I set it on the ground a few feet away and turned to help her get up. “Are you okay?” I asked.
Alissa
Oh God, how embarrassing.
My hand was bleeding from a stupid crab, my ass was in a mud puddle, and the hottest man that I had ever seen was asking me if I was okay.
No, I was not okay.
“Uh,” I said stupidly. He was extending his hand to me and it took me a moment just to figure out why. He’s trying to help your stupid ass up.
“Yeah.” I took a hold of his hand and tried not to behave like a bumbling idiot. He managed to get me on my feet. His hand was freezing, but that was to be expected as he was out in the chilly morning rain with no coat.
“I’m Jackson,” he said, pumping the hand that he was still holding in a very professional handshake.
“Alissa,” I managed. He let go of my hand, and I was suddenly very disappointed with the loss of contact.
Get a hold of yourself!
Right. “Thanks, uh, for helping me up.” I gave him a weak smile. I could feel my cheeks burning with my signature blush. How mortifying.
“No problem.” He gave me a beautiful lopsided grin, and I literally thought that my heart had stopped for a moment. “Let me help you with these, uh, crabs.” Oh God. My crabs!
“Oh, shit,” I said looking at the half-full crate. Several of my crab cake specials were trying to escape down the street. I caught up with them and somehow managed to get them all back in the box without hurting myself.
In accordance with my usual luck, it started to rain harder. We were both going to be drenched. “Um, I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to stand here getting soaked with me,” I said.
Part of me really wished that he’d go away and put an end to my misery, and part of me really hoped that he would throw me down in the street for a little more mud wrestling.
“I have no where better to be,” he replied, “and it sounds like you’re a little short on help.
Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
Oh, you can assist me any time.
“Yeah, Matt was late again today,” I said, ignoring my internal monologue. “He’s supposed to be here to help me bring all the stuff in each morning, but he’s kind of unreliable.” He picked up the crate and moved towards the door. “Where do you want them?” he asked.
“On the floor by the empty fish tank.” I pulled a box of vegetables from the van and followed him in. I ran my bloody hand under the tap. The bleeding had already stopped. Stupid crab.
With Jackson’s help, I had the van unloaded and the fresh ingredients put away in record time.
My usual routine for the day was to wake up about 4:30 a.m., go down to the docks and the open-air market, buy my supplies for the day, bring the stuff in, go upstairs and take a shower in my apartment, and then come down and start cooking for the lunch crowd. I felt terrible about trying to throw Jackson out into the rain though, without any form of payment, wet muddy and smelling like crabs. I wanted to make it right.
“I feel so bad that you are all muddy because of me,” I said. “I, uh, have an apartment above the restaurant here, with laundry. Why don’t you come up and take a shower, and I’ll throw your wet clothes in the dryer for you.”
He looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, and my brain completely shut off. What was it about men with dark hair and blue eyes?
“I mean,” I stuttered, “if you’re not in a hurry that is.”
“Thank you, Alissa,” Oh God, he said my name. “I would really appreciate that.” I stood there stupidly.
Right. Upstairs.
I pulled the kitchen door shut and then led the gorgeous man up the steps to my tiny apartment. I had opened my restaurant less than a year ago, and every penny I had was poured into it. I was doing quite well, actually, for being a young small business owner, but between working so many hours and needing to buy so much for the restaurant, I hadn’t found the time or the money to really furnish my apartment. It was sparse, but it was home.
“Uh, the bathroom is right here,” I said, flipping on the light. “Just wait one second, and I will get you a towel and something to change into.”
I didn’t really have any guy’s clothes lying around my apartment, but I found an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that I sometimes slept in, and I thought they would work well enough until his clothes dried.
“I’m gonna’ go start breakfast, but just put your wet clothes out here in the hall, and I’ll put them in to dry for you.”
“You are too kind,” he said. “Thank you for this.”
“I should be thanking you,” I said. “You’re the one who’s done all the work.” He smiled at me again and then gently shut the bathroom door. I went out to the kitchen to start breakfast, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. Usually, I just made oatmeal, but I had behaved like an incompetent fool all morning, and I was desperate to show the beautiful boy in my bathroom that I could do something right. I was going to make my signature breakfast -
stuffed French toast.
I heard the bathroom door open and close, so I went to collect his wet things for the dryer. Whew! His clothes stunk. How odd. I mean I knew we were working up a sweat bringing in the food, and the rain always made it worse, but either he was out for a jog in the rain in his jeans or he’d been in these clothes a while. I was guessing it was the latter. I had intended to just dry his clothes, but these really needed to be washed, so I tossed them into my washer along with a couple of dirty towels.
What a strange man. His jeans were an incredibly expensive brand. So expensive, in fact, that I wouldn’t even know what they were if it weren’t for Lexy. She was my best friend of fifteen years, and she made a living as a personal assistant and professional shopper. She was constantly trying to educate me in the ways of the rich and famous. Most of what she said passed right through my brain, but occasionally something would stick.
What was a man, who could afford these jeans, doing out in the rain at 5:30 on a Thursday morning with no jacket? And better yet, why did his clothes smell like a homeless shelter?
