Riptide Affair, page 7
“You are such an asshole!”
Barely clinging to my shredded dignity, I leave him behind and head to the kitchen. I was wrong. I can't do this. Not today. Not after everything that happened. My already fragile sense of self is crumbling thanks to Jared's words, and although my fight instinct took over back there, now all I want to do is fly. Far, far, away.
Scrambling around the corner, trying to see through tear-filled eyes, I attempt a bee-line straight to safety, but crash straight into a solid chest instead. A yelp rings out and I lose my balance, careen to the side, and I brace for impact.
Just what I need. Another fuck up.
“Whoa there!”
Hands latch onto my waist, steadying me, ensuring I don't fall on my face, and I cling to solid forearms for balance as a familiar scent invades my nostrils and unrestrained laughter fills the air.
“That...was truly entertaining.”
I look up and blink. Then blink again. Surely my eyes are playing tricks on me, because these irises put ocean waves to shame. This smile frames a charm that can neither be faked nor forced.
Before me stands Jared The Elevator Man.
The real Jared.
I want to hug him. Then slap him. And maybe kiss him. All before wringing his neck with my bare hands. But first...I command my shock-heavy feet to turn me around.
Both Jared's hands land on my shoulders and he squeezes gently, sending electric bolts of something shooting through me, as I stare up at a man who has murder in his eyes. A man I just shoved. A man I just called an asshole.
Whoops.
“In case it wasn't already glaringly obvious,” Jared says, “Rhett's the evil twin.”
I look to Jared, then to the actual stranger, and back to Jared again.
Twins...
Twins!
“And you must be Jared's latest conquest,” the twin sneers, eyes alight with understanding.
I flinch at the word conquest, but really, that's the least of my concerns. Because after assaulting the man with hot tea, stalking him outside the bathroom, and then referring to a very intimate act we did not share...I'm toast. If he complains and April gets wind of it, my employment here will come to an abrupt end and no one, not even Kate, will be able to save me.
Tongue-tied and flustered, ready to crawl into a hole and never show my face again, I open my mouth.
“Um...sorry?”
My voice hitches up at the end, and Not Jared quirks one well-groomed eyebrow. “Was that a question or an apology?”
“At ease, dickwad,” Jared growls over my shoulder. He squeezes my shoulders again, moving his mouth to my ear. “Ignore him. Celibacy has made him a cranky bastard.” He drags in a breath and...is he smelling me?
Nope.
No, no, no.
Can't do this right now.
Brain not found.
System overload.
“I have work. Busy. Gotta go!” I blurt out a string of nonsense and then immediately sprint away to take refuge at the server's station. On my way, I grab Laura's arm and drag her along with me.
“Hey, what's wrong?” she asks, struggling to match my half-ass sprint.
What's wrong?
Oh, where do I even begin?
CHAPTER SIX
Merrin
“Are you gonna hurl? Because these shoes are new so if you could aim, like, that way, I'd appreciate it.”
Ducked down behind the drink station with Laura so we can't be seen, I point toward my section. “He's here!” I whisper-shout, drowning in panic.
“Who's here?” she whisper-shouts right back.
“Jared!”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes. For someone who claims to be one of my best friends, she doesn't pay attention for shit.
“Elevator guy.”
“No shit?” Laura's eyes widen and she moves to peer around the frosted glass divider, searching each and every face.
“Table nine. Brown hair. Black t-shirt.”
I know the instant she spots him, because she reaches back and bangs on the order window separating us from the kitchen. “Girls! Get in here!”
The window slides open on its tracks and two heads poke through.
“What do you—”
“Elevator man is here!” Laura exclaims, cutting Kate off mid-sentence. “And he is smokin'.”
Kate and Harper fight to squeeze both their upper bodies through the window, slamming shoulders together, squirming within the confines of the tiny rectangle in order to get the best vantage point.
My friends are fucking insane.
“Where?” Kate asks. “Which one?”
