My Uptown Girl

by C. Morgan

  I checked the address I jotted down earlier and drove through town. I knew the area well. I parked my truck in front of the restaurant that had passed hands more than I could count. Part of me felt bad for the new owner. No restaurant had lasted long in the area. My new client might be a short-lived situation. I would take the business while I could get it.

  A sign declaring a restaurant was coming soon hung in the window. I almost walked away. I wasn’t interested in jumping on a sinking ship. I reminded myself I needed the money. This restaurant was a means to an end.

  I opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of fresh paint and what I thought might be plastic permeated the air. It wasn’t a bad smell. It was kind of like a new car smell. It smelled fresh and clean and, as cheesy as it sounded, like promise.

  I looked around the dining room that seemed like it had been painted every color of the rainbow, but this was a new one. It was a light blue, so light it was almost white. The tables were a dark wood and the floors looked like they had been redone as well. They were a pale gray color, almost like driftwood. It looked very high end. And clean. The lighting was the same, but it looked so much brighter than it had before.

  I wondered why a fancy restaurant like this was coming after my cheap lobster. Couldn’t they afford the good stuff? I could hear voices in the kitchen, along with a lot of clattering of pans. It sounded like there were a hundred people in there.

  Kerri came out of the kitchen, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail and rubber gloves on her hands. “Fulton! I didn’t hear the door.”

  “I’m not surprised, with all the noise back there.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We are cleaning. The kitchen should have just been burned to the ground in my opinion.”

  “It looks great out here.”

  She looked around, a small smile on her face. “It does, huh? She did a good job. I wasn’t totally sure I was on board with this whole cottage look, but it worked.”

  I nodded in agreement. “It’s pretty.”

  She laughed. “Pretty? Have you ever even used that word?”

  “Sure, I have. I see pretty women all the time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get Amara. Trust me. You aren’t going to turn those blue eyes on her and get anywhere. She will eat you for lunch.”

  I grinned, offering her a wink. “I’m not interested in charming anyone. I just want the business.”

  “I put in a good word. Don’t make me look bad.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll certainly try.”

  “Have a seat,” she said before she disappeared into the kitchen again.

  I took a seat at one of the tables in the middle of the place to wait. There was more clattering and then the door was practically thrown open. A woman emerged, wiping her hands on a towel and saying something to someone in the kitchen. I didn’t hear the words. It felt like I had been hit by a bag of bricks.

  She was mine. I couldn’t explain why or what or anything else, but she was mine. I had an urge to stand up and beat my fists against my chest. I was half-tempted to grab her and drag her back to my house and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight. Hell, until I couldn’t walk straight.

  She turned to look my way and I knew for certain I was going to have the woman. Her hair was a light honey brown with streaks of gold. She had it piled on her head, or it had probably started that way, but it wasn’t all there now. There were strands falling around her heart-shaped face. Her cheekbones were pronounced and flushed. As she walked closer, I got a good look at her eyes that were an amber color.

  Her face was pretty, and her lips were full, but it was her body that was making me hard. Her tits, at least a full C cup, were high and pronounced in the fitted T-shirt she was wearing. Her hips flared, the jeans she was wearing accentuating every luscious curve.

  Oh yes, I was going to have her. She just didn’t know it yet.

  I got to my feet. I wanted to size her up. Truthfully, I wanted her to size me up. She was slowly walking toward me, her gazed fixed on mine. I watched her move, watched her hips sway. I thought about what it would be like to ride her between those luscious thighs with my hands on those perfectly round breasts.

  She was going to be a good lay. Not just a lay. She would be so much more than that. My instincts told me she was a woman I was going to want again and again. I was going to enjoy the taking.

  Chapter 6

  Amara

  Oh, there was a god somewhere and he was shining down on me. The man before me was a wet dream come to life.

  He was the kind of man that knew his way around a woman’s body. I could only imagine the experience a man like him would have. Not that it mattered, but damn, he was hot.

  I took in the rugged exterior. He had the tanned skin of a fisherman. He had the muscles of a man that worked hard for a living. He was staring at me with blue eyes that were so dark and so blue they were almost unnatural. He was tall—ridiculously tall—but he was well proportioned. The dark scruff along his jaw gave him an almost dangerous look.

  He was looking at me like I was on the menu. A little shiver of desire trailed down my spine. He was the kind of man daddies warned their daughters about. He was the kind of boy that would sneak you out at night and take you to parties and then, before he took you home, he pulled off on a dirt road and had wild passionate sex with you in the front seat of his truck.

  I gave myself an inner shake. I had zero personal experience with that kind of thing.

  “Hello,” I said, finding my voice. I extended my hand to shake his. At first, I thought he was going to reject it. When he took it, I felt an electric charge. His hand was rough and callused, a testament to his way of life.

  “I’m Fulton, Fulton Hannes,” he said with a voice that was as rugged as his appearance.

