by Leanne Davis
“Drugs? What are these drugs?” Did Chet even do drugs? Was it opium? Or some mysterious hallucinogenic substance? She had no idea. “What did you give me?” She hissed at him with suspicion.
He bowed his head down, fixing his eyes to the ground, as usual. “Aspirin.”
“Oh. Shit.” Chloe fell silent. Crap. She sniffed the snot in her sinus cavity and shut her eyes, shaking her head. “Sorry… I… you…”
He didn’t answer so she sat upright. Her shoulders folded forward and she was staring listlessly at the floor. “My sister is dead.”
He didn’t respond. Chloe slid her tongue over her teeth and swallowed. Saying the words out loud still didn’t make them more real. “My identical twin sister was murdered. Her body was found in a swamp. Decaying and rotting.” She lifted her gaze toward him but her eyes ached. They burned and hurt, feeling bruised. As if she stared too long into the sun without sunglasses. He averted his eyes from her and stood there stock-still. The expression on his face was vacant.
“Did you hear me? Do you hear me? Do you understand… oh… hell.”
She should have known. She was his employer and had been for the past three years. Even longer to his mother. Five? Yes, it had been something like five years since Dok Willapana began working for them. Ebony handled all the hiring and bookwork. She was a business major and unfamiliar with the cooking and food preparation. Meanwhile, Chloe attended culinary school and learned how to run a kitchen. She did not, however, know how to run a restaurant. Now she had to because of her sister’s unexpected disappearance.
Chloe had to do it all and was the first to admit the bookwork suffered severely under her management. Ryder Kincaid assumed Ebony’s share and became Chloe’s silent partner, although he wanted nothing to do with the daily running of it. He signed over the running of the daily business to Chloe outright, but she wanted him to take an interest in the finances. That way, if it failed or hit harder times, she had a buffer. Having to run it all, she inadvertently let a few things slide, like perhaps, the vetting of her employees.
She hired Tara Aderly last year as a server without checking her background or anything else. She trusted her gut, and the vibe she sensed from Tara was a good one. So far, things had turned out amazing. Tara was blonde, pretty, sweet and quiet and everyone responded well to her, the young and old, men and women, and black and white. There was something very likeable about her, and as a server, she was competent, proficient, and earnest. Her services resulted in big tips, which became a win-win for Chloe and the café.
In the same vein, when Dok asked her to hire her son as a busboy and dishwasher, she consented without even meeting him. He filled out the job application but she never read it. In that moment, she regretted her sloppiness in background checking. She should have known who was working for her. Ebony would never return to her job or do her part again and that was a drain on Chloe’s strength.
Chloe shuddered as the reality barreled through her system. It was just as harsh and fierce as when Ryder first said the words. She knew the real reason why she let the business end exist so loosely and free. Originally, it was due to a sense of rebellion. Her half-assed efforts were aimed at punishing Ebony for leaving. It was Chloe’s way of saying, “Screw you, Ebony, for running out on your job and leaving it all to me.”
Now there was no longer an Ebony to punish. For over three years, Chloe’s anger and resentment slowly festered. She not only bad-mouthed her own sister to Ryder, but to others too. She did so many things that she now regretted from the mistaken belief that her sister had willingly left her family and her. She thought Ebony had abandoned them. There was no other way to interpret the note she mailed them. Or to account for all the money she’d stolen from the savings account she shared with Ryder. Only now, today, at this moment, did she realize there was no abandonment. She was murdered. And someone else forced her to rob Ryder and write such a heartless letter. Chloe bent forward as her stomach cramped when she tried to imagine the circumstances that compelled Ebony to do those things.
As clearly as she knew her own name, Chloe realized that Ebony would never have done what they assumed for so many years and blamed her for. She would never have abandoned her own son. Of course not. Chloe knew that. She should have known it anyway. She should have fought for and defended her sister against the blatant frame-up. It was too obvious to be the truth. In her heart, Chloe felt betrayed that the sister she knew so well could act in ways that were so unlike her. Her anger toward Ebony only spiraled into rage. Yet, at the root of it, she missed her sister so damn much. She could not handle all the disappointment caused by her sister.
