by Jacie Lennon
She’s acting hard to get, but two can play at this game. If she wants hard, she’s going to get hard. Every single pun intended.
“Shit,” I mutter as I glance in my passenger seat, seeing the clothes I meant to drop at the station.
I sigh and head back on autopilot, my thoughts focused on long, dark hair and a round ass, not on the road in front of me. Pulling into the lot, I see I have a missed call from Dad and decide to call him back once I’m done dropping my bag off. When I step in the front door, Ezra is at the table and catches my attention from across the room.
“Hey, was everything all right?” he asks, walking over to me with concern in his eyes.
“Yeah, they were fine. Got the new tire on and sent them on their way.”
He nods in relief. “Good. Thanks. I’ve got something to run by you,” he says, walking back toward the table he was sitting at when I walked in.
I pull the chair out next to him and swing it around, sitting backward and resting my arms along the top. “What’s up?”
“You know how you were telling me your dad wants to put something else in the bistro?”
I nod, a confused look on my face. I can’t imagine where he is going with this.
“I have the perfect idea—a coffee shop.”
I pause for a moment, considering his idea. I think about the space in the bistro and start to visualize tables shifting and a coffee bar going in. The area is perfect for it, and I’m not sure why I haven’t considered it before.
“Damn, that’s a great idea,” I tell him, holding my fist up for him to bump.
“I thought so. So, I told Hanna and she might have an idea for you as well.”
“What’s her idea?” I reach over to grab a chip from the bag sitting in front of Ezra.
“Jules opened—”
I throw my hand up in the air, cutting him off. “Jules? This situation involves Jules? I’m not sure that will work.” A feeling of dread works its way through me. What was a great idea moments before now seems like a horrible one if they want the one woman who can’t stand me involved. I can’t mix business and pleasure.
“We thought maybe she could give some insight into what works and what doesn’t while you are building. You know, if that’s what you decide to put in,” he says with a shrug.
“Have you and Hanna discussed this with Jules?” I narrow my eyes. The way my heart is thumping, I’m not sure what I hope he says.
“Not really,” he says.
“Not really … or no?”
“Okay, no, we haven’t. But Hanna is planning on telling her soon.”
“I think a coffee shop is a great idea, but I don’t think working together with Jules is even a good idea.”
I have mixed emotions when it comes to her. She stirs something inside of me, a feeling I can’t quite place. I just tell myself it’s a thrill that will pass. I can’t entertain thoughts of her, especially when she already thinks I’m a bad guy. But damn.
“Well, she wouldn’t be working with you, just offering advice. She would be working for your dad.”
“My dad?”
“Yes, at the coffee shop.”
“You want Jules to work at the coffee shop?” I sound like a parrot, but I’m so confused as to whether he’s suggesting she give advice for the shop, run it, or work in it. All three sound a bit crazy to me at the moment.
“Hanna and I think she would be a great manager for the coffee shop. She has opened one before. Her parents are running it right now. Hanna thinks it might help her to get away from Virginia for a while.”
“I think that’s a decision for Jules to make. She might not want you planning out her life for her.” And I don’t know if I can handle her living here. “But I’ll run the idea by Dad and let you know what he says.” I steal another chip before standing up and placing the chair back against the table.
My mind spinning, I head for the exit since I need to get to the bistro. As soon as I sit in my truck, my phone starts ringing again. Dad’s name flashes across the screen, and I remember that I forgot about calling him back.
“Hey, Dad. Everything okay? Is Grams okay?” I’m suddenly worried that he’s going to tell me bad news.
“Grams is her usual spitfire self. No, this is something else,” he says, pausing. I can hear him breathing on the other end, and I’m about to tell him to just spit it out when he talks again, “Your mom got in touch with me.”
My heart drops. Dad has never really talked about her much. I don’t know if she’s contacted him since he left her to come back or even if she was still alive, never caring to ask. To hear this news is shocking and sends me into a sort of strange limbo feeling.
“You still there?” Dad asks, sounding concerned.
I clear my throat that feels as dry as sandpaper, coughing a bit.
“Yeah, I’m here. Just surprised.” Surprised doesn’t truly convey my feelings on the matter.
“She wants to get back in touch with you,” Dad says, getting right to the point.
Not happening.
“No,” I state firmly. “She walked out on me, and now, she doesn’t get to just waltz back in my life. I wasn’t important to her then, and I’m not going to be important to her now.”
A mother who walks out on her child isn’t a mom, and she doesn’t deserve a place in my life. That spot is filled by Grams, and I want to keep it that way.
“Why now?” I ask and then instantly regret it. I don’t need to know. It will more than likely upset me.
“She says she’s sober now and in a good place. She seems sorry and spoke about trying to rekindle a relationship with you. This was a week ago, and I’ve debated on telling you since I know how you feel about her, but you are a grown man and can decide for yourself.”
I try not to talk about my mom much, but anytime Dad has brought her up, I immediately shut him down, letting him know that I hate her and don’t want to talk about anything to do with her.
“She seems sorry?” I ask incredulously. “Sorry that she walked out on her son? Just sorry?” I take a deep breath, feeling myself start to wheeze with the force of emotions trying to burst out of my chest.
