s from him or because he just offered me the job.

  The job. Definitely the job. Liar.

  He must notice my confused expression because he laughs; the small indent in his cheek deepening.

  “Not the answer you were expecting, was it?” He inquires as a small smile tilts up the corners of his lips.

  I let out a relieved laugh. “Definitely not. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘get out of my office’.” His eyes glint and crinkle at the corners when he smiles, in turn making a slow smile spread across my face.

  “I can start whenever,” I add to seal the deal.

  “Good. How about you come in tomorrow at 10:30? I’ll give you a quick run-down of the basics you’ll need to know. You can shadow one of the other waitresses the rest of the work day to get a feel of what you’ll be doing.” He heads toward the door and I quickly scramble to my feet to follow him.

  “That sounds good. Really good. Thank you, Mr...?” I trail off raising my eyebrow.

  “Roland. Chase Roland.”

  I smile. “Thank you again, Mr. Roland,” I say with a giddiness I haven’t felt in a long time.

  “There’s one more thing for you.” I stop near the door and frown as he walks back toward his desk. He sifts through one of the bottom drawers and I immediately recognize the bag he pulls out. He found my purse! I hold back the urge to shout in joyous relief. He casually walks back toward me with my lost purse hanging in his hand.

  “I found this on the beach a few nights ago.” He clears his throat, “I only went through it to check for identification.”

  Offering the purse to me, I reach out and my hand lightly grazes against his, sending another chill throughout my body. I freeze momentarily. My eyes gravitate to his magnetic blues, and I can’t seem to peel them away from him. His eyes narrow.

  “You alright?” His voice sounds perplexed.

  I quickly shake myself out of the stupor, feeling like a complete idiot. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I try to play it off by snatching the purse from his hand. Taking a few steps back I clear my throat.

  “Wow. I thought I lost this. Seriously, thank you so much.” I let out a relieved laugh. Partly because of the much-needed distance I’ve put between us, but mainly because he found my purse.

  Chase continues to stare down at me for a few seconds longer before finally giving me a small smile and nod of his head.

  “See you tomorrow, Ms. Anderson.”

  He reaches his hand out for me to shake, and I stare down at it hesitantly. Finally, I reach my hand out to shake. When our skin touches, I feel a current of electricity jolt through me. Chase doesn’t immediately let go of my hand, and I’m beyond glad. My skin burns beneath his touch and my stomach flutters.

  When he finally releases my hand, it feels bare and cold without the warmth of his skin wrapped around mine. I continue to stare up into his stark blue irises and try not to get too lost.

  “Aliza. You can just call me Aliza.” I find myself saying. His lip twitches in amusement yet again, making my face heat. I smile shyly, before turning and heading down the stairs as quickly as my legs will take me.

  I don’t look back for a second glance, afraid of seeing those intense blue eyes watching my hasty departure. My stomach is still fluttering and my legs feel like a bowl of jello. I have to bite my bottom lip to contain the smile that so desperately wants to spread across my face.

  Until tomorrow, handsome.


  Chapter Thirteen

  I hopped out of the cab at a quarter past ten, and timidly walked through the doors of CJ’s Bar and Grille. I pause over the threshold feeling all sorts of uncomfortable. I don’t know anyone here but Chase, and I still don’t even really know him. Am I supposed to wait down here? Or meet in his office? He didn’t specifically say. I look down at the outfit that I chose to wear today. A pair of black jean shorts, all black Nike Roshe’s, and a gray baseball tee sum up my outfit. I take a few extra seconds deliberating my outfit choice before shrugging, feeling content with what I chose. It’s comfortable enough for a job like this.

  I walk further inside, toward the sound of voices on the other end of the bar. I follow the wrap around and my gaze immediately lands on Chase. He’s looking attentively at something behind the bar, not noticing my presence yet. I utilize this time to gain control of my breathing, and those pesky butterflies. Slowing my stride, I take my time walking over to him, admiring his features and stiff demeanor. He seems too tense for it being only ten in the morning. Side effects of being the boss I guess.