“I understand.” Chet’s voice broke through her foggy haze. What? She jerked her gaze back to Chet. Back to right now. Here. The day she learned her sister’s fate. She also just insulted someone who never did or said a mean thing to her or for that matter, a nice thing either. Not until now when he lifted her off the bathroom floor.
She wiped her eyes, which continued to leak tears no matter how often she squeezed them tightly to stop them. She tried to regain her bearings. “I’m sorry… I’m so… sad. I don’t know what I’m saying or doing. It’s just… you never talked to me before.” She shook her head. Why the hell did that matter now? She wasn’t sure she even noticed it before. Still, that’s all he said. “Do you realize that, Chet? I don’t think we’ve ever had a real conversation before.”
She lifted her eyes back up to him and his lips curled on one side. Was it a smile? But his only response to her was a nod. Under normal circumstances, her cheeks would have burned with embarrassment for not noticing it before. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances and she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel normal again.
She sighed and Chet’s strange behavior was a temporary distraction to keep her grief at bay. She welcomed it. Her suffocating tears receded for a moment. She got to her feet, and her knees were weak, nearly buckling when she tried to stand up. She stepped towards her desk to grab a tissue. She took several from the box and blew her nose. Throwing them away, she wiped her eyes. The white tissues were smeared with black from her mascara that ran everywhere. She blew her nose again. Something she most likely wouldn’t have done with anyone else close to her. But today, what did it matter? Nothing mattered anymore.
“I spent the last three years hating her… and loving her. How can that be? How could I hate my own twin?” She pressed her hands flat on her desk, leaning over it with her weight on her upper body. Chet was easy to talk to, almost like confessing to oneself. He didn’t answer or react to anything she said. And neither condemned nor agreed with her. It was refreshing and right then, as raw as her nerves and emotions were, it managed to help her. “How could I not have known the truth? How could I ever have assumed she abandoned her own baby?” Her voice trembled as she whispered and her head bounced back and forth. Over and over, she thought about it, as if her denial could somehow undo her former beliefs and the past. But she knew it couldn’t. Nothing could. The guilt she endured ripped her in half and was every bit as incapacitating as the grief and loss.
She felt hands touching her back. One hand on each shoulder. Warm and solid, Chet’s hands were on her, cupping her shoulders. He had big hands, enough to cover most of her shoulder, and his fingers were kneading her upper arm and her back. The heat of his hand radiated through the smooth silk of her blouse. She sucked in a startled breath. Chet slowly pulled her upright and turned her all the way around. Her body was like a rag doll, drained by her grief. Surprised to be turned around and facing him with her back to the desk, she stared up curiously. She bit her lip and her gaze rose to his. He wore a white t-shirt as usual. Sometimes, he wore a sweatshirt over it. Today, it was just a thin, plain, white T with jeans. His hair fell forward as he bent his head down towards her. It was a long way considering their substantial height difference. But he leaned forward, getting closer to her.
What in the hell? Why was he leaning towards her? What did he expect to do? Kiss he
r? Confused and dizzy, Chloe couldn’t move or think… and then his lips descended onto hers.
Chapter Two
CHLOE WAS SO SURPRISED, she allowed a gasp to escape. But Chet’s lips touched hers in the gentlest and most tender kiss. It felt like a soft, warm, refreshing breeze passing over the top of her skin. Her body fell towards him. His hands moved from gripping her shoulders to grasping her arms and holding her up. His mouth drifted over hers, brushing over both of her lips and sweeping back and forth, first on her upper lip and then on her lower. Her mouth stayed open to his. Her arms were locked at her sides. He had to loom over her to reach her mouth. Instead of pushing him away, and clinging to the last strands of sanity, she lifted her hands up towards his chest and grabbed his shirt. She scrunched the fabric up in her fists and pulled him closer. Why? Why would she do that? How could she? What was she doing? Her life had virtually tipped over and toppled during the last hour and there was no up or down anymore. No normal. No feeling okay.
