“No, just relax and keep me company.” He winks.
Tate must have sat me in a central location, because for the next half hour or so he is constantly brushing past me, reaching around me, and working on the bench closest to me.
I have had another two shots since, and they seemed to have kicked in. My body buzzes with thrill and excitement. Tate stands behind me and reaches around to grab a spice off the rack, his arm brushing over mine. As his breath flows over the back of my neck, I jump out of my seat.
“I have to help,” I all but shout. I can’t sit still anymore and be a target of his not-so-innocent touches.
Tate chuckles as he picks up a tomato and throws it to me. Thanking my quick reflexes, I catch it mid-air.
“Here, cut those,” he says, gesturing to the pile of tomatoes already stacked on the bench next to where he is preparing bacon.
I pop the tomato down and head to wash my hands. Once I return to the counter, Tate approaches me with an apron and wraps his arms around me as he ties the strings in front. We get stuck into it and work in companionable silence for the next few minutes.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” he says, not pausing for a second from the bacon he is cutting.
“I know,” I respond.
“I’m glad we’re okay.”
“Me, too.”
Silence descends once more, and we continue our tasks before Tate speaks again. “The other day, you said how you’ve never felt an instant connection with someone before.”
“Yeah?” I ask warily, wondering if I freaked him out.
“I didn’t get to tell you that I feel the same. When we’re together, it feels right.”
“Yeah . . . it does.”
Even though we don’t mention another thing about it, the silence doesn’t come again as the shots keep flowing and the music on the old radio gets louder and louder. We are laughing and carrying on and there is more ‘accidental’ touching on both sides.
‘Black Widow’ by Iggy Azalea and Rita Ora flows through the speakers and I sigh in happiness. “I love this song.” I leave my tomatoes behind to shake my hips all over the kitchen to the beat, singing along with the lyrics.
Warmth covers my back as two strong hands land on my hips. Tate pushes into me from behind and moves his hips along with my own or forces my hips to move along with his—I’m not sure.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Harper,” he whispers into my ear. “I won’t be able to keep this friendship platonic if you keep shaking your ass like that in my kitchen.” His warm breath flows over my collarbone as he nuzzles my neck and goosebumps break out across my skin. Tate must notice as he lifts his head and slowly peppers small, light kisses along the crease of my shoulder.
My head rolls back onto his shoulder, and my body liquefies at the intimate and sensual touch. He’s breaking down my walls. My common sense. He’s slowly softening me, melting me so he can mould me as he pleases, and it’s working.
As the realisation hits me, I jump out of Tate’s arms, grab hold of his hand, and pull him to the middle of the kitchen. I smile seductively at him and wink. “I’ll just have to keep you in line and focused then.”
He throws his head back and laughs, allowing me to ignore the moment and lead him around the centre workbench as we shake, shimmy, and wiggle to ‘Shake it Off’ by Taylor Swift, which is now playing on the stereo.
We laugh, dance, talk, and work for the next two hours, and I know there is no way I’m ruining this friendship with a one-night stand. I have no doubt it would be a hot, wild, and dirty time. No doubt probably the best I’ve had. But it’s still not worth it to lose this special something. I don’t know what it is we have going on—but I like it.
Going to the café the next night, I am excited to see Tate. Excited to see if he wants to spend time with me after he closes up again. Last night we kept to innocent flirting after Tate’s mesmerising kisses, and it was honestly the most fun I have had in a long time.
I feel so light and carefree when I’m with him. I can’t even understand it, let alone explain it. It just feels . . . right. Maybe we were BFFs in a past life? He sure is working his way to becoming my new bestie in this one.
Swinging open the front door to the café, my stomach drops when I don’t see Tate straight away. My face falls in disappointment as I realise he’s not going to see the hot outfit I picked out just for him. I wanted to see his reaction when I sashayed across the room wearing these sky-high killer red heels.