“Black t-shirt,” Laura answers for me. “Table nine.”
I hide my face in my hands, mortified. I was hoping Laura would help me, not make this more of a spectacle than it already is. I should know better by now. I really should.
Harper nods in approval. “Solid A, dude.”
I agree. But I can't bring myself to match their insane level of enthusiasm in my current state. I do, however, lower myself closer to the ground and crawl army-style until I can peek around the corner. Jared and the blond are sharing a laugh. Probably at my expense.
“Wait...what the hell?”
If I wasn't wound so tight, I'd enjoy the comical look of disbelief the girls all share as the source of my mix-up takes a seat.
“Oh my God,” Laura groans, biting her knuckle. “Twins! You're living my dream, woman!”
I don't even bother responding to that.
Harper points back and forth between the twins. “So, which one did you scald?”
“Not Jared.”
“Oh good,” she says, sagging in relief.
I spin around to glare at her. “Why is that a good thing?”
She doesn't answer, but Laura does, winding her arm through mine and pulling me to my feet. “Because, sweetie, you're gonna want that D later, and if his wang is all, yanno, Freddie Kruegered, it's not gonna be pretty.”
Kate and Harper both shudder. “Eww,” they whisper in tandem.
I bury my hands in my hair and sink back to the floor. “I don't even know why I talk to you people. You're so not helpful.”
“Sure we are.” Laura kisses my temple, then swings a dish rag over her shoulder. “Take a break. I've got your tables.”
“Wait, no!” Before I can stop her, she's gone, sashaying her way across the floor and closing in on Jared. The three of us watch as she approaches the table with all the confidence of Miss Universe.
I love her, I do, but not nearly as much as I want to strangle her.
I can't watch.
Leaving the girls behind, I rush to the bathroom. Normally, I'm not one for theatrics or tantrums, but right now, I'd love nothing more than to rip the mirror above the sink off the wall and hurl it to the ground, watching it shatter into a million reflective pieces.
But...I'm an adult, with a firm hold on my emotions. Or so I've led myself to believe. Really, I'm a thirty-one-year old shipwreck of a human who is ruled by her emotions so much that I let my previously-dormant libido lead me down the sultry, sinful path to, well, this. Sulking in the ladies' room while the source of my mortification sits right outside gloating with a belly full of mozzarella sticks.
My parents would be so proud.
I wish they were here, even though my father would be laughing his ass off at my misfortune, but they're not. They're gone, resting peacefully in the afterlife instead of watching their only daughter flounder through adulthood here in little ol' Blackjack.
I give myself a ten-second long pep talk, because as I said before—I'm a grown ass adult—and then I smooth out my white polo, give my hair a once-over, and march right back out to the dining hall, convinced that I've got this. Shaky smile in place, hair tightly coiled atop my head, I return to my section to find most of my tables have been cleared and Jared is alone in the corner booth. Well, not totally alone. The other patrons, as well as his lunch dates, may have fled the premises—presumably with to-go boxes in hand since it's only been a few minutes—but he has three nosy admirers flocking around his table.
Buncha traitors.
Not that I can blame them for being drawn to his easy-going charismatic personality. I mean, I was. Enough to let him...Jesus H Christ. I can't even say it.
Even now, I can't deny that I'm feeling the faint flutters of attraction in my belly as my eyes roam over the two long legs spread out under the table. He's tall. Taller than I remember. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles and the biceps straining against his t-shirt sleeves remind me of how physically capable he is, and my salivary glands start working double time.
“What are you doing?”
I jump at Jeb's ninja-esque approach, slapping a hand to my chest.
“Me?” I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Helping.” He pulls me into a secluded corner of the back dining hall and starts messing with my hair. More than a little weirded out, I smack his hand away.
“Stop that! What—”
“Just...chill,” he grinds out. “I'm not tryna get fresh.”