She whimpered when the fresh assault of grief slammed through her. Stealing her breath despite her mouth’s fusion with Chet’s, a sense of dizziness affected her brain and she tried to comprehend what was happening to her body. How could this be? She lost track of where and why she was there. Her body felt boneless as she let him move closer, pushing her back a step until her lower back hit her desk. Her fists opened and slid up his chest in a slow creep. He seemed to take that as her invitation to come even closer. His hips tucked harder against her body, bumping into her stomach while his hands encircled her and dropped down to the back of her waist.
His mouth opened and his tongue slipped towards the seam of her mouth. He softly licked and stroked her tongue and her entire body reacted, making her knees go rubbery. His tongue moved forward aggressively as she opened her mouth wider to him. His tongue was bold and strong when he stroked her lips and tongue. Minutes passed as his hot tongue massaged hers. He pushed deeper and let her tongue tangle with his. He bent his legs, getting closer to her height, making it easier for her arms to encircle his neck. Gently lifting her, he set her bottom on the edge of her desk so his hips could move between her legs as he pressed tightly against her. She moaned in response. Her senses were out of control and she couldn’t find a coherent thought or description for her feelings. Her fingertips slipped into the warm heat of his scalp before feathering through the tips of his silky hair. His hands left her waist and flanked both sides of her butt while resting on the desk. His tongue filled her mouth again, probing deeper and growing hotter and more demanding. She tilted her head more to allow him better access. Her aching, swollen eyes were closed, and she was lost in an odd sense of bliss of… this. Whatever this was. His fingertips touched her jaw and trailed along her skin until his hand cupped the side of her face. His other hand repeated the movement on the other side and he gently held her face in his hands. He was cradling her. Chloe vacillated between feeling so hot and crazy that her head was spinning to enjoying an extraordinarily gentle sensation, as if she were a baby bird delicately nestled in his hands. That’s how light his touch was, despite his mouth, which was hot and demanding as he stroked, sucked, licked, and teased her.
Quite out of her control, tears slid from Chloe’s eyes, rolling down her cheeks and onto his hands. His thumbs curved upwards in response, brushing them away softly as he tilted her head up and released her mouth from his. His lips touched hers again for three long kisses before she was lost in his embrace. His mouth grazed hers as he moved to her cheek and then to the corner of one of her eyes. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, the hot, fresh tears filled her eyelids and overflowed in response to his tenderness. It was hot and erotic while very touching, and a genuine act of physical caring from both of them.
Chloe inhaled slowly and deeply. Her lungs were almost rattling and her insides alternated from being frozen to melting with radiant warmth. What was this? How could this be happening? What exactly was happening? Those thoughts filled her brain before dissolving when his lips once again touched hers. His kiss was so soft and light. It seemed as if he spoke to her in soothing, kind words of healing and understanding… even though… no. He couldn’t. He didn’t even know her. Much less, what she felt or thought. He and she were no more than strangers. Truly nothing beyond that, so how could this be happening? And today, of all days?
His hands left her face and slid down her body, while his thumbs just barely grazed the sides of her breasts. Her nipples beaded in painful knots at the soft, sensual thrills she felt when his hands landed innocently on her waist again.
A knock on the door filled her office. She startled, jumping, and lifted herself off the desk and fell back down. Breathing hard, they ripped their mouths apart but their gazes collided in a moment of amazement and shock. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened although his face remained impassive at seeing her panicked glance. That was always how it was with Chet. However, now there was something different in his gaze, something she’d never seen before. Was it a spark? Interest? Concern? Lust? Her curiosity was piqued and Chet seemed to morph from being Chet the busboy to something much more significant, Chet the erotic stranger. She touched her lips, suddenly startled at her epiphany. Confused, even. Then, that quickly, she returned to reality. Her sister’s body had been found. She was gone. Murdered.
