by Sarah Peis
She shook his hand, gaping like a fish. There goes another one. Unlike every other female, myself included, Rayna recovered quickly. “Make yourself useful and help us carry that monstrosity out to the car.” She pointed at the cake, and without waiting for a reply, she was out the door.
“This the one?” he pointed in front of him but not before placing a kiss on my cheek.
“The one and only. I usually just push it onto the trolley and then wheel it out.”
He nodded, and together we slowly pushed the cake onto the trolley.
“You usually do this by yourself?” he asked.
I shook my head and followed him out the door. “Nah, Rayna helps me. Or more accurately, I help her.”
Jameson pushed the cake next to the open van and lifted it inside without waiting for me to give him a hand. Nice.
Rayna winked at me behind Jameson’s back. I grinned back at her, because really, what else was there to do?
“Thanks, Jameson. I got it from here.” She turned to me. “Thanks for your help today, honey. Go home and make me proud. Just not a great aunt yet.”
I turned beet red and narrowed my eyes at her. “Rayna,” I hissed through clenched teeth. She was gone before I could yell at her.
“Hungry?” Jameson asked.
“Always.”
“Let’s get some breakfast.”
“Together?”
He took my hand and pulled me along. “I hope that was a rhetorical question. Come on, I haven’t eaten yet.”
And that’s how I found myself next to Jameson, eating grilled egg and bacon sandwiches for the second morning in a row.
I just finished the last sip of my coffee and debated the wisdom of having another cup, which would bring my total up to five for today, when Jameson nudged my thigh with his. “So have you thought about coming back to work for me? Maybe a few days a week?” I opened my mouth to tell him no, and he held up his hands to stop me. “Just for a few hours.”
I thought about it. The money he offered was great, and I could really use it. Next semester was going to be intense since I was taking extra classes so I could finish earlier. I really shouldn’t say no to the added income.
“Three days and no more than four hours at a time.”
“Four days and no more than three hours at a time.”
“That’s an extra day that I’d have to come in. Three days and maybe I can be persuaded to go up to five hours.”
He studied me, and seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he put an arm around me, leaning in close. “And what could I do to persuade you to stay five hours?”
I pursed my lips and tapped my cheek with my finger. “Good question. What have you got?”
He kissed me sweetly on my mouth, keeping it all PG, much to my disappointment.
“Free breakfast.”
I grinned at him. “A girl’s gotta eat. What else?”
He kissed me again, and once again it was much too chaste and over too quickly. “Frequent sleepovers.”
I nodded. “A girl’s gotta sleep.”
His next kiss was more heated, and I felt my breathing speed up. “Free mechanical services.”
“A girl’s gotta keep her car working.”
He went in for the kill and kissed me again, this time his tongue traced my bottom lip, and I opened instantly. He swooped in, and I sighed into his mouth. Finally.
He stopped as quick as he had started and looked at me. “Do we have a deal?”
I nodded. “How could I say no to all that.” My eyes swept up and down his body, and we both knew I wasn’t talking about his free breakfast.
“Let’s go to the garage. The boys will be excited to have you back.”
“Just the boys?”
He nudged me to get up and shuffled out of the booth after me. “Maybe me too. But that all depends if you can show me how to use the accounting software you installed. Might be good if you wrote down all the passwords too, just so I can access my own computer.”
I shook my head and followed him out the door, marveling at the ease in which he took my hand like he’d done it a million times before. “You didn’t have to offer me my job back to get me to give you the passwords or show you how the software works.”
“I know. And that’s definitely not why I did it.”
He helped me into his car, and we drove the short distance to the garage. He never once let go of my hand.
It was like I’d never left. As soon as we arrived, Landon hugged me tight and complained about the lack of cupcakes. Mason winked at me when I passed his bay, and Clay nodded his head at me the same way he’d done so many times before. I had to admit that I would have missed the shit out of these guys if I had stuck to my guns and quit.
Jameson disappeared as soon as he was satisfied I was back in my office chair and wouldn’t go anywhere.
Another great thing about continuing to work at Drake’s was unlimited access to the coffee machine. And that’s where I was when Landon came in, catching me having a little one on one time with the magical device.
“Oh how I’ve missed you, you little piece of awesomeness. Let momma make herself a golden drink of heaven,” I said.
“Good to see you still worship the coffee gods. You’re also the only person who knows how to work the machine so the coffee is actually drinkable.” He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs around the table and put his feet up. “You gonna take pity on me and make me a cup as well?”
“Of course.” I hid my grin and grabbed another cup. He was making this too easy. The machine was simple to use; all you had to do was press a few buttons. No idea how the guys couldn’t figure it out. I even steamed the milk for him, but only to hide the blue food die I slipped into his cup. His mouth would be stained for at least a day. Payback was a bitch.
I had to work hard to suppress the giggles wanting to burst out and stuffed an old bagel in my mouth that I found in the fridge to shut myself up.
“So you finally got laid, huh?” Landon said in between sips.