  “I’m Amara Murdock, the proud new owner of this place,” I said with a smile.

  He was still holding my hand and didn’t look like he had any intention of letting go. I tugged once but that was ineffective. He smirked and actually tugged back, bringing me a little closer. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Should we sit down?” I asked, unable to pull my eyes from his.

  “Sure.”

  I looked down at our hands that were still joined. He released me, my palm hot from where his had been pressed against mine. I took a seat at the table he’d been sitting at. He sat down and looked at me with hungry eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide the lust.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” I started, a little unnerved under his gaze.

  “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

  “How long have you been fishing?” I asked, hoping to break the ice. Not ice. Heat. God, there was so much heat coming off the man.

  “Long enough to know how to catch lobster.”

  I smiled. He was a man that didn’t like small talk. Noted. “Good to know. I’d hate for you to show up with crabs.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Nobody wants a case of crabs.”

  I bit back a smile. “Definitely not.”

  “Why me?”

  “What?” I asked, a little caught off guard.

  “Why are you calling me for lobster?”

  “Because I need them and I’ve heard you sell them,” I replied. “Isn’t that how business works?”

  “Most of the time.”

  I needed to make things more relaxed between us. I didn’t like the tension. There was some serious tension, but I had a feeling it was just on my end. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered. He seemed unaffected, except for the heat in his eyes that I did not miss.

  “I’m new at this,” I blurted out. “This is my first attempt to start a business and I want to do it right. I don’t want to be taken advantage of.”

  “I’m not taking advantage of you. I believe in mutual satisfaction. I’m only satisfied if you are.”

  The man was dangerous. I could feel the heat low in my belly, making me squirm a bit. “Then you wouldn’t mind giving
me a break on price? I really only want the tails. Shouldn’t that be half price?” I was teasing, trying to be flirty and girly.

  Clearly, I failed, judging by the way he was looking at me. “I’m not here to dicker about prices. My prices are what they are, which you’ll find is much lower than anyone else. If you want tails, I’m sure someone else will happily sell you tails.”

  “I was kidding,” I said with a frown. “It was just a joke. Your prices are fair.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m going to be opening this weekend. Just a soft open. My first order will be small, but I hope it will increase with time. Is that going to be an issue?”

  He slowly shook his head. “Nope. Not on my end.”

  “Great.”

  He leaned forward, his gaze locked on mine. “I always deliver. If I say I’m going to do something, I will do it. I’m reliable.”

  “That’s good. I’m going to be doing some complimentary appetizers as well, kind of like an opening party for friends and family. You are welcome to come.”

  He smirked. “I’m not a friend or family.”

  “No, but I have invited a couple of other vendors as well. You are going to be one of my vendors, right?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose if you order, I deliver, and you pay, then I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.”

  “Then will you come?”

  “I’m going to be busy. I don’t have a lot of free time, and when I do, schmoozing and eating lobster is about the last thing I want to do.”

  I didn’t know why but I laughed. “You don’t like lobster?”

  “I like lobster fine.”

  “You just don’t want to eat lobster with me?” I teased. It was stupid, and I probably shouldn’t have done it because it was very unprofessional, but I couldn’t resist.

  Instead of denying it, he only gave me a hard look. “When do you want the first order?”

  “Um, Friday or Saturday morning will be okay.”

  “They’ll be here Friday evening.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Should we sign a contract or something?”

  “Do you plan on backing out of your order?”

  “No.”

  “Then, like I said, they will be here Friday.”

  He got to his feet, towering over me. I looked up at him and felt his strength. He was a very dominant presence. I had a feeling he used that to his advantage. I got to my feet. “Thank you for coming by.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stared at me for several seconds. I waited to see what he would do or say. He walked away without a word. I stared at the door, and I half-expected him to come back and say whatever it was that was on his mind. I sensed there was more. When he didn’t come back, I headed back into the kitchen to check the progress of the cleaning.

  Kerri came around the corner, looking none too pleased. “I don’t think the previous owners ever cleaned this place.”

  “It’s pretty bad.”

  “How did it go?”

  “With your lobsterman?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t tell me he was so warm and bubbly,” I said dryly.

  She laughed, taking off her gloves. “I warned you.”

  “I think a porcupine would have been friendlier.”

  “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he grows on you.”

  “Like fungus, I imagine,” I shot back.

  She giggled again. “Some of his exes have likened him to other things but never fungus.”

  “I suppose. He’s not a very friendly person.”

  “He doesn’t need to be friendly,” she reminded me. “He just needs to get you your lobsters.”

  “True. I guess I don’t have to be friends with him.”

  “Not yet.” She grinned.

  “I got the distinct impression he would rather eat dirt than spend any time with me.”

  She shrugged. “With Fulton, one never knows. He might actually like dirt.”

  “I would not be the least bit surprised if he did.”

