I hate surprises, especially this kind. “You know I do. But I have to close. I won’t be getting out of here for another couple hours.” Three if I’m lucky.
“That’s okay. I can wait. I’ll just have a drink at the bar all by my lonesome, and then I’ll meet you at your place. Now, if I had my own key, I’d have been your surprise when you got home,” she murmurs, peering up at me as she runs her hands up and down my back.
It’s obvious Liane is in the mood for a good shag tonight. Any other time, I’d be turned on thinking about having sex with my girlfriend after a drought of three weeks. Too bad my whole body is wound tighter than a guy waiting for the guillotine to drop.
“You must be forgetting that I don’t live by myself. The flat is more Blake’s than it is mine.”
Thank God, because even if I had a flat of my own, I certainly wouldn’t be keen to give her her own key. Hell, we’ve only been dating five months. I’m good with the way things are between us right now. And although I wouldn’t mind if she lived closer and we saw each other more than a couple weekends a month, our current arrangement has its perks. With work and classes starting next week, I won’t have time for much else.
Smiling teasingly, she moves her hands to my chest. “Are you going to fix me that drink, handsome?”
I glance up to see Emily making her way toward the bar. My heart starts beating faster not from panic but as a form of self-preservation. My mind can’t think fast enough.
“Why don’t I get you a table someplace quieter. You’ll have more room—for your stuff.” I look pointedly at the small black purse hanging from her shoulder.
“Don’t be silly. I’d rather watch you in action.”
I warily cast another glance Emily’s way, which turns out to be a big mistake.
Liane pulls back, her expression puzzled. “What’s wrong? Who are you looking at?” She turns her head to see for herself.
Oh fuck.
Her hands drop to her side and her whole body stiffens. I refuse to even look at Emily. This is her fault. Why the hell did she have to take the job? Why’d she have to be working tonight? If only Liane had called me ahead of time.
Do you see why I fucking hate surprises?
Liane’s head whips back around, her eyes wide with shock. “That’s the girl from the mall.”
Resigned, I simply nod.
Liane turns to look at her again. Emily stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide and alert, no doubt sensing that she’s the center of a brewing storm.
“She works he-here?” Liane asks, her voice on a rising note of disbelief before cracking.
Shit fuck shit fuck.
I lean down and whisper urgently in her ear, “Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?”
Instead of answering, Liane’s gaze narrows accusingly. “What is she doing here? Did you have anything to do with it?”
“God no.” I assume the task of moving our conversation to someplace quieter, taking her hand and leading her out of the main room and into the lit hallway. The music isn’t quite as loud here and for the moment, it’s empty.
Palming her shoulders, I look down into her upturned face. “Lee, I promise, I had nothing to do with her getting a job here. Just the opposite. I told John not to hire her.”
This appears to surprise her more than Emily’s presence. “And he hired her anyway? Didn’t you tell him that she’s been stalking you?”
Again with the stalking? I know it’s mostly my fault but as fucked up as this situation is, to say Emily’s stalking me is a stretch. I need to steer the conversation away from restraining order territory.
“She had no idea I worked here when she applied for the job,” I assure my agitated girlfriend.
Liane lets out a snort of disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that what she said?”
In turn, I drop my hands to my sides. Quagmire doesn’t adequately describe what I’ve got myself into.
“Graham, you got a sec?”
I look up to see Joe standing at the hall entrance, a frown pulling his eyebrows together.
I’d rather not leave Liane alone but I’m at work, which entails me doing the job I’m being paid to do. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“I cut a customer off and he isn’t taking it well. He wants to talk to the ‘manager’,” Joe says, using air quotes.
Not another one. That’s the second one for the night. “Look,” I say, addressing Liane, “I’ve got to take care of this. Why don’t you take a seat at the bar? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The silent look she gives me flatly says, You bet we’re going to finish this conversation.
I exhale heavily. There isn’t an ounce of doubt in my mind that we will.
Chapter 14
His girlfriend is here.
My heart is still recovering from our visual encounter.
She remembers me, that much was obvious. The look on her face when she saw me makes me wonder what he’s told her about me. Clearly, he didn’t tell her that we work together, so the shock is understandable. But there had been a horrified distaste in her reaction which had suggested an emotion beyond jealousy. Had he told her about our sordid past? Is that why she looked at me like I was something she’d scraped off the bottom of those strappy, navy high heels of hers?
Personally, I would think it’s something he’d be reluctant to share with her—with anyone frankly. But then, I don’t know what Graham would or wouldn’t do. He’s an enigma except for how much he dislikes me. I’m still surprised that I actually got an apology out of him, regardless of how it came about.
Honestly, half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing here. What I want. Graham’s forgiveness seems a longer shot than the Buffalo Bills winning the Super Bowl. I’m not out to earn his trust per se. It would be pointless anyway and to what end? As for an apology, in the end isn’t it lip-service if he isn’t convinced that I’m sorry? That I’m not the person he thinks I am? As things stand, he refuses to give me a chance… and I’m not sure I want him to. His anger runs so much deeper than I could ever have imagined, and he’s changed from the guy I once thought I loved. The guy I thought I knew.