I changed my clothes and pulled my hair up out of my face, and then went back to the kitchen. I cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl while I pondered. By the time the water shut off in the shower, I had the strawberries cut, coffee made, orange juice squeezed, and toast in the frying pan. Jackson appeared a few minutes later, looking much fresher and even more amazing than before. I hadn’t noticed it, but his brown hair had these wonderful highlights in it.
I let my eyes travel over his face. Oh God, he had a split lip. How had I not seen that?
Was he in a fight?
“Something smells fantastic,” he said, and his stomach rumbled in agreement.
I laughed. “I’m glad you came hungry.”
I put four thick slices of French toast on a plate for him and told him to sit down. “Did you want coffee or orange juice?”
“Both please, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I fixed my own breakfast and then sat down next to him at my tiny kitchen table. “So tell me, how is that you happened to be in the alley behind my restaurant so early this morning?” I was being nosy, I know, but I had to have some answers.
“Um, I was… I was walking down the main street out here, and I heard you scream into your phone, and I thought you might be in trouble, so I came to investigate.”
“Oh. Well, that was very nice of you,” I said, but I had a feeling that he knew that was not the answer I was looking for. “Why were you walking down the street?” He was eating incredibly fast. He was almost done with his plate, and I’d barely gotten a bite of mine. I got up and added two more slices to the pan. It looked like he could eat them.
When he saw what I was doing he smiled gratefully.
“I was in search of breakfast actually,” he said, gesturing to his plate. “And this is the most incredible French toast I have ever eaten. Is all your food this
good?” His answer made absolutely no sense, and I was quite sure that he knew it, which is why he was trying to distract me with compliments on my food.
“Most people like it,” I said. I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easy though. “Are you from out of town or something?”
“Uh, no. I’m just kind of in transition right now, and I’m keeping some odd hours.” He was a master at not actually giving me any information.
He cleaned his plate quite easily and managed to get through the rest of our breakfast conversation with me still completely clueless as to who or what he was. I was beginning to think that he was really a superhero in disguise. It would explain the odd hours, the smelly designer clothes, the appetite, and his ability to keep that crate of crabs from crushing me.
“Thank you so very much for breakfast, Alissa,” he said, “but I’m sure I’m keeping you from something.”
“Oh, well you can’t go yet,” I said. “I put your clothes in the wash, so let me just throw them in the dryer. They are going to need about forty-five minutes to dry. Unfortunately, I do need to get started on the lunch prep. My other employees, who are thankfully more reliable than Matt, should be arriving soon.”
I put his clothes in the dryer. “You can come down to the kitchen if you want, or you’re welcome to hang out up here and watch TV or whatever until they are dry.”
“I’d like to stay with you,” he said.
Forever, I thought. You can stay with me forever.
Chapter 6: Who am I?
Jackson
Her French toast was incredible. She was incredible. And she was going to think that I was completely insane. There was no possible way that I could explain this to her.
Yeah, I’m a really rich and successful guy, who just got his ass kicked in a homeless shelter, and I helped you carry all that stuff in here because I think you’re beautiful and because I’m hoping that you’ll give me $16 so I can work tonight and win a bet against my brother. Oh, and thanks for the shower, by the way. It was great, but I’m going to be sporting a hard-on for the rest of day because the shampoo that I used smells like you, and it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever smelled – well second only to your French toast, of course.
I was so fucked.
One of the problems with having money was that you never knew if the girls were after you or your cash. Truthfully, it had never mattered that much to me either way. I had no interest in most women, other than a natural physical attraction; I found them to be shallow. Alissa was no ordinary woman. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were not expensive, but she was all the more beautiful for it. She made it look effortless. She struck me as a really genuine person—
nothing fake about this girl.
When this week was over, I was going to eat here, in her restaurant, every damn day.
After breakfast, I followed her downstairs so she could start her work. I was still wearing her clothes, which were too tight and probably looked ridiculous, and I was barefoot, but I didn’t feel the least bit awkward. I had a feeling that I would always be comfortable in her presence.
I decided to drill her with as many questions as possible. I wanted to know everything about her. And, if we kept the conversation about her, I could keep the spotlight off of myself.
“So how long have you owned this restaurant?”
“Just under a year I guess,” she said.
“What made you open it?”
She went on to tell me how it had been her childhood dream to be this great professional chef, and she spoke about it with such passion that I became truly envious. I liked my job, and I was good at it, but I didn’t have a tenth of the passion that she did when it came to my work.
This place was her life.
I sat on a stool in the corner and watched in amazement as she handled the live crabs with practiced skill. Her hands quickly and efficiently moved steaming pots, juggled sharp knives, and avoided danger after danger. All of the clumsy fumbling that I had witnessed earlier was banished from her kitchen. In here, she was a force to be reckoned with.
I asked about her family, her hobbies, her favorite color, food, flowers, everything I could think of until she finally told me that I wasn’t allowed to ask any more questions and sent me upstairs to check on the clothes in the dryer. I was reluctant to leave her, but I was reminded of reality. I needed to get that social security card today.
