by Sarah Peis
But a girl was only so strong when in close proximity to Jameson. Many had tried to resist and failed. I knew this because back in high school there was a Facebook page dedicated to him. People—or, more accurately, women—posted on there all the time. It was ridiculous. Not that I looked at it often. Only to find out what all the hype was about, and then again to find out how many likes he had. Three thousand if you were wondering. And the last time was just to show the site to Maisie and Stella, who were equally as appalled as I was.
He had left high school over five years ago, so I was sure someone had taken the page down by now. Maybe I should check to make sure. I’d be doing him a favor, really, looking out for him like that. I was such a Good Samaritan.
I decided to break the awkward silence with something friendly. We had to get over our animosity sometime. “Thanks for giving me a ride. You didn’t have to.”
“Going that way anyway.”
His gruff answer was delivered in his typical dismissive fashion. Fine, I wanted to sit in silence and stare out the window anyway.
I didn’t say anything else but give him directions. “Take the next exit.”
He turned, and we were off the freeway. The road noise quieted to a hum when we slowed down, and I directed him to the police station. When he stopped out front, he looked at me with a questioning brow.
I avoided his gaze and opened the door. “Don’t ask.”
He got out on his side and took my bike down. I held on to the handle tightly and made my way toward the front entrance. “Thanks for the ride.”
I looked back and saw him standing next to his truck, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. I felt a shiver go over my traitorous body when I watched him.
I had never been an overly sexual person, never felt the need to jump on someone or risk combusting. And he hadn’t even done anything yet. I really needed to get the name of the therapist Stella was seeing. Things were getting out of control.
I left my bike outside, leaning it against the wall, and made my way inside. “Hey, Lucy, how are things? How’s the pie business?” I asked the receptionist.
“Willa, if it isn’t my favorite little baking queen. You’ll be glad to hear that I did Humptulips proud last weekend and won the red pie baking competition. I used the strawberry recipe you helped me work on. It went down a treat.”
I was giddy with excitement at her win. We had been working on her recipe for weeks. I rushed around the counter, something that was usually forbidden unless you wanted to get arrested. But seeing as I was here damn near every week, I got special privileges. And we shared a common love for hugs.
“Congratulations, I knew you could do it,” I said and threw my arms around her.
“Thanks, Willa, couldn’t have done it without you.”
She sat back down at her desk, and I waved her off. “Don’t be silly. Of course you could have. Your pies kick ass. No better ones out there.”
She blushed at my compliment, and I knew I had said the right thing.
“Willa. You here for your old man?” a voice interrupted us.
“Tony. I sure am. What’d he do this time?”
“Took the Lancaster’s satellite dish down.”
I dropped my head in defeat. This wasn’t the first time Dad had been arrested for dismantling his neighbor’s satellite dish. He insisted it was obstructing his view. Of what, I wasn’t so sure. There were only trailers and a dump out there.
“Did they press charges this time?”
“I managed to talk them out of it, but only if he puts it all back exactly the way it was. Sorry, Willa, might have to get someone out to get it done.”
I gulped at the thought of having to pay for someone to come out. My budget was already stretched, and there was no way I could pay someone without having to eat ramen noodles for the next year. I hated ramen noodles.
“I’ll make sure it gets done. Sorry to make you drive all the way out there again.”
“No problem, hun. I’ll get him so you can take him home. Try and stop him from doin’ it again though, yeah?”
“Of course.”
He went to get Dad while I completed the paperwork with Lucy. She shot me a pitying look that I hated but sadly was all too used to.
Tony brought Dad out, but I didn’t look at him. He knew I was upset. One look at my face told him everything. I had never been good at hiding my emotions.
He followed me out of the station without a word. When I got my bike and turned toward the street only to see a familiar truck, I nearly rolled over my bike in my haste to get away.
Jameson was leaning against the door, arms crossed, watching me intently. Another shiver went down my body, and I jumped at the sensation. He needed to stop looking at me.
I tried to walk past him, but the fact that he had clearly waited for me to come back out should have told me I wouldn’t get away without talking to him.
“Mr. Montgomery. Good to see you again,” Jameson said.
He was entirely too civil. This was the man who owed him a shitload of money. Someone he watched walk out of jail after committing yet another crime. And he greeted him like they were old bowling buddies.
“I’ll give you a lift home. Or if you want me to drop you off somewhere along the way, I’d be happy to,” he said.
“Jameson, good to see you again. Home is just fine for now. I gotta go and see if my neighbors have put their satellite dish up again. That thing is a monstrosity. Nobody needs a thousand channels in their life. Nobody.”
“Dad,” I drew the word out to let him know I meant business. “Part of your release agreement is that you put the dish back up. Don’t even think about doing anything else.”
“I have a right to a view. And that impossible dish is destroying it. I’m not putting it back up.”