I stopped chewing my dry bagel and shot him a glare. After a sip of my own coffee, I managed to swallow the sawdust in my mouth and respond. “What makes you say that? Can’t a girl just be happy because it’s a nice day and she’s with her friends?”
Landon got up and picked his cup up off the bench while I smothered my bagel in cream cheese. “Sure you can. But I know that you spent ages in Jameson’s apartment after he dragged you off. And seeing as you two are obviously still talking, I’d say he finally got in your pants.”
“What do you mean finally?”
He winked at me and showed his dimple. “You’ve got something in your teeth.” With that last parting comment, he disappeared out the door, and I raced to the bathroom to remove the piece of bagel that was lodged in my teeth.
The second I looked in the mirror and opened my mouth, I let out a shriek to rival all shrieks. That jerkoff farthead. My mouth was blue. He managed to switch our cups without me noticing. Damn you, bagel, you lured me in, distracted me with your sawdust consistency, and let him mess with me again.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror and balled my fists. “Landon needs to die,” I said to blue-mouthed me. I had people to kill and a mouth to wash out.
I was running out to the garage floor, coming slightly unhinged.
“Where’s the fire?” Mason asked, when I stumbled over a wrench he had left on the floor.
“No fire. Where’s Landon?”
His eyes went wide, and he started chuckling.
When I yelled at him, “What?” he started laughing so hard his face turned red. I pushed him out of the way.
“Not a word.” The threat went unanswered, and he started singing the song, “Blue.” If I hadn’t already set my sights on Landon, I would have stopped and taken the time to inflict some hurt on Mason.
I walked to Landon’s bay but was stopped by a big hand snaking around my waist and lifting me up. I struggled against the tight hold and kicke
d out my feet. “Let me go. This doesn’t concern you.”
A chuckle sounded too close to my ear to be ignored. Jameson’s warm breath fanned across my cheek, and I stilled in his arms. “Let’s take this back to the office.”
“But I need to talk to Landon.” My weak protest died a quick death when he ignored me and carried me into the office, much to the amusement of the whole workshop. Traitors.
Once in the office, Jameson sat me on the desk and moved in front of me to thwart my escape attempts. “I’m guessing the reason why your mouth is blue is Landon.”
“You guessed correctly,” I mumbled, avoiding opening my mouth.
“What did you do?”
“What did I do? Why do you immediately think this is my fault? My mouth is blue, not his.”
He didn’t respond, but his face said it all. He didn’t believe a word. I huffed out a breath, annoyed that he knew exactly whose fault it was my mouth was blue. I needed to work on my poker face.
“Fine. I put the food dye in his coffee, and he must have switched our cups when I wasn’t looking.” I avoided his eyes and stared at his lips instead, which turned out wasn’t the greatest idea I ever had since it made me want to kiss him. But I decided that I was mad at him for not defending me, so there would be no kissing in his future.
“There is mouthwash in the bathroom. Not sure if that will help, but it’s worth a try.” He stepped back to let me off the desk, and I stormed past him without a second glance. “Oh, and, Willa, you should know that Landon never loses.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The mouthwash didn’t help much. When I usually got food dye on my skin at the bakery, I used lemon or baby wipes to get rid of it. Of course, neither was anywhere to be found in the office.
I dumped the coffee in the sink and made myself a new cup. Time to regroup and figure out how to make Landon pay.
My phone vibrated on the counter where I dropped it in my rush to get to Landon. I didn’t recognize the number but picked it up anyway. Could be Dad. “Hello?”
“Willa. I believe your dad has a debt to me that he is unable to pay.”
Oh, for all that is holy, what the fuck had he done now? “Who the hell are you?” I was as tight as a bowstring.
“My name is Jacob. And that’s no way to talk to the person holding Garret Montgomery’s life in his hands.”
A gasp escaped me before I could stop it, and I lowered the phone. My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor right where I stood in the middle of the kitchen. The floor was disgusting, covered in grease and green fluid, but I didn’t care.
“Where is he?” My voice was loud, too loud. I had to get my shit together or risk pissing off the guy on the other end of the line more than I already had. “What did you do to him?” I added with much less force; this time my voice was pleading. Also not a good thing. Show no weakness and all that.
“Nothing yet. And his future well-being depends on you.”
“Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” Wrong thing to say again. Hearing that Dad had gotten himself into trouble again so soon had thrown me so far off course, I didn’t know if I would be able to walk in a straight line any time soon.
“I know you will. You and I have a deal to make.”
“What kind of deal?”
“The one where I get my money.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Meet me. I’ll text you directions.”
I was so screwed. Surprisingly, I still hadn’t won the lottery or inherited a fuckload of money.
“I will but can I talk to—”
The bastard hung up on me, but what did I expect? I tried calling Dad, but unsurprisingly he didn’t pick up his phone. I left him a message to call me. Des was next. “Killa. What’s a-shakin’ little bacon?”
“Have you seen Dad today?”
“I think he’s still sleeping. Last I saw of him was last night when he came home. Hasn’t left his trailer since.”