“I know, Mason. I know. I just want you to be aware.”
“Okay, Dad. Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say.
Thanks for ruining my day by talking about my alcoholic, deadbeat mother, who has now decided she has a heart.
I can’t talk about this anymore right now.
“I have an idea for the bistro,” I say, switching subjects in an attempt to calm down. I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me.
“Oh, yeah? What is it?” Dad’s voice perks up.
“A coffee shop,” I say.
Dad is silent a few moments before a laugh booms across the line. “Well, damn. You would think I would’ve thought of that with the amount of caffeine I inhale in a day. It’s perfect. Especially for the morning crowd.”
“Yeah, it was Ezra’s suggestion. Jules owns one in Virginia and he thought it would be good for the bistro.”
“I’ll have to thank him next time I see him,” Dad says. “When can we start?” I don’t miss the eager tone in his voice.
“Let me crunch some numbers over the weekend, and I’ll get back to you,” I say, finally cranking the truck I’m sitting in.
“Sounds good. Love you, Mason,” Dad says.
“Love you,” I say back before hanging up.
My mind is focused completely on the bomb Dad just dropped on me. The anger incinerates me from the inside out as I wonder why she would even want to see me after all these years.
12
Jules
Once Myra is at the house to occupy Livie and Luke, Hanna and I get busy, preparing for the holiday party. I’m thumbing through Hanna’s dresses when her voice floats into the closet from the bathroom.
“How’s the shop doing back home?” She has a weird, high-pitched sound to her voice that instantly puts me on edge.
“It s
eems to be doing fine. I think Mom and Dad are enjoying having something to do and are watching over it like a hawk.”
“Are you going to make them the managers over the shop?” Hanna asks.
“No, probably not. I still like being involved in the day-to-day. I don’t mind if they want to help out.” I pull a shimmery gold dress from the hanger and walk over to the mirror on the closet door, holding the garment against my body.
“Oh, that will look gorgeous on you,” Hanna says, stopping her makeup application. “Pair it with those strappy black heels you brought, and it’s perfect.”
She returns her gaze to the mirror while I contemplate. She’s right; it will look great together.
“Why do you ask?”
“Hmm?” she says, looking at me.
“Why did you ask about me putting my parents in as managers?”
“Oh, right. I was just thinking about opportunities for you.”
“What kind of opportunities?” I narrow my eyes. Turning from the mirror to face her head-on.
“Like, what if you expanded the shop?”
“Spit it out, Hanna.”
“What if I told you there was an opportunity to open another coffee shop here?”
“You want me to franchise The Funky Brewster?” I raise my eyebrows. “It’s not exactly a Starbucks.”
“Don’t say no before thinking about it. I would love to have you here with me—that’s been my endgame after all—and I think your parents would love to take care of things in Virginia.”
“What’s the opportunity?”
“Ezra says Nickoli’s Bistro might be in the market for a coffee shop. You could relocate here and get it running if they decide to go ahead with it, and then if you desperately miss Virginia, you could always hire a manager and head home.”
“Nickoli’s Bistro? Has he talked to Nick about it?”
“Not sure, he just mentioned it to me,” Hanna says with a shrug.
“I’ll think about it.” I nod and nudge Hanna to the side with my hip so that I have room at the counter to put my makeup on. I sweep my long hair into an elegant ponytail, leaving a few hairs to frame my face, and put a pair of dangly black earrings in to match my shoes. Stepping into the gold dress I picked out, I spin back and forth in front of the mirror to check out every angle.
Damn, I look good.
Hanna pulls a simple black shift dress from the hanger. She left her blonde hair curled down her back, the pink tips stark against the dark color of her outfit. She straps on a pair of gold wedges and jewelry to match. We are the opposite of each other—in looks, dress, and personality. She’s the free spirit; I’m the grounded one. She’s an act first, think later type of girl, and I’m one to consider every possibility before acting on anything. We complement one another, and I don’t know what I would do without her.
“God, we look hot,” Hanna says, spinning in the mirror as we critically study ourselves.
I slip my lipstick and gloss in the clutch I borrowed from Hanna, and on second thought, I add a condom I purchased when we stopped at the gas station earlier. I’m on the pill, but since I’m on a mission tonight, I shouldn’t expect him to just have one on him. Granted, I have to convince Mason to join my mission, but I’ve seen how he looks at me. I think I can make him see reason. It’s time to screw Mason Porter out of my system, so I can quit thinking about him and the way he makes my body burn. Then, we can go back to the mutual dislike we have for each other.
Ezra whistles as soon as we walk in the living room, his gaze going straight to his wife. I’m so thrilled that Hanna found her happily ever after. I just wish that I had mine too. Joining the dating pool again seems like a nightmare, and after my experience, I’m not looking forward to it.
“Mommy, you look pretty,” Livie says as she fingers the dress Hanna is wearing.
I watch as Hanna crouches down to wrap her arms around Livie. I suddenly have an intense pang when I think about starting a family and how far off that idea is for me now. I had it all planned out—marriage, a baby within two years, and to grow old with Kyle. Thank goodness I got out before a baby was involved. I snicker in self-preservation, thinking about it now. No more tears for me. It’s time to move on.