Not willing to continue the argument in front of Jameson, who was paying us entirely too much attention, I pushed my bike toward the road. “Let’s discuss it at home.” I turned to Jameson. “Thanks for the offer, but if you drop us off, you’ll be late to pick up your parts. They close in thirty minutes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jameson ignored me and instead lifted my bike and placed it in the back of his truck. My protest was weak, and I only managed a grumbled “Hey” before he opened the passenger door and motioned us inside. “Hop in.”
Too stunned to protest, I watched Dad get into the passenger seat. With no other option except to take the bus, I climbed into the back.
I realized the error of my choice immediately when Dad started talking about his homemade schnapps. He loved making the vile poison and could chew your ear off about the best way to make the stuff. To my surprise, Jameson responded when necessary and asked questions as if he was actually interested.
I just didn’t understand him. Part of me didn’t want him to get along with Dad. I most definitely didn’t want him to see where I grew up. And where I would most likely be living again soon unless Dad stopped making me pay for his bail.
We pulled up to the trailer, and I cringed at the chaos. The yard was a mess, and I spotted empty bottles and food wrappers littering the ground. Jameson parked and got out. He put my bike up against the garden bench and turned back to Dad.
“Do you have the tools you used to get the dish down?”
Dad pointed to where the dish lay on the ground, tools scattered all around it. “They’re over there. I didn’t get a chance to put them away before they arrested me.”
I watched in confusion as Jameson picked up the ladder, put it on the side of the neighbor’s trailer, and climbed up, tools and half the dish in hand. After fastening the base, he came back down to get the rest. I stepped in front of him before he got far. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought that was obvious.” He tapped the dish he was holding and walked around me.
“Okay, then why are you doing it?”
“You need the dish back up. I’m putting it back up.”
I didn’t r
eally have an answer for him this time. Because I did need the dish back up, and I didn’t have the money to pay for it. His kindness was surprising. I was grateful for his help because there was no way I could do it myself.
With that thought, I shut up—something that was as frustrating as it was exhausting—and took a step back to get out of his way. I should accept his help with grace and move on. It would be the right thing to do, but it was hard. Especially when the help came from Jameson.
He finished putting everything back up in no time at all. “Where do you want the tools?” He asked Dad who pointed to the table. “Leave ’em there. Willa’s gonna put them away later.”
I ground my teeth at his statement. I knew I would be the one to clean up the mess, but it still didn’t feel good to have Dad point it out. He made me look like his maid.
“Where do they go?” Jameson asked me.
I shook my head. “It’s all right. I have to clean up anyway.”
“Willa.” His tone suggested I should stop arguing.
My brain, on the other hand, suggested I should continue arguing. “It’s fine. Really. I’ve got it.”
He shook his head but did as instructed. I bet he couldn’t wait to get out of here. Which he did, thankfully. He lightly put a hand on my arm, and I nearly didn’t hear him when he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His touch lingered long after he’d gone, and I realized just how much trouble I was in. I was the moth drawn to the flame, and I would get burned if I got too close.
I ended up staying at Dad’s until nearly midnight.
“I’m going to water the grass,” Dad declared and heaved himself out of his chair. I stood up to block his path.
“Sit back down.” I stood in front of the door to prevent him from going outside.
“Nothing wrong with wanting to take care of my lawn,” Dad grunted but backed away from the door.
It was late. I was tired. And sick of babysitting Dad. “Can you act like a responsible adult for once in your life and promise me to leave the dish alone?”
Dad scratched at the leather of his worn chair, a task that required all his attention.
I tried again. “Dad, please. If I want to have any hope of being a functioning human tomorrow, I need to get some sleep, but I won’t go home until you promise.”
“Fine.”
“Say it.”
He grimaced but looked at me this time. “I promise not to try and take the ugly monstrosity down tonight.”
Des would be back in the morning. If I could keep Dad from doing anything stupid until then, we’d be good.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hugged Dad and stepped out of the trailer. The cold wind hit me like a brick, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Big mistake, because now my lungs were frozen solid. I coughed and cackled until my body got used to being flash frozen. The ride home was going to be fun. I was only in my T-shirt, not anticipating being outside until late.
I wished I had my old ratty jacket. Maisie called it an eyesore, and Stella said it made me look homeless. I thought it was warm and comfortable.
As predicted, I was frozen solid by the time I got home, my hands and fingers numb. I fought with the front door, eventually pushing it open enough to get through. I dragged myself up the stairs, barely managing to pull my bike up behind me. I was sure I made more noise than necessary but just didn’t care. I felt like shit and was ready to drop into bed.
And that’s exactly what I did as soon as I put the bike inside the apartment where it landed with a loud bang. I just hoped I wouldn’t sleep through my alarm again.
I slept through my alarm again. When I finally made it to Sweet Dreams, Rayna had already finished a whole batch of cookies that looked like… penises?
I must have said it out loud because she harrumphed and shot me an evil glare. “Those are Christmas decorations.” She pointed at the penis. “Candle.” And moved on to the balls. “Baubles.”