  Today he’s wearing a navy-blue shirt with the bar and grill logo that hugs his body just as well as his shirt did yesterday.

  He’s not ugly. That’s for damn sure.

  His blonde hair is a tousled mess atop his head and he’s clean shaven today. With or without the scruff he’s still incredibly hot. I’m just rounding the table closest to the bar when he looks up. Our eyes meet instantly, and I slightly stumble over my own feet at the impact of those baby blues. They’re disarming—lethal even. The butterflies in my stomach quickly turn into a vicious swarm of bees with each step I take toward him. Our eyes lock only briefly before his gaze travels down my body assessing my wardrobe. Seeming okay with what I have on he nods his head slightly as if giving me his seal of approval. The girl standing behind the bar next to him must say something funny because he smiles and I nearly combust on the spot. It’s a panty dropping smile. You know; the one that makes girls go all gaga. He has the perfect smile with a row of white teeth to go with. I suddenly run my tongue over my own teeth subconsciously, chiding myself for all my coffee drinking. There’s a small indent in his cheek that looks like a dimple but not quite. It’s sexy as all hell. This man looks like he’s straight out of a damn Calvin Klein ad. It’s unreal–almost disgusting. No one should ever be this good looking.

  I reach Chase at the bar top and can’t control the shy smile that spreads across my face. I can’t even remember the last time I smiled this much.

  “Good morning, Aliza,” he says with a polite smile. “You’re here a little early so most of the employees aren’t here yet.” He gestures to the guy standing beside him.

  “This is Alex. He’s my right-hand man here, whenever I’m gone for a long period of time, he’s usually the one in charge.”

  I give a small wave to Alex who just winks at me in return. Alex is very good looking, there’s no denying it. Between him and Chase, I’m briefly left wondering if all the men in San Diego are good looking.

  Chase’s deep voice interrupts my wayward thoughts, and I couldn’t be happier that those thoughts are put on hold.

  “How about we sign some papers back in my office, by then most of the staff will be here for brief introductions.”

  I just nod my head dumbly, seemingly speechless in his presence. I trail quietly behind Chase to his office, and I have to force my eyes away from his delectable backside in his jeans more than once.

  Get a grip!

  When we reach his office, he unlocks his door and steps aside so I can pass through. I timidly walk into his office and stand awkwardly off to the side. Not noticing my awkwardness, Chase sits at his desk and looks up at me with a confused expression.

  “You can sit, Aliza,” he says humorously, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

  I internally roll my eyes at my stupid behavior. Smooth, Aliza, just go ahead and stand in the corner like a complete freak.

  I lower myself into the chair, sitting quietly across from Chase waiting for him to say something, but he’s so focused on his laptop I don’t think he even remembers I’m sitting here. I discretely smell the air as often as possible to get a decent whiff of him and commit it to memory. He smells like fresh pines and heaven. If heaven doesn’t smell anything like him, I’m not sure I want to be there. Chase shuffles through some papers on his desk then lifts his head up and catches me staring at him.

  Busted.

  His eyebrow arches in question. Heat crawls up my skin in embarrassment and I can’t look away fast enough. I glance at every place around his office avoiding his eyes that I can still feel staring at me. My gaze zones in on the jar of Almond Joys he has sitting on his desk, and I decide to keep them there.

  “Do you want one?”

  I flick my startled gaze up to his and see the small smirk playing on his lips. My brows pull down in genuine confusion.

  “What?”

  Chase chuckles then gestures to the jar of Almond Joys.

  “I asked if you wanted one. You were staring at them like you’ve never seen an Almond Joy before.”

  “Ohh.” I prolong the ‘o’ feeling like an idiot. “Right, of course.” I quickly rectify, feeling my face go from pink to red. Chase slides a few papers across the desk toward me putting my awkward moment behind us. Thankfully he doesn’t bring my embarrassment to attention.

  “These are just standard employee forms, get them filled out then we can head down stairs for introductions before starting.”

