by Katie Ford
Somehow, I don’t think a waffle and some fruit should let him off the hook.
Even if they are beautifully put together with delicious whipped cream. I dig my fork in, and the waffle flakes up perfectly. In my mouth, the combination of waffles, fruit, and whipped cream makes me moan out loud.
Damn him.
He says he doesn’t remember me, but he still made the breakfast I loved to eat after sex with him, or after anything he and I did together when we were two silly kids in love. Or maybe I was the only one in love and he was just, I don’t know, killing time until he could escape our town and escape me.
“It’s good?” His amused gaze washes over me, as warm as his touch from earlier in the bed. My thoughts about the past fall away. Light from the window surrounds him, making him glow.
I’m in so much trouble.
“Yeah, it’s really good. Thank you for making this.”
“It’s no big deal,” he says, but something about the way his eyes avoid mine for a second makes me know this is a big deal. A huge one, actually.
Sap that I am, I love it. I love being with him in his small and comfortable kitchen, sharing breakfast like a normal couple. I swallow thickly. But we’re not a normal couple. Far from it.
I want us to be, though.
Panicked, I stuff more food into my mouth before I can say anything stupid.
“So.” He clears his throat and picks up his fork. “What do you do around here?”
Oh. Small talk. Okay. We can do that.
“I…uh… I’m a paralegal for a firm downtown.”
“That sounds interesting,” he says around a bite of waffle.
“It’s not, though. Not lately.” I put my hands around the warm coffee mug, surprised at the words about to spill out of my mouth. “I used to love it and find something exciting about it every day, but now I’m a little bored.” The coffee smells delicious and is steaming hot. I blow on it and take a sip. It’s rich and strong and very sweet. Just the way I like it. “Doing more would be great, but I don’t know where to start.”
Brent nods and looks like he’s actually listening to me. He chews slowly and thoughtfully before speaking. “Change can be good. If you have a good relationship with your boss, maybe talk to him and see if he has any idea of what you could get into next at the job.”
“My best friend thinks it might be time for me to leave there.” Practically every Friday, Mandy asks if I’ve been looking for other work, or at least checking into law school. Sometimes, she’s everything I imagine a nagging and caring mother would be.
“You think she’s right.” Brent says the words like they’re a statement, not a question.
Color rushes up to my cheeks, and I don’t even know why.
He’s getting to know me again, that’s why.
Oh God! This is so crazy. I need to pull way back and let him get on with his life.
But it’s too late for that. After last night and the things we shared, the things he made me feel, I can’t just shut this time with him away into the metal box and pretend it never happened.
Just then, my phone rings. It’s Mandy’s ring tone. “Oh, crap! I almost forgot about my date.”
I jump up from the kitchen table and head for where it’s frantically chirping. My purse on the couch.
“You’ve got a date?” Brent growls the question, and I look over the counter separating the kitchen from the living room to see a thundercloud on his face. He’s actually jealous!
I should make him think it’s some guy wanting me. But I’ve never been into games.
“It’s my best friend, Mandy.” The phone keeps ringing, but I can’t find it. “Uh…we’re going to the farmer’s market this morning.” Oh! There it is, under my jacket.
“Hey, Mandy!”
A quick look at my watch tells me it’s not too late. I can still meet her at the house, or even at the entrance to the market if she’s anxious to get started.
“Did all that good dick make you forget all about me?” my best friend starts in on me right away. A blush scorches my face.
“Don’t say that!” I turn away from Brent, thankful that he can’t hear Mandy’s loud voice through the phone. “Anyway, I didn’t forget. I was just about to leave.”
“Good! I’m almost at his house, so just come outside in about…three minutes.” I had texted her while I was at the bar last night, telling her that if I didn’t come home, I was leaving with Brent.
“Oh! Okay.” But she has’ already hung up the phone.
“So, you gotta go, huh?” Brent stands at the counter, his cup of coffee in hand, watching me.
“Yeah.” I bite my lip.
This is where he should ask for my phone number, right? But he only stands there, still watching me. The warmth in his bright blue eyes reminds me of last night when he washed me in the bathtub. Tender and so very sweet. But he doesn’t make any sort of move.
Hell, Mandy is almost here. We don’t have time for this. I put on my jacket, pick up my purse, and then turn to walk slowly toward his front door.
“Do you even have a phone?” I ask with one hand on the doorknob and the other on my purse. “I looked for you on Facebook, and there was nothing.”
“Fuck social media,” Brent snorts into his mug. “I like my privacy.”
Uncertainty ripples between us as I stand in front of his door with my hand on the strap of my purse, all set to go. I know he wants more from me, from this, but he won’t ask. I should just walk away and let him fall out of my life again.
Maybe.
But something inside of me twists at that thought, and I know I can’t just walk away.
“But do you have a phone?” I ask again. “Or at least an email address?”
After a second’s hesitation, Brent reaches over into a basket on top of the kitchen island and pulls out an ancient-looking flip phone. “Yeah, I have a phone.” He clears his throat. “Can I call you?”
I blink at him. Did he actually…? “You want to call me?”