Shaking my head, I make my way over to who I assume is Steven. The guy who I should’ve worn my skin-tight black jeans and lace black top for, not Tate.
Steven stands to greet me with a huge smile on his face. His eyes roam the length of my body, and his stare is full of lust. I’m glad someone appreciates the effort I went to.
He is tall, like, really tall. He must be six-foot-six. The closer I get towards him, the more intimidated I feel.
“Hi,” I say as I approach.
“Harper. Great to meet you.”
Steven doesn’t step away from the table for a friendly hug or offer his hand, so I take my seat. Glancing back at the counter looking for Tate, my shoulders drop when I still don’t see him.
“I love your shoes.” Steven’s comment brings my attention back to the table.
“Oh, thanks.” I gaze down longingly at them. Apparently, they’ve made the exact statement I wanted them to, just to the wrong audience.
“Harper.” I look up to find Tate standing at the table, breathing heavy and frowning.
“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. Where has he been?
“Yeah, I was hoping to catch you . . . before . . . er . . . earlier. I had to take a call.”
“Okay . . .” I draw out, narrowing my eyes at him in question. “Did you want to take our order?”
An excruciating pain bursts through my shin, and I yelp in my surprise.
“Did you just kick me?” I ask Tate, astonished, looking down at my shin and trying to rub the sharp pain away.
“No,” he denies, scrunching his face up as if I’m the crazy one.
Steven narrows his eyes and looks between Tate and me in confusion. I smile awkwardly at him and pick up my menu, pretending to read it.
We make our order, and thankfully, Tate leaves quietly, with no more outrageous altercations.
Steven and I chat casually as we wait for our coffees. We have both recently started new jobs and chat about our experiences. Steven tells me about often working late to learn the ropes, which explains why he is dressed in a suit, vest, and tie for a first date of coffee.
Tate delivers our order and a small plate of mini muffins. As I go to pick up my spoon and sugar packets, he blatantly pushes my spoon to the floor. Looking up to him in puzzlement, wondering what game he is playing now, Tate only raises his eyebrows, challenging me.
Challenging me to what? Pick up the spoon?
“Sorry,” he says, not making a move to pick it up.
I glare at him before I bend over and reach for my . . . What. The. Fuck.
There is a pair of bright pink, sky-high heels looking at me. Staring me straight in the face, and they are not sitting on feet that belong to me.
Harper’s body freezes as soon as she bends to pick up her spoon. I couldn’t think of any other way to bring this little problem to her attention. I watch in anticipation as she slowly rises to a sitting position.
As much as I feel sorry for her, and as much as I’m concerned about her, and as much as I was looking out for her, I’m kind of interested to see how this is going to go down.
She stares into space, not meeting my, or her date’s, curious gaze. “Excuse me,” she whispers. Carefully, she stands from the chair and makes her way to the bathroom, walking so slowly and delicately it’s as though she’s gliding like a ghost.
I watch in concern as she enters the female bathroom. I leave her table, not bothering to even look at her date. As I’m heading for the hall entry to the
bathroom, someone grabs my forearm and pulls me to a stop.
“Give her a minute,” Maurice says, smiling sadly at me.
He knows. He knows how much I like this girl, and how much I care about her already. How much she has gotten to me, and how much she’s burrowed under the surface of my skin. I want her. I want Harper more than anything I have wanted before. I just want a chance.
I agree with her; I am also worried it will ruin the friendship we have built, but it’s worth the risk. When I think of being with Harper, I don’t see it ending. What reason would there be for it to?
“Yeah, all right,” I tell Maurice, not totally convinced he’s right. I head back to my office and slam the door.
I’m frustrated. Frustrated with how long I will have to watch her torture herself. Seeing Harper with other guys bothers me, sure, but I know it’s not going anywhere. Look at the dates she’s had so far. Colossal losers.