  I blow out a relieved breath and lean forward looking at the forms, reading over the questions, and required information. Easy enough.

  I open my purse and search through its contents for a pen. Fuck my life, I can’t even find a pencil in here. With an internal groan, I frantically search through my stuff, no doubt making unnecessary noise, digging like a raccoon through garbage.

  Jesus H. Christ. I don’t have a pen.

  Sheepishly looking up through my lashes, I find Chase staring at me with an amused expression no doubt at my strange behavior. He smiles, showcasing the tiny crease in his cheek and holds a pen out for me to take. I smile weakly while I reach out, trying to take the pen without touching him.

  I fail. Miserably.

  The tips of my fingers graze his as I grab the pen from his hand. That small touch shocks me with the same wave of electricity as yesterday. It makes every nerve ending in my body stand to attention, acutely aware of the distance between us. I quickly pull my trembling hand away. Trying to fill out paperwork with shaking hands is nearly impossible. My letters look like scribbles, and chicken scratch. Why does he have such a profound effect on me? I twirl the locket that’s around my neck between my fingers hoping it will center me as I fill out the rest of the paperwork. I can feel his stare on me, heating my entire body up unintentionally. So much for feeling centered.

  The silence in the room is deafening and I say the first thing that comes to mind.

  “So, what’s up with all the Almond Joys? Is that your favorite candy or something?” I inquire as I finish up the rest of the paperwork.

  See, diarrhea of the mouth I tell you.

  I lift my head to sneak a glance at him when he doesn’t respond right away. His eyes are now trained on the jar of candies much like mine were as a distraction a few minutes before. His jaw is set tight and his hand is fisted on the top of his desk. The atmosphere of the room changes in an instant. I get the distinct impression that I’ve just put my foot in my mouth.

  “No. It was my brothers,” is all he says.

  There’s no emotion in his voice when he says it, and I can’t help but think what a contradiction his voice is to his body language. So, what if his brother liked Almond Joys?

  If the subject of Almond Joys pisses him off so much, why have huge jar on your desk?

  That’s when it hits me dead on like a semi-truck.

  He said was.

  He referred to his brother in the past
tense.

  My heart sinks at my slip up. The thought of someone else losing someone that significant in their life is enough to cause my eyes to burn and well with unshed tears. I repeatedly open and close my mouth unsure of what to say. I just had to go and ask about the Almond Joys, didn’t I?

  I grip the locket that’s hanging around my neck tightly in my hand and focus on his tense features.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

  His eyes meet mine slowly. Unnamed and unfamiliar emotions flash across his face, but the pain and grief in the depths of his eyes is clear as day. It does strange things to me—the look in his eyes has never looked more familiar. It’s the same haunted one that stares back at me every day when I look into the mirror.

  Like a shield sliding over his eyes, the sadness is gone, replaced with a cold and distant look. His body slowly uncoils when his eyes train on the locket around my neck that’s twisting in between my fingers. His gaze makes me tense up. I pray to whoever’s listening that he won’t ask about it. It’s too personal to talk about for me. Most days I can’t even look at it without crying. Thankfully he doesn’t ask.

  “Finished with the paperwork so we can head down?” He asks instead, gesturing to the papers.

  I nod my head and slide them across his desk toward him. He flips through the small stack of papers and sets them aside before standing. I follow quietly as he leads the way out. I can feel his body heat behind me as he guides me down the stairs. Will his proximity always affect me this much?

  If so, we have a problem.

  We walk silently down the stairs toward the bar where most of the employees are hanging out before their shift starts. Chase walks front and center gaining everyone’s attention effortlessly.

  “Alright, guys,” he says loudly. His voice silences everyone. “I’d like you to meet our new employee, Aliza. Today’s her first day so she’ll be shadowing Natalia and Sam.” Chase gestures to two pretty girls off to the side. Sam has shoulder length red hair and bright green eyes while Natalia has hair so dark and long it looks almost like a black curtain. Her eyes are the most captivating feature on her beautiful face, not because of the caramel brown color but because of their almond shape encased by long lashes.