“Right. Looks great. Especially since it’s October and all.” I tied my apron and washed my hands, something that was as routine to me as breathing. “Where do you want me?”
“I’m practicing for Christmas, and you’re late.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Punctuality is the politeness of kings.”
Someone had studied her inspirational quotes last night.
I spotted the list of orders for today and picked the top one. Cherry pie. Something I could bake in my sleep. Which I might have to since my eyes were still only half open. Where was the coffee?
By the time we finished all the orders, my head was throbbing and I was barely able to stand up straight.
“You look a little green, dear,” Rayna not very helpfully pointed out.
“Didn’t get enough sleep,” I responded in between sips of coffee. I didn’t go as crazy as yesterday, but I doubted I would have felt the effects anyway. I was dead on my feet. And my day had only just started.
“Get out of here. We’re all finished, and I can manage putting everything out into the shop by myself.”
“You sure?”
“Opportunity comes but does not linger.”
Oh, kill me now. “Needed some inspiration yesterday?”
“You know it. There wasn’t anything on television, so I decided to catch up on my reading.”
I certainly didn’t linger and wait for more quotes. Instead I made my way over to Drake’s Garage. Maybe I could sleep a little before anyone came into the office.
The door was unlocked when I got there. A look at the time confirmed the phones wouldn’t start ringing for an hour. Grateful for the short reprieve, I dropped onto the couch. It was comfortable and long enough that I could just lie down. I would just rest my eyes for a minute before I got started.
“We should wake her up.”
“But she looks so peaceful.”
“Like a princess.”
“More like a child. Look how small she is.”
“But we need her to talk to the delivery guy. I’m not signing for the coffee machine.”
“Neither am I.”
“Not it.”
The voices sounded familiar. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at three curious faces. I stretched my tired limbs, still feeling exhausted.
“How long have you been staring at me?” I asked and heaved my body into a seated position.
“Not too long.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Just got here.”
They all answered at the same time. I guess it was safe to say they had been here long enough to push them into the creep territory. I was too tired to care and waved them off.
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
Shit. I got up and made my way past Landon, Mason, and Clay.
“There’s a delivery you need to sign for,” Landon said and pushed a pad into my hand.
I took it and scribbled my name at the bottom. Satisfied, he went outside, where I could see him speak to a delivery guy. They talked for a few minutes before going to the back of the van and coming out with a giant coffee machine.
Huh, I knew I had ordered one but didn’t think it was that big. Looked smaller in the photo.
They carried it inside, the giant machine almost as wide as the door.
“Jameson’s gonna flip his shit,” Clay said on his way to the back door, the glee evident on his face.
Landon came back out of the kitchen where they put the coffee machine and grinned at me. “I take my coffee black with two sugars.”
“Coming right up,” I said and went to test out the glorious machine. I really did have great ideas sometimes.
It was official. I was in love. I had never tasted better coffee. Not even Rayna was able to make coffee more glorious than what I was currently holding in my hand. I made all the guys a cup and was pretty happy with my fantastic idea to buy the machine. I also managed to file every single piece of paper that was still on my desk and now had a great system i
n place: sorting papers alphabetically.
Who would have thought something so simple could mean I’d be able to find anything in the span of a few seconds. I was mightily happy with myself.
I was tired, but my spirits were high and I thought I had finally worked out this job. I still wasn’t able to answer any enquiries unless they included opening hours for the shop. Every time someone wanted to book in a job, I had to ask one of the guys when they were free, which brought me to my next genius project. I needed to make a schedule for everyone to keep track of their jobs. That could wait until after I had my delicious cup of heaven.
The loud bang of the door caused me to spill coffee all over the floor. Jameson came stalking in, not acknowledging me but going straight to the door that led into the kitchen. The next thing I heard was a loud growl. He sounded like a wolf. A very unhappy wolf.
“Willa,” he yelled. My eyes went wide, my hands started trembling, and I broke out in a cold sweat. That was definitely not a nice, “come and have a chat with me” call. It was an “if you’re not in here in two seconds, I’ll burn all your dolls and hang their carcasses off my car” yell.
I clutched my mug and tiptoed into the kitchen. Jameson was standing in front of the coffee machine, arms crossed as he seemed to like doing so much, gaze fixed on me. I wished he’d go back to the garage to do whatever he did out there instead of focusing all his attention on me.
His jaw was clenched tight, the little muscle jumping up and down in what looked like barely controlled anger. “Explain.”
I set one foot into the kitchen, then another, careful not to make any sudden movements. “The coffee machine or your constant foul mood?”
His eyes narrowed. Okay, not the right time to be a smart-ass. But there was still time to salvage this. I had great reasons for buying it. Okay, one great reason. “Everyone loves coffee. We can now offer coffee to customers while they are waiting, or during meetings. If you have a slow month, we can sell it.” And just to make sure he got my original point, I repeated, “Everyone loves coffee.”