If that was true, my life would have just improved significantly.
“Can you please go and check?”
“Everything okay?”
“I’m fine, everything’s fine. Just want to make sure Dad’s doing all right.”
“Are you still not talking to him?”
Des’s voice sounded accusing, and I didn’t like it. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. My voice got defensive. “He made me drive all the way to Vegas because he gambled away everything but the clothes on his back. Now ask me again if I’m mad at him.” Did I really have to defend myself?
“It was a mistake. He thought he had a sure bet.”
Always defending Dad. It was getting old. “Stop it. He always thinks it’s a sure bet. But it never is. Has he ever won anything more than a free drink at O’Malley’s?”
“He won a car once. When you were born. That’s why he thinks you’re his good luck charm.”
I knew about the car since Dad liked to bring it up every time I told him he never won anything. “That was over twenty years ago.”
I heard Des open the trailer door in the background, the screeching noise unmistakable.
“Oh shit, not again.”
My heart missed a beat at his words. “He’s not there, is he?”
“He’s probably just gone out to get some coffee. I must have missed him when I was taking a shower. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“No, he won’t. Thanks anyway. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Now, honey, don’t jump to conclusions. This might not mean anything.”
I hung up without saying goodbye, because there really wasn’t anything left to say. We both knew that the second Garret Montgomery disappeared, something was seriously wrong.
And the fact that he didn’t call me himself made my whole body sweat. It definitely didn’t mean anything good.
I snuck out of the building and into my car, hoping nobody would notice I was gone.
“Ma’am, are you aware that you were going ten miles over the speed limit? I’m going to need to see your driver’s license.”
I knew I should have slowed down going past Venter Avenue. The cops always sat there. It was close to the coffee shop, not too far from the station. Ideal location. And lots of idiots, myself included, who tried to make the light before it turned red.
“Was I? I didn’t realize. I always stick to the speed limit.”
The police officer looked at me with a frown, and it was clear this wasn’t the first time he’d heard that line. He went back to his cruiser to check my license and took his sweet time about it. I watched the minutes tick by, and when he didn’t reappear after ten minutes, I got out of the car. Bad mistake. Very bad mistake.
“Ma’am, you need to get back in your car,” he shouted and drew a gun on me. A fucking gun. As if I was going to hurt him just to get out of him writing me a lousy ticket.
I held up my hand in a placating gesture. “I really need to be somewhere. If you could just give me my ticket and send me on my way, I’d appreciate it.”
“Get back in your car.”
“Who died and made you the boss,” I grumbled but did as I was told. It would be hard to help Dad if I was shot thanks to Officer I-take-my-job-too-seriously.
At least my move seemed to speed things up, and he came back a few minutes later. I looked at him and didn’t like what I found. He didn’t have my license or a ticket.
“Are you aware that you have ten overdue parking fines and three speeding tickets, all of which you acquired within the last two months?”
“Impossible. I never speed.” I was so going to hell. Or at the least my nose would grow so big I would be able to dry my laundry on it.
“I have to keep your license and you will need to pay your fines or this will go to court. Once you pay your fines, you can get your car back from the impound yard on Second Street.”
Shit, that was a big chunk of money I was supposed to come up with. I grabbed my bag and climbed out of my car. A
t least I was only a few blocks from my apartment.
After another lecture on the importance of sticking to the speed limit and not parking in front of a fire hydrant, I was sent on my merry way. The least they could have done is offer me a ride, but apparently a break-in was more urgent, and they had to go. Fine. What did I care?
I checked my phone and found a text from Jacob.
4576 N Lincoln Ave.
I didn’t know if he wanted a reply, but I felt I somehow had to acknowledge the text, because that’s how it worked when you had manners.
I typed out a quick OK and hit Send.
When I looked down again to make sure the message had gone through, I tripped and nearly made close acquaintance with a trash can.
Instead of sending OK, the message read: I like big butts and I cannot lie
I quickly typed another message, hoping he hadn’t read this one.
I didn’t mean to say that. I meant to say OK
I hit Sent and the OK had once again changed to I like big butts and I cannot lie. This could not be happening. Not now, but really not ever. I tried again, this time spelling the OK out to okay.
And what did you know, it worked. Someone must have messed with my autocorrect. Cursing, I sprinted down the road, praying I would make it on time.
I rushed inside my apartment, out of breath and without a plan. What did someone take to go and rescue their dad?
I was distracted from my mental inventory when a sharp little bark sounded and a ball of fur came racing into my apartment. “Hey, Churchill,” I greeted Mrs. Winters’s puppy.
He raced past me and up on my couch to attack one of my pillows. Cute little puppy had just turned into a demon dog. “No, stop that. I still need them.” I tried to get my pillow back, and after a few tugs back and forth, managed to save most of it.
There was another bark and a loud noise, and the little demon was racing past me with something pink in his mouth. I didn’t own any dog toys, and whatever he was holding had been under my couch. Which meant … “Noooooo. Come back here.”