I pace my office, trying to allow enough time before I go get her. Deciding I better go tell her date to get the hell out of here before she comes out of the bathroom, I head out to the café. I hope she hasn’t reappeared already. I should’ve told him to go as soon as she walked away, but in truth, he was the last thing on my mind.
Entering the large room, I see her table has been vacated and cleaned off. Surely, he decided to leave and not follow her into the bathroom.
Storming straight to the hall, I don’t pause as I throw open the door to the female bathroom. The room is eerily silent, and there’s no sign of anyone. All the doors are unlocked, and when I bend to look underneath there are no feet.
“Daisy? You in here?” I call out, my voice echoing off the stark-white walls.
There’s no response, but I hear a little shuffling. One by one, I push open the stall doors. When I reach the last one, Harper is sitting on the closed toilet, legs pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them.
She doesn’t appear upset; there are no tears running down her face, no red eyes or smudged mascara. There’s just a blank face—stone-cold eyes and a determined expression.
“You all right, Daisy?” I ask cautiously, taking a step inside the stall.
“I’m not going back out there. I don’t care how rude and immature it is. I’ll stay here all night if I have to. You can try and drag me out.”
“Harper.” I chuckle. “I’m not here to tell you off or make you come out. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, I’m not.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop my smile from forming. She is so damn adorable, and it makes it harder not to kiss the absolute living shit out of her.
Stepping further into the stall, I close the distance between us. I kneel down in front of her and place both my hands around her ankles, which are resting on the toilet. Rubbing her skin in a soothing motion with my thumb, I pull her legs down to rest them on either side of mine as I lean forward and rest my arms across her thighs, our faces only an inch apart.
“Is there something wrong with me?” The rejection in her whispered words tears apart something inside me, and I know I have to deal with this now. Fix this messed-up, preconceived idea she has about herself. I can’t watch this train wreck anymore.
“Harper, this experience of yours has been a total write-off. Seriously, I thought I was being ‘Punk’d.’” She giggles, and the girly laugh sends tingles up my spine. It is so opposite to the picture of herself she paints, with her black hair and fierce smoky make-up.
I’m making my move. Grabbing the bull by the horns, seizing the moment. Carpe diem.
I lean into her and her innocent smile vanishes from her face as her eyes widen. Placing my lips lightly on hers, I watch as her shoulders drop and she closes her eyes. I take it as my cue and deepen the kiss, putting more pressure and feeling into it.
I place my hand at the base of her neck and wrap my fingers through her short hair, tugging to lift her head back as I push my tongue through her perfect lips. She responds instantly, her tongue meeting mine.
We kiss for what feels like hours until Harper pulls back. I stare into her eyes, her pupils dilated. Her chest is heaving up and down, and her lips are swollen and red. I can’t keep my mouth off her so I tilt her head back again as I trail my lips from the corner of her mouth, across her jaw, and down her neck.
She lets out a low moan, and my dick jumps in response.
“Come home with me, Harper. Forget all about it. Forget about tonight, forget about all those shitty dates. I’ll make you forget.”
She doesn’t respond so I sit back on my heels to meet her eyes. They are wide and full of lust. Her normally warm brown gaze now closer to black.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“What?” Did I hear correctly?
“Make me forget.”
Reaching for her wrist, I slide her off the toilet lid and into my lap. Her eyes go wide, and before she has a chance to respond, my lips are on hers again. The fire and intensity in this kiss well outweighs the last one, which seemed more sweet and tender now.
Holding her face with both hands, I push and pull and manoeuvre her wherever I want her, Harper having no choice but to go along. The kiss is punishing, and neither one of us slows it down. We pull away abruptly when we have no other option than to breathe.
“Let’s go,” I pant.
Harper nods, unable to voice even the simplest of words.
Grasping her hand, I help her stand off me before following her up. I drag her out of the bathroom, and she pulls me to a stop momentarily as she stands in front of the mirror and quickly runs her dainty fingers through her shiny hair.
“You look perfect,” I tell her.