I roll my eyes and stop resisting and he pulls the hair tie out of my messy bun so my mass of ebony hair comes tumbling down over my shoulders.
“Unbutton those.” He points to the three buttons of my polo shirt. I roll my eyes but do as he says. Then he pinches my cheeks.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You're pale.” He grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around just in time for the two of us to watch the girls let out a riotous peal of laughter at something Jared says. “Listen, girlie. You're not gonna run. You're too old for that nonsense.”
I glare, but he ignores it.
“You're gonna take a fifteen minute break, grab a plate of food, and sit down. Then you're gonna smile, flirt, and laugh at all his dumb jokes. Got it?”
“I don't—I mean...Jeb! This is—”
“Complicated?” he laughs. “So I heard. But I'm tellin' you right now, if you don't jump on that, someone else will.”
I scoff. “And what makes you think I want to jump on that?”
He shakes his head, causing his heavy jowls to flop back and forth. “I may be old, but I ain't blind.”
Out here in the dim lighting of the dining hall, his pockmarks and scars aren't so noticeable and he almost looks soft. Grandfatherly. But the patronizing smile he's wearing aggravates the piss outta me.
“Fine. But if I embarrass myself again, I'm holding you personally responsible.”
“That's alright with me,” he smirks before roughly shoving me toward the buffet room.
I don't even pay attention to what I load my plate with, and by the time I make it to Jared's table I'm shaking. It's an honest to God miracle I don't dump my food in his lap. Harper corrals the girls, herding them toward the back, turning at the last second to give me a blinding smile. “Enjoy your break.”
I'm not sure that's possible...but I'm here. Time to woman up.
Slowly, I lift my eyes to Jared's and he leans back in the chair, arms crossed. “Well, hello, stranger.”
“Hi.” I smile, but it's too tight, giving away how truly inept I am at all this.
He doesn't say another word, and I have a mini-flashback to accidentally sitting down at the popular kids' table in high school and being torn down with ruthless words and angry snarls. Insecurity whispers in my ear, telling me to duck away, to scurry off to the safety of my people, but I ignore it. I'm a grown woman with a steady job, a house I own, and a list of attributes I'm confident could make most men happy. I'm not a catch, per se, but he could do worse.
“So, this is awkward.” I laugh to cover just how awkward it feels. “I, uh, I guess I should apologize for running out on you like that. Or, you know, for doing...what I did.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise. “What you did?”
“Yeah. That was super inappropriate and—”
“Hot,” he interjects.
I ignore him.
“And I think maybe my panic led me to make a very rash and irresponsible decision.” I stumble over every word, every syllable. “I'm not usually so forward and—”
“Hot,” he repeats, smirking.
“Um...yeah. Uh...” I literally have no idea where to go from here. “So. Yeah.”
“Yeah?” He purses his lips, just to keep from laughing at me. “Well, there's really no need to apologize, Merrin. Despite my rather futile objections—which were more for your benefit than mine—I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”
“Oh.” I shove a chicken strip into my mouth to keep from saying something stupid. The tingling awareness that was present during our first encounter has returned with a vengeance, and it's scrambling my senses as his eyes flit between my eyes and mouth.
Under his intense blue gaze, it's impossible to enjoy the rich taste and soft texture of my food. Also, I kind of feel like a cow chewing cud as my farmer watches from the other side of the fence. Like I'm an animal.
“You're freaking me out,” I mumble around a mouthful of food.
“Why?” He leans forward and I make a conscious effort not to choke. I can smell him—rich, woodsy cedar and notes of mint—and my heart rate increases.
I swallow. “I'm not used to people staring at me.”
He scoots his seat closer so he can whisper. “Are you sure? Because you seem to be garnering a lot of male attention today.”
I roll my eyes. “I don't think so.”
Guy don't look at me like that. They're too busy tracking Laura and Kate, and if they're into the goth thing, Harper. When their eyes do venture my way, it's because I'm different. Foreign. Unwelcome.