Brent nods and flips open the old phone. A smile takes over his broad face, making him look almost boyish. Like my boyfriend when we were kids.
This is so not fair.
“Yeah,” Brent says, his voice deep and irresistible. “It might be nice to go somewhere else other than that damned bar for a change.”
My whole body screams yes without saying a word. A golden feeling pours into my stomach, and it’s all I can do not to smile at him like a complete idiot.
And I know in that moment that whatever he asks me for next, I won’t be able to say no.
Chapter 13
Brent
Claire and I have a date tonight. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I’ve gone on dates before, but for some reason, I’m nervous like this is about to be my first time taking out a woman.
True, like some dude with a prom date, I had called her up and asked her to go out with me. Although our chemistry is off the charts and I know she wants me as much as I want her, I was still a little surprised when she agreed to the date. I had asked her out on Monday, and the weekend had felt like it would never come. But here I am, on her doorstep, waiting for her to come to the door.
A soft vibration jolts my arm. It’s my watch alarm telling me that it’s exactly seven on the dot. Taking a quick, deep breath, I raise my hand to knock on the door. But it opens before my hand can connect.
Claire stands in the doorway smiling at me. She looks incredible. A pretty, flowy dress shows off her curves, her high heels bring her closer to my height, and she’s wearing some sort of perfume that is so sweet it makes me want to lean down and lick her.
“I figured you might be out here,” she says.
“Oh, really? Am I that predictable?”
“Not at all. That’s one of the things I like about you. It’s just that, I used to know...someone who always showed up at the exact time we were supposed to meet. If he came early, he would just wait outside until the clock told him the right time.�
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Who the hell was this asshole? Obviously, he’s not still around. I don’t know him, but he’s some kind of idiot for letting Claire go. Oh well. His stupidity is my gain.
“Well, I’m here now instead of some crazy guy from back in the day.” I take a quick look behind her into the apartment. There’s nobody else in there that I can see. “You ready?”
“Sure!” She pulls the door shut behind her, locks it, and slips her keys into the purse she already has on her shoulder. “I’m all yours.”
I wish.
Nearly half an hour later, we both climb out of the car and stare at the building where we will have our date. I can feel Claire’s hesitation as clear as day. Well, maybe the reason I can tell is because I feel it too. The place I’d looked up online while I was at work was classy. It was supposed to be a good date place with plenty of parking and mood lighting. This place looks like a serial killer’s lair.
“Um...” Claire bites her lip and looks from me to the weather-worn and slightly sagging doors of MexiCantina, a TexMex place that is supposed to have good pulled pork tacos. The outside looks like it needs a fresh coat of paint, and ours is only one of three cars in the parking lot.
“Maybe it’s better on the inside,” I tell her.
It wasn’t.
The place is so dark, we can barely see where we walk as the host guides us to our table. The music playing is old eighties songs, completely out of sync with any sort of Tex-Mex vibe. Each table has a lit candle on it, so it’s weird passing all of those empty tables. Only two of them are occupied.
I bend down to whisper in Claire’s ear. “I swear, I didn’t bring you here to murder you.”
She giggles. “That’s good. I’m too young and cute to die.” Soft laughter bubbles out of her, and the host looks over his shoulder at us, obviously wondering what the hell we find so funny. That makes her laugh harder, and I can’t hide my own snort of laughter.
“Your server will be right with you,” he says, frowning at us before he leaves us with a menu.
We sit down—I pull the chair out for Claire then sit across from her—and barely scan the menu before the same guy comes back.
“I guess I’ll be your server tonight,” he says with a look like he’s being really inconvenienced. No skin off our noses, pal. “Do you know what you’d like to eat tonight?”
What? We just sat down. I mean, I always get the same thing at places like this, but Claire might need a second—
“Yes, I’m ready,” she says, putting down her menu. “How about you, Brent?”
I shrug. “Yeah, sure.”
After we give the guy our order, he runs off like he’s escaping. But he must not have made it very far because he comes back again, this time with our waters, the glass of iced tea Claire wants, and the beer I asked him for.
Claire leans close, humor sparkling in her eyes. “This place is strange.”
“Tell me about it.” I groan and roll my eyes, hamming it up for Claire. “I’m never getting advice from the internet about anything ever again.”
“Oh my God! Seriously?!” Claire claps a hand over her mouth, but the giggles escape anyway. She has such a sweet laugh. I could listen to it for hours and drown in her eyes at the same time.
Shit. I’m falling so hard for this woman.
“The internet promised me this place was gonna be good,” I grouse, although I know it’s my own fault.
All I had to do was ask Nick where he took his girl out on nice dates, and that would’ve solved my problem. But no, I wanted to do this shit on my own. Lesson learned.
Gradually, Claire’s giggles fade away. “It’s fine, really. This place is weird, but maybe we can look back on it and laugh.”
I give her a doubtful look. “Maybe you’ll laugh, but...” I look around the place. Yeah, it’s a spot only a killer would love. “The food better be excellent.”
Her eyes twinkle as she sips her iced tea. “We’ll see.”
Just then, I hear a sizzling noise coming closer to our table. Claire and I both look up to see the waiter coming back. He walks between the empty tables like he’s a model on a runway, a tray held over one shoulder and a pleased look on his face.