“I look touched up. I don’t want everyone knowing what we were doing in here.” I chuckle as I continue my mission of getting us out of here. “Who knew making out in a public restroom could be so sexy?” she says under her breath as we leave the bathroom and head down the hall.
“Wait,” she whisper-shouts as she pulls my arm sharply, dragging me to a stop. “I can’t go out there and face him. I’m sorry; I just can’t.” Her face is tight and her voice is unsure with panic and worry.
“He’s gone. It didn’t take him long before he figured you weren’t coming back, I guess.”
“Oh.” Her voice is thoughtful, sad almost, and I can’t believe she feels bad for the guy. I couldn’t give a shit about his lifestyle choices or what he chooses to do in his own time, but he should’ve told Harper about it. He should have made it public knowledge, not ambushed her in a public place on a first date.
Not wanting Harper to dwell on it anymore, I pull her through to the restaurant, which has substantially emptied out. Maurice exits the kitchen and meets my eyes. I follow his stare as it drifts towards where Harper and my hands are clutched tightly together, fingers linked. A knowing smirk creeps onto his face, and as his mouth opens to say something, I cut him off.
“I’m taking Harper home, she’s had a rough night. Can you close up for me?”
“Of course.” He grins, before turning his gaze towards Harper. “You must be tired, darling, after your little party here last night. All that liquor and shot glasses. Woo, it was a good time, yes?”
Harper’s cheeks flush red, and she squeezes my hand. She tightens it even more, and I squirm as she digs her nails in. She’s pissed.
“I’m so sorry,” she tells Maurice. “We really shouldn’t have done that. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
Maurice laughs his trademark loud chuckle, and Harper looks to me in confusion. I smile sheepishly at her and shrug, as I know what’s coming next.
“Honey, don’t apologise to me, I could care less what the boss does. It’s none of my business.” His face turns serious. “I’m sorry; I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I was just teasing.”
Harper smiles and nods once at Maurice. I can see the wheels turning. She looks up to me and her face drops. Fuck. I never lied; it just never came up. I know I’m going to have to ex
plain it later, but not until I’ve had my fill of her. I’m not chancing her running away before I get a taste.
“Okay, great, thanks Maurice. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I glare at the old man, and he gives me a ‘whoops, sorry’ face. Yeah, like it’s going to help me now.
As soon as I pull Harper into the cool night, she stops dead and releases my hand. “Tate . . .”
“Not now, Harper.” My voice is pleading. “I promise later, okay? Just not now.”
“No, Tate,” she says firmly. “I hate liars. I want you to explain now.”
“Daisy,” I beg. “I never lied. I promise I’ll explain later, but right now I can’t think of anything else but burying myself inside you.” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes and her face softens, my charm instantly morphing her reaction. I smile on the inside, happy I have that effect on her.
She nods almost imperceptibly as she looks down at her feet. The corner of my mouth tips up. Who would’ve thought? My Daisy is embarrassed by a little dirty talk. This is going to be fun.
Grasping her chin between my fingers, I pull her face up to meet mine. Being so much taller than she is, I bend down until our noses are only millimetres apart. “Don’t be shy, Daisy. Get it all out of your system now, because when I get you upstairs, there’ll be no holding back.”
Her eyes go wide and I laugh as I take hold of her hand once more. Walking down the alley, Harper passes the stairs and heads towards the garage. I pull her back and gesture up with my finger, indicating the door on the upper level.
We climb the fire escape in silence, Harper not having breathed a word since she demanded my explanation. I hope it’s not a sign of what’s to come.
I should not be doing this. There are tiny red flags popping up all over the place and I’m ignoring them all. Like I did with Aiden; like I’ve done with all the men before him.
But there is something about Tate Washington that calls to me. I trust him. I trust him when he says the he didn’t lie to me; I trust he will explain it to me later, and I trust him when he says he’s going to make me forget. That he can make me feel better.
Whatever You Do Page 11