Leaning in even closer, until he's practically laying across the table and I can see the dark flecks of gray in his eyes, he speaks again. “I've been here for fifteen minutes. Every time I can catch a peek at you from around the partition, I do, and guess what? So do five other guys.”
He nods to the side and I follow where he's directing me, only to find a man in Laura's section peeking up at me from his phone. I know the guy, he's a regular. Quiet but polite.
His attention is flattering, sure, but I honestly don't care that another man is noticing me. I care that Jared is noticing me. Jared, who is now smiling wide, showcasing all his straight white teeth.
“Something amusing?” I ask.
Slowly, he nods. “A few things, actually.”
Some of the pressure in my chest alleviates when he turns to stare out the window, and I bite a french fry in half. “Care to share?”
“Well,” he sighs, “let's see. First off, there's the fact that my brother was the one who suggested this place and he almost got his dick burned off by the last woman I kissed. I mean, fate, right?”
A rather unladylike snort-laugh leaves me, and I slap a hand over my mouth.
“Then I was gifted with watching you walk all the way across the building and straight to me while wearing that. ” He lifts a hand, gesturing to my shorty shorts and white polo. “I didn't know it before, but it seems I have a weakness for women in white. And now, sitting down with the girl who pulled a Cinderella on me, I have to say, this is the highlight of my week.”
“Yesterday wasn't the highlight of your week?”
Heat floods my cheeks and I squirm where I sit. I hate being the kind of woman who needs validation from a man, but I'm fairly certain that's what I just asked for.
Jared shifts too, his eyes dimming the slightest bit. “No, it wasn't. Because as amazing as that was, it didn't feel real. This feels real,” he says, pointing between us. “Like you're an actual person, not a sexy figment of my imagination.”
There's a smile curving his lips, but something else just beyond that. Just a hint. So small I can barely detect it. But I do. Because I recognize it instantly.
Vulnerability.
I can't imagine why someone so sure and confident would ever feel vulnerable, but there it is, in the set of his shoulders, the pinch of his brow.
“I'm flattered,” I mumble.” Look, I have to go back to work in a few minutes, but—”
“Are you busy later?” He shoves the question out, like it's been choking him this whole time.
I'm not. I'm never busy unless I'm working. But the thought of being alone with Jared again—of spending time with someone I clearly can't trust myself with—has my mouth turning into the Sahara.
Without thinking, I reach across the table and take a hearty gulp of Jared's drink. He watches, eyes on the lips wrapped around his straw, and I almost choke to death when I realize that look is doing things to me.
Hot, tingly things.
I try to think of an excuse to back out—I have to do laundry, I have community service, I'm waiting on the TV repair man—just as hands clamp down on my shoulders and I know I'm about to be sabotaged.
“She's definitely not busy later.” Kate gives him a ten-megawatt smile. “And her shift ends in exactly two hours and forty-five minutes.”
Jared looks between the two of us. “Is that right?”
It's not. I'm scheduled to close tonight and she knows it.
“Yup.” She lays a wet kiss to my cheek before scurrying off to the kitchen. I turn to watch her go, so I see the other three sets of eyes watching me.
“I like your keepers,” he chuckles. “They're nice.”
“Right,” I drawl, shooting daggers their way. “Nice.”
He clears his throat, sounding borderline nervous, although what he has to be nervous about I'll never know. “So. Tonight. You, me, and a couple of ice cream cones. How's that sound? Not to sound forward, but I'm fairly certain there's some unwritten rule about treating a woman to a date once you've become as intimately acquainted as we have.”
Dammit.
I glaze over his erotic insinuation and settle on two words. Ice cream.
I can't say no to ice cream. It's my greatest weakness. My only addiction. If he throws in wine and Doritos I may have to crawl across the table and beg him to take me right here.
“Actually...ice cream sounds great.”
There. I did it. I took a chance. I woman'd up.
I took a leap.