What the hell is on his tray that’s sizzling so much?
He sets the tray down on a low table he unfolds in front of us. As if he’s presenting the best the place ha’s got to offer, he slides a huge plate with my chimichangas, refried beans, and guacamole in front of me. It looks interesting. It’s hard as hell to mess up basically a fried burrito, but this thing looks like it got squeezed out of a cat’s too-tight asshole. Half of its contents had exploded outside of the fried shell to splat in the middle of the plate. Damn. Any hopes I’d had for a decent meal take a flying leap straight out the window.
“And for the lady,” the waiter says as he places a sizzling tray of fajitas in front of Claire. “Enjoy.”
Claire frowns down at the food. “But I ordered—”
The waiter ignores her, already packing up his tray and folding table to get ready to leave.
What the hell?
“She didn’t order that.” I use my soldier’s voice on him.
The waiter turns to me with the tray and table under his arm and rolls his eyes. Little fucker thinks he’s being clever. A flash of anger turns my vision red. Slowly, I get to my feet and look all the way down at him, making sure he feels the power of my stare.
”She ordered the pulled pork tacos,” I growl. “And you’re going to bring them for her. Now.”
The waiter doesn’t move. He looks struck dumb, like he can’t believe I’m talking to him this way.
“Right now.” I crack my voice like a whip. “Go back to that kitchen and get her what she asked for.”
After a panicked look at me, he scurries away.
When I turn back to Claire, she’s staring at me in wide-eyed shock. She blinks as I sit back down and adjust my chair to sit closer to the table. My hands are shaking from that brief burst of adrenaline, but it’s worth it to get her what she wants from this place. This is a date, and she’s damn well going to have a good time. Or at least decent food.
“Holy crap,” Claire giggles nervously. “Brent, you didn’t have to do that.” She looks down at the plate of fajitas in front of her. They manage to somehow look both burned and underdone. The smell should be at least a little appetizing, but it’s not. It’s like somebody tortured an animal—fur and all—and dropped it on her plate.
“Yes, I did have to do that,” I say softly. I can feel the words bubbling up in my throat, and before I know it, I add, “I want to make sure you have exactly what you want.”
Claire flushes a beautiful rose that makes her brown eyes glisten. “But it’s not worth the trouble,” she replies. “It’s just food.”
How can I explain to her that it’s so much more? How can I tell Claire–a woman I barely knew–that she should have the best of everything?
“It’s not just food.” I put my hand on the table near hers. The heat from her fingers radiates to mine through the inch or so separating us, and it’s enough. “You have to stand up for yourself in this world, Claire. Because if you don’t, no one else will. People are cruel, and they can sense weakness.”
Claire bites her lip, looking pensive. Even in the shitty lighting of the restaurant, she is beautiful. Her glossy brown curls are twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck, and her deep brown eyes are like pools of a dark and intoxicating well.
“I know that,” Claire says finally. “People always try to take advantage of me. When it really matters, I don’t let them, though.” She looks me right in the eyes, a faint smile on her glistening pink lips. “Do you want to take advantage of me?”
The question takes my mind to someplace else. Back to my bedroom with her on her hands and knees, taking my cock so well. Under her slowly heating gaze, a heaviness moves between my legs.
Just as I’m about to open my mouth to speak, the waiter reappears with a p
late of tacos. He wears an apologetic smile, not quite sincere, but it’ll do for now. I watch him with an expressionless face as he sets the plate down on the table.
“I’m very sorry for the mistake, sir. Ma’am,” he says. “Please, allow us to offer this dish on the house.”
“Thank you,” I tell him with a dismissive nod. He waits a second, then when I don’t say anything else to him, he makes his escape. “Claire, how is it?”
Claire flushes as she takes a bite. “Delicious,” she replies. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Good.”
I pick up my knife and fork and start in on my own food. “I’d hate to kill you accidentally with crappy food in this creepy ass place when we’re only now getting the chance to know each other.”
A strange look comes over her face. She bites the corner of her lip but doesn’t say anything. She grabs a taco and takes a huge bite. When I reach for her hand still resting on the table, a soft sigh flows out of her. She relaxes. Her eyes meet mine, and that strangeness that clouded her face a few seconds ago is gone.
The relief I feel shouldn’t even exist. Yes, she doesn’t look like she’s in pain anymore. But I shouldn’t feel her sudden peace of mind like it’s my own, right?
Damn.
The protective feelings I have for Claire are so out of character for me, but I don’t want them to go away. This girl is amazing. She’s beautiful. Yes, she’s a firecracker in the sack, but her kindness and her sweet smile haunt my dreams and haunt my days at work. I want to know absolutely everything about her.
She’s not superficial or sloppy like the other women who usually come on to me. There’s something fresh and sweet about her, almost like she’s unspoiled by the horrors of the world.
After my time in the military, I’ve come to appreciate loyalty more than anything else. It’s rare as hell, and even though I don’t know her very well—not yet—I sense that Claire is one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. I’m looking forward to getting to know her more, and better.
Hopefully, she feels the same about me.