Murdered.
“Chloe?” a voice called out as the knock resounded. Chloe sucked in a breath before everything came crashing down unceremoniously. She moved off the desk and quickly turned away from Chet so her blush and the peculiar sensations stirring inside her would cease or at least, not be so visible. He stepped back, giving her more space to breathe.
Ryder opened the door when Chloe failed to answer. Of course, he returned for her. She knew he would. He had to make sure Wyatt would be taken care of. Now, here he was, back to care for her.
Looking towards him, her blotchy face couldn’t possibly give away anything as it was already so messed up. His expression morphed from deep concern to sympathy. “Sorry, I had to get Tara settled to pick up Wyatt and we shut the café down.”
Chloe nodded vacantly, as if by rote. Who cared? Who cared if the café were shut down? Permanently, even? Why did any of it matter anymore? Nothing did now, except Wyatt. He mattered. Other than him, Chloe could not picture working in or caring about the café ever again. Chet stood back, and she peeked at him. His head was bent forward. His eyes looked at her without lifting his head. Her heart was pounding very hard still. Was it from grief? From shock? From whatever just happened with Chet? She was too fuzzy and sore to care. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs and subsequent confusion. Ryder’s gaze landed on Chet, as he was, most likely, wondering what Chet was doing there.
Chet stared at Chloe for another second as he slipped past both of them and went out the door. Not a word. No explanation. Chloe had no idea what to call their encounter. If anything. Did it really happen? Or did her grief concoct an entire illusion?
“Chet… found me in the bathroom and helped me get back over here…” she said in a voice that didn’t ring quite true or sound wholly innocent.
Ryder, however, didn’t seem to think it was odd or off. He was not suspicious although his expression fell as he stepped closer. “Oh, Chloe. Come here.” He swooped her up in his arms in a bear hug. She let herself fall against his chest as he stroked her hair. But there was no chemistry there. Not a flicker of sexual interest or hyper awareness. It was as if Chloe were hugging her dad or her uncle. She never felt anything sexual with Ryder. Not like whatever she just felt with Chet.
She closed her eyes and the burning started again. “Why do you suppose nothing ever happened between us?”
Ryder’s arm muscles flexed. She was sure she threw him a line drive with that, and right now, of all times. “What?”
She pushed back and stared up at him. “I look just like Ebony. Obviously, you were in love with her. So why not me? We’re so close even now. We got so angry at her. How come we never…?”
Ryder shook his head. “Where is this coming from?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. From nowhere. Everywhere. I just feel so confused and betrayed. And you’re the only person I want to talk to and hug… my sister’s husband—”
“Ex-husband. You forget I divorced her.”
She cringed. “You did. You didn’t know at the time though. You had to do it. You had to survive.”
He squeezed her arm with his hand. “Don’t forget that advice then because so did you. And going forward, you must push on now. Whatever it takes, just forgive yourself and make it your purpose to survive. And as for us? I was never interested in you because you weren’t her. You only looked alike on the outside. Ebony wasn’t you and vice versa.”
Her shoulders dropped. “I know. I don’t know why I asked such a stupid question.”
“Because other questions are too hard to ask right now.”
“Yes.” Chloe shut her eyes tightly, like a kid hiding from a monster in the closet. “Yes. It is. I don’t… I don’t know how to do this though. How do I continue? How do I survive after this? How can I accept my sister being murdered?”
“By taking each moment, then each hour, then each day, at a time. And by relying on me. You can call me whenever you like. I’ll always answer and be here for you.”
“I don’t think I’m strong enough to offer you the same courtesy.”
Ryder smiled gently. “I don’t need it.”
She nodded. “No, because you have Tara.” The bitterness Chloe harbored tinged her words. Pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, she consciously refrained from adding curse words about the blonde, white, pretty server that Ryder now dated. Now that he was no longer married to her sister, and a widower, and free to date.
“Not at first. Maybe not for years. Don’t try to rewrite it. It was bad. For me, it was bad then, as this is for you now.”