We say our good-byes, and before I know it, we pull up at the restaurant and bar reserved for the party. As soon as the interior light flickers on, I pull out my phone, turning the camera to face me so I can apply my lip gloss. Smacking my lips together, I give myself a once-over in the camera and put it back in my clutch that rolls off my lap and onto the floor as I’m getting out of the truck. I hurriedly stuff everything back in and stand up, twirling to face Hanna while trying to still my shaky hands.
“Ready?” I say to Hanna, linking my arm with hers as she smiles at me.
“Let’s get some tequila,” she says back with a laugh.
“I’m buying tonight,” I tell her and watch as she frowns.
“It’s an open bar.”
“Exactly.” I smile as we walk inside.
My pulse races, and my eyes scan the room, looking for Mason in the crowd. My idea is crazy. There’s no way to screw someone out of your system.
Is there?
When my eyes land on him, I see he’s looking at me too. My palms start to sweat, and I wobble a little in my heels. A slow grin spreads across his chiseled face, his blue eyes glittering, even from across the room. Part of me wants to hate him, and the other part of me wants him inside me. I know which part of me is out to play tonight. I pull my arm from Hanna’s, eliciting a sharp breath from her at my sudden movement.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper to her.
Moving across the room, I have the odd sensation that I’m gliding. An invisible string is tugging me in a certain direction, and I’m powerless to stop my legs as they maneuver toward him. My breath catches in my throat as I stumble a little and glance back up, seeing those blue eyes still pinned on me. I jerk to the side and walk away from him, berating myself for a stupid idea. Stopping at the bar, I order a drink and tap my fingers on the tabletop while waiting. Maybe he didn’t know I was walking toward him. Maybe he won’t care that I’m here at all.
“Tequila again?” The deep voice coming from my right cuts through my thoughts, and I freeze.
So much for him ignoring me.
Turning my body to face him, I’m entranced by his raw masculinity up close. The way he makes me feel small even though I’m a tall girl. He’s sporting a smirk, and I draw my eyes away, letting them roam over his body. His powder-blue button-up complements his eyes and skin tone, tucked into a pair of fitted slim-cut khakis and finished off with brown dress shoes. The whole sexy look sends butterflies flitting around inside my stomach. I slowly drag my eyes away from his body to see that his gaze is on mine.
“Crown and Coke this time,” I say in a breathy voice. A voice I’m pretty sure hasn’t ever come from my mouth before.
The things this guy makes me feel. Lust and loathing in one fell swoop.
“Care for some company?” he says, narrowing his eyes, cocky grin still in place.
I know I’m doing a complete one-eighty from how we’ve interacted before, and he has to be suspicious. Lucky for him, this will hopefully turn out in his favor—and mine.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I say, drawing my shoulders back and standing tall. I pick up my drink and take a healthy gulp before looking him in the eyes. This isn’t like me at all. I don’t do spontaneous, but maybe that’s my problem. I’ve always gone for comfortable. “I’d like to discuss a mutual arrangement. One I believe that you will find helps us both.”
“I’m listening.” The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile, and he rocks back a little on his feet while leaning his upper body into my space.
“I think that you are attracted to me, and I’m attracted to you. We don’t like each other, but the body wants what it wants. So, I say we try to, um … fuck and put it behind us. I’ll head back to Virginia, and you won’t have to see m
e again.”
If my proposal surprises him, he doesn’t show it. He merely stares at me for a few moments, both of us silent. I nervously wipe my hands against my dress, and I want to press my hand across my chest to still my racing heart. The silence stretches on for so long that I want to tell him to just forget it and crawl away in shame.
“Sorry, I’m waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and tell me I’m being punk’d,” he says, cocking his head to the side, the grin he had pasted on slowly slipping off his face.
“It’s just me. To my knowledge, Mr. Kutcher isn’t here tonight.” I try to stand even taller and give an air of confidence even though I’m not feeling it. I don’t know why I expected him to just fall at my feet at the mention of sex. Maybe I’m wrong about his lingering glances.
“Let me get this straight. You think that we should just ‘fuck and put it behind us’?”
I watch as he grabs the shot in front of him, throws it back, and then slams the glass back on the bar top. I swallow and nod, my throat feeling too thick for words.
“That’s not my style. I like my hook-ups to be free of mutual hate.” He gives me a look that I can’t decipher. It’s almost a cross between interest and disgust.
“Okay.” I give a curt nod and back up a step. I can feel my cheeks burning, and I just want to get the hell out of here without looking back. “Just thought I would ask.” I make another step backward, about to turn and run when I feel a hot hand wrap around my arm, holding me in place.
“You didn’t ask,” he says.
I glance back at his face, the fierce look in his eyes holding me in place. “What?”
“You didn’t ask me. You just told me what you thought should happen.”
“Oh,” I say, sucking my bottom lip in to bite down as I contemplate the truth of his words.
He’s right. I didn’t ask. I just assumed he’d jump at the chance, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve been nice to him at all. I look up to see his eyes pinned to my lip where I’m chewing on it. His intense gaze trying to burn a hole through me.