Earth to Emily. You still have feelings for him. Admit it.
No, I don’t. I’m operating under the weight of my guilt.
Really? Then why were you so shaken with your run-in with his girlfriend? What’s that all about?
I abruptly quiet the voice in my head as I return the tray to the stack at the bar waiting to be wiped down. I act quickly before returning to my section, aware that Graham’s girlfriend is sitting at the other end watching my every move. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me and I’ve taken pains not to glance in her direction.
After tightening my ponytail, I fish my smartphone from my apron pouch to check the time. Two hours to closing. Music pumps throughout the room, the dance floor is packed while the crowd in the bar has thinned noticeably in the last half hour due to the firework display at the park nearby.
I finish wiping down the table my last customers recently vacated.
“Em. Emily.”
With a little start, I turn in the direction of the voice calling my name and spot Kelsey on the edge of the dance floor closest to the entrance. Next to her is none other than Alex Benton.
Just friends, huh? Yeah, right. Not from where I’m standing.
Smiling, I give her a wave and hurry to her side. “Hey, Kelse.”
“Hey, Em. How’s it going. You said you’d be working tonight so I thought I’d drop by before we headed home,” she says, glancing up at Alex. Then as if it only just occurred to her, she asks, “Have you guys met?”
“I don’t think so,” Alex replies in a deep velvet-smooth voice. Up close, it’s easy to see why Kelsey is hung up on him. Dark hair—near black—and gorgeous blue blue eyes. The contrast is stunning. Tall, dark and yummy sums him up to a T.
“Only by reputation,” I joke teasingly, something I haven’t done in ages.
&n
bsp; He gives me a lopsided smile. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Or half the things you see,” Kelsey pipes in.
I lift an eyebrow. “Smart. Ambitious. Athletic? And not too hard on the eyes? Are you saying none of that is true?” I deliberately exclude his aversion to virgins and the string of broken hearts he’s left in his wake.
He looks down at Kelsey and smiles, their communication silent as if sharing an inside joke. I’ll have to ask her about that when we’re alone.
“Have you been talking about me to your friends?” he asks in a sexy teasing kind of way. Shivers.
She nods. “I’m responsible for everything except the not too hard on the eyes part. That was all her, right, Em?”
“Yep, that was all me. I’m someone who believes in calling a spade a spade.”
Alex lets out a deep laugh and slips his arm around Kelsey’s waist, pulling her tight to his side. My friend looks like she’s died and gone to heaven, her eyes sparkling as she beams up at him. Yep, she’s gone. If she hasn’t completely fallen, she’s well on her way. I don’t know him, but it’s clear he likes her a lot and he’s having a great time. I pray things work out for her. For them.
“Do you guys need another drink? This” —I point to the Zenith’s logo on my apron—“means I’m here to serve.”
“No, I’m done, and Alex is driving sooo…we’re good.”
Alex says not a word, content to have her answer for both of them. Not a bad trait in a boyfriend. Some guys would have taken offense.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Graham, drink in hand, exiting the bar. I instinctively scoot a little to my left to make sure that our paths don’t cross. So that our gazes don’t accidentally meet. Not that I think there’s a chance he’ll let that happen with his girlfriend sitting right there.
I focus my attention on my friend and her date. “What time did you get here?”
“Not too long ago. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes,” Alex says.
“We went to see the fireworks out on the Bay. It was great,” Kelsey enthuses before taking a sip of her soda.
Suddenly, Alex’s eyes narrow in concentration, his attention focused somewhere to my right. A wide grin spreads across his face and he says under his breath, “No fucking way.” The next part is loud enough to be heard above the music to someone standing relatively close. “Prescott?”
No. It can’t be him. Graham’s last name is Prescott, but Prescott could also be a guy’s first name, right?
I’m slow to turn to see who’s caught Alex’s attention. But I don’t have to wait long to find out as Graham is suddenly just feet away from me.
“Benton? Christ man, what the hell are you doing here?”
Graham places the glass in his hand on the table at my back before he greets Alex with a man hug—hands clasped between them as their shoulders bump. It’s like awkward gymnastics. They part but not before giving each other a slap on the back.
Men.
“Finishing college. What are you doing here? The last time I heard about you, Todd said you’d gone back to England. He never said anything about you being back.”
“I came back at the beginning of the year—after my dad died.”
As Alex offers his belated condolences, I sidle over closer to Kelsey as we’re currently not part of the conversation, and whisper in her ear. “Who’s Todd?”
She angles her head toward me and whispers back, “Alex’s older brother.”
Okay, that makes sense given Graham has to be two or three years older than Alex.
“Have you been in touch with Richards? I heard he quit his job and left Manhattan,” Alex says.
“As a matter of fact, I see him just about every day. We’re sharing a flat,” Graham says, smiling.
“No shit. Christ, it’s a small world.” Alex marvels.
Is it ever.