Several of her employees had arrived while I was captivated by the sound of her voice, and her kitchen was now bustling with activity. I paused in the stairwell to watch her interact with the others. Her easy conversation and playful teasing were punctuated with instructions to her crew. She would be a wonderful boss, despite the fact that she was too nice. It would probably break her heart to fire someone–that Matt she was on the phone with this morning for example. I would have fired him the first time he didn’t show up. I had never shown mercy in the corporate world. I was not cruel, but I did have very high standards. People who disappointed me were not around very long. It was just business, but here, in her kitchen, it didn’t feel like business. It felt like family.
My clothes were dry so I changed back into them, folded the towels that she had also dried, and left the clothes that she had lent me on her bed.
I took the opportunity to snoop around her bedroom while I was here alone. She had a couple of photos. I assumed the man in the police uniform was her father–she’d said he was a police chief in small town not far from here. Please don’t shoot me, sir, but I am extremely attracted to your daughter.
I contemplated that for a few minutes. I wanted to meet him, everyone… everyone who had ever been close to Alissa. I was shocked to discover that I was considering a real relationship with this woman. I’d only known her for a couple of hours, but I was already helpless in her presence.
So what the hell was I doing? I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Of course, she didn’t have any idea who I was. I had seen to that, but I knew I wouldn’t get away with avoiding her questions forever, and truthfully I didn’t want to. I wanted her to know who I was. The real me—not the billionaire businessman that society thought I was, not the homeless man I was pretending to be—just the Jackson that got to sit barefoot in Alissa’s kitchen.
I made my way back downstairs in time to catch the end of her conversation. I was eavesdropping, and I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate for as much information as I could possibly get about this woman.
“Ty, it is none of your damn business who he is,” she said.
“I’m just looking out for you, ‘Lissa. I mean, sure, you can sleep with whomever you want, but he was sitting in your kitchen, in your clothes, and he didn’t even know what your favorite food was. Every other person in this room can answer that question. I never thought of you as the type to sleep around, but you don’t know that guy at all.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, you asshole. He helped me, and he got muddy in the process.
I let him use my shower, and that’s it. That’s also the end of this discussion, and if you ever imply that I am easy again, I will so fire your ass. I don’t care if you are the best dessert man I’ve got working for me.”
I came around the corner in enough time to watch her hurl an empty crab shell at him.
She missed by a mile, but it was still adorable.
“Yeah, because you make that signature French toast of yours for every random person who uses your shower,” he smirked at her. “And for the record, I’m the only dessert man you’ve got working for you.”
So that was a special breakfast that she made for me. My heart was delighted by that news. I cleared my throat to alert them to my presence and shot Tyler a dirty look. I was grateful to him for inadvertently letting me know about the French toast, but I was pissed at him for implying that Alissa was anything less than a lady, even if it was meant to be playful. She hadn’t taken offense, but she still deserved better.
“Thank you, Alissa,” I said, “for a del
ightful morning, but I should be on my way now.” She looked as disappointed as I felt. “I’d like to see you again sometime, if that would be okay with you?”
The smile that lit up her face warmed my heart, and it took every ounce of willpower that I had to not pull her into my arms. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. The beautiful blush was back on her cheeks.
I wanted to leave her my number, but I didn’t have my phone. At least I knew where she lived, and worked, for that matter, so it wouldn’t be hard to find her again. I started for the door.
“Wait! Let me pay you for your work this morning.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” the standard refusal fell from my lips before I even thought about it. I needed the money, but I really didn’t want to take it from her. I also didn’t want her to see me as an employee.
“I insist,” she said. She ducked into a closet for a moment and returned with a $20 bill in her hand. “It’s the least I can do.”
I mumbled a thank you, and reluctantly took the bill from her. She walked me to the backdoor.
“Have a wonderful day, my beautiful Alissa.” I lifted her hand and placed a kiss just above her knuckles, hoping to dispel any further thoughts of me as the hired help, and then I walked into the alley and away from the most amazing creature I’d ever met.
Chapter 7: Running the World
Jason
Why did Jackson have to be such a morning person? I was at the office a full hour earlier than I had ever been before. When we made this stupid bet, I had not planned on doing Jackson’s job in addition to my own, but as soon as Shelby found out, everything changed. She personally saw to it that this week would be a living hell for me.
I wouldn’t have told her about the bet at all, but she overheard the second half of my phone call with Ben on the night that we made the bet, and she freaked out on me as soon as I hung up.
“Where exactly is Jackson?” she asked.
“Uh, well...” I scrambled for an excuse.
“You sent him out into the city alone with no keys and no money at midnight so that he could pretend to be homeless? Are you insane? Exactly how fucking drunk were you?” She’d gone on like that for a full fifteen minutes, not allowing me to interrupt. When she finally ceased her ranting, she schooled me on how this week was going to go in lieu of Jackson’s disappearing act. She made it clear that I would handle all of Jackson’s responsibilities at work. If I failed in any way, I would not be sleeping in the same bed as my own wife... for a month.
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