  “I’m going to finish that last fryer,” she said with dread. “Then I’m going home and taking three showers and a hot bubble bath. I just hope that is enough to rinse away this grime and grease clinging to my skin.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her. “You are a trooper. I had no idea the kitchen was in that bad of shape. It’s a miracle the building didn’t burn to the ground.”

  “No shit,” she muttered. “I’ve worked in a lot of shitty restaurants, but none of them have been this bad.”

  “I’ll grab some gloves and be right over,” I told her. “I’m going to check off the lobster order.”

  “Are you excited?” she asked.

  I took a breath. “I’m excited and terrified. As much as I want everything to go perfect, I know it is unlikely. I only hope I’m ready for whatever is coming.”

  “It’s going to be fine. We’ve got a great staff. The dining room looks great and the kitchen is going to be in great shape by Friday. We’re ready.”

  “And the cook?” I questioned. He was another one of her recommendations. Her vast knowledge of just about every restaurant in town gave her a lot of leads.

  “He’s good,” she insisted. “He said he will be in tomorrow to make those sample dishes for you. Trust me. He’s a great cook. He was underappreciated in his last job. They wanted him making their tired, old menu and he was so much better than that.”

  “I’m trusting you.”

  “Hey, the lobsterman turned out all right,” she said with a laugh as she walked away.

  I rolled my eyes and walked into the small office. The verdict was still out on the lobsterman. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was about him that got under my skin. There was something about him that unsettled me. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I was wary of him. He had that look about him that told me he could be dangerous to my heart.

  I wanted to find out more about him. I wouldn’t. I would leave well enough alone. I didn’t want to mix up the business relationship and potentially ruin a good hookup. I needed his lobster. That was not a euphemism.

  I didn’t need any man. Period.

  Right now, I was all about me and the restaurant. I wanted to make my parents proud. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it without help from my parents—not counting the actual building—but anything beyond that. I wanted to do it on my own.

  In the back of my mind, I thought about those girls talking shit. The ones that snickered behind my back and called me a spoiled little princess. I wasn’t like the other rich girls. They made fun of me for being plump. I was healthy. That was what my mother told me when I came home with tears in my eyes, demanding a boob reduction and liposuction. I pretended I believed her, but it was still difficult. The girls on the other side of the fence hated me because they thought I was uppity.

  It was Kerri who befriended me. Her friends pretended to tolerate me, but I knew they still talked shit about me. Success was the best revenge. I occasionally saw some of the girls from high school. They had not changed a bit. They were all still model thin and gorgeous. And so fake. Most of them had more work done than a Kardashian and denied it, just like a Kardashian.

  I pushed them out of my mind. This was not solely about revenge. It was me proving something to myself. I needed to put those old insecurities I had been carrying around for most of my life to bed. I wanted to be able to walk into my restaurant every day and feel like I was a real success.

  Chapter 7

  Fulton

  I dumped the catch into a cooler filled with ice, carefully inspecting every lobster myself. It had to be perfect. It wasn’t just because I wanted to impress the woman but because I wanted to make sure I was providing a good service. She was a client. A paying client. Those were not always easy to come by.

  “Looks good,” Stanley declared after we finished the haul.

  “It does,” I agreed.

  “I can deliver this,” he offered.


  “I’ll take it,” I said a little too quickly.

  He looked at me with confusion. “What? Why?”

  Normally, he did the deliveries while I did paperwork. It was our system. We pretended it was because he was the help and I was the boss. In reality, it was because he was better suited to deal with people than I was. The customers liked him better than me. Hell, most days, I liked him better than me. He was a big loveable bear that always had an easy smile.

  “I want to make sure the owner knows she can come to me if there are any problems. I need to keep the lines of communication open.”

  He looked at me like I was speaking another language. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve got this. Take the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it.”

  He still looked confused. “Well, I know that, but I deserve a lot of shit that I don’t get.”

  “What do you deserve?”

  “I don’t know. A million dollars. A new house.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I could use a new truck and maybe a handful of lottery tickets,” he went on.

  “Help me load these ice chests into my truck.” If I didn’t stop him, he would carry on like he was sitting on Santa’s lap.

  “Something isn’t right,” he said.

  “What now?”

  “Why do you really want to do this delivery? Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course, I trust you,” I assured him. “It’s just one delivery.”

  “Does she know me?” he asked with concern.

  He wasn’t going to let it go. “Look, the owner of this restaurant is different. She doesn’t know you. This is just something I want to handle.”

  “Different how?”

  “Different like I want to make sure she is happy with the product we deliver.”

  We hoisted the first chest into the back of my truck. “Why wouldn’t she be? They’re all fine. They are all legal size. It isn’t like we’re going to cheat her.”

  He wasn’t getting it. If I didn’t spell it out for him, he wasn’t going to understand. “This is a new client. This matters. She is going to order a lot more from us if we provide good service. I want to make sure she knows me and feels like she can talk to me.”