It’s at this point that Alex hooks his hand around Kelsey’s waist and pulls her close again. “Kelse, this is Graham. He went to college with my brother. Graham, meet my date, Kelsey.”
Before it becomes more awkward than it already is, I touch Kelsey lightly on the arm and mumble, “I’ll talk to you later.” I quickly make my escape as Alex performs the introductions. I know everyone and everyone knows me. No introductions necessary. Plus, I have to get back to work.
But because my night is filled with one event trying to outdo the other, who should be walking towards me but Graham’s girlfriend.
I tell myself to act normal—whatever that means these days. Treat her like any other customer.
Smile. But not too much or it’ll look fake.
I smile but it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’m pretty sure I’m blowing the fake part out of the water.
My intention is to walk nonchalantly up to table of guys who look like they’re gearing up for the last round with a bunch of empty beer mugs on their table. What I don’t expect her to do is stop in front of me, the smile on her face thin and strained.
Oh crap. Nothing about this is good.
“Can I help you?” I’m polite because that’s how I’d be with any customer.
“Hi, do you remember me from the mall?” She pauses a beat. “I was with Graham.”
Her being fairly pleasant surprises and disarms me into answering truthfully. “Yes, I do. Is there something I can get you?”
And maybe I’ve disarmed her too because she doesn’t immediately respond. A look of well-isn’t-this-interesting flickers across her face. “I heard you just got a job here.”
I decide it’s in my best interest to play it cool. “I’m sorry, and you are?” Strangers walking up to me and launching into a conversation and I don’t even know your name? No, that’s not happening. Something like that requires a formal introduction.
“Oh, how rude of me. Sorry,” she says, not looking the least bit chagrined, “I’m Liane, Graham’s girlfriend.” He’s mine and don’t you forget it, is also implicit in her statement despite the broadness of her smile.
Is this where I’m supposed to reply, any friend of Graham is a friend of mine? I have a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that.
“Are you looking for Graham?” I have nothing to lose by playing ignorant.
“No, I actually wanted to have a couple of words with you.”
Is it terrible that I’m taking a tiny bit of satisfaction that even in her heels she’s still forced to look up at me?
I smile kindly. She’ll never be able to accuse me of not treating her with the utmost respect. “Gee, I’m kind of working right now. Maybe we can talk later?”
Her smile immediately loses its fake brightness and her voice turns as chilly as the air just before snowfall. “Graham’s told me all about you.”
The only thing I can control is my facial expression and I do my best to keep it unchanged when I reply, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, but I think you do.”
No, actually, I don’t. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really have to work.” I move to walk by her but she does the unthinkable—to me it is—and steps in front of me to block my path. She then takes a step closer until not even a half a foot separates us.
“He told me how you used to stalk him and from the looks of it, that’s what you’re doing now.”
I go still as I struggle to digest what I just heard. He told her I stalked him? That’s how he explained our past association? God, I’d rather he’d have told her the truth than that. My fuse is lit.
“Think what you want of me, I don’t really care, but at least have it based in facts. I didn’t stalk your boyfriend, we dated—as in I was once his girlfriend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe this conversation is over.”
I leave before her jaw hits the floor.
Chapter 15
“Where’d Liane go?” Blake asks, sticking his head into my bedroom. At nine in the morning, my flatmate is now getting home. No one can say he doesn’t have an active social
life.
Head down, I finish tying my laces. “Home,” I mutter without so much as glancing up at him. It’s only when he enters the room that I lift my gaze. Dressed in navy slacks and a blue-and-white striped button down, he certainly doesn’t look worse for the wear. Good for him. My night sucked.
I rise from my bed more than ready for my morning jog. I’ve got to expend my energy somehow. And since morning sex is not an option, this will have to do.
“I thought she was staying the weekend.”
That’d been the plan when I’d texted him last night to give him a heads up.
“I’m going for a jog. If you want answers, get your stuff on and let’s get moving.”
Blake mutters something that sounds like “fucking exercise” as he leaves my room and goes to his.
Ten minutes later, we’re taking the elevator to the lobby, both dressed in dark shorts, t-shirts and Nike running shoes.
“So, what happened?” Blake asks after we get off the elevator we shared with three other people and step out into the lobby.
I don’t answer until we’re outside. It’s a warmer than usual, clear, sunny September day with only a hint of autumn weather in the air. “We got into a fight last night. She went home this morning to think things over.” Early this morning, as in six o’clock early. And I hadn’t tried to talk her into staying. We’d said enough to each other when I’d gotten home from the bar hours earlier.
He rolls his eyes as we pick up the pace to a light jog. Our regular route takes us down Main Street and around the high school. “Don’t tell me, she wants to know where the relationship is going.”
“No. She came to the bar last night and saw Emily. Things went downhill from there.”
I’d known it was coming. And without fail, the second I’d gotten home, she’d been waiting for me simmering in hurt and rage.
You lied to me! She’s not your stalker, she’s your fucking ex-girlfriend. She told me so herself. Why would you lie to me about that unless something’s going on between you now?
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