This morning, however, when Gia shouldered her way into the break room, it wasn't only Ricardo sitting at the small table.
"Ah, Gia! You're here," Ricardo announced unnecessarily, pushing to his feet and offering her his stool. There were only two stools, one on either side of the table, and neither of them very comfortable. Ricardo didn't believe in encouraging long breaks. "Please sit."
The guy opposite her rose to his feet, too, as Ricardo continued. "This is Jupiter Valentine. He's my cousin's boy, visiting for a couple of months. He will be working with you in the mornings."
Jupiter thrust a hand toward her in greeting. She just stared at him. Dashing. That was the word that came to mind, but unfortunately, nothing came out of her mouth. Latte-hued complexion and hair that curled playfully over one long-lashed amber eye, a slight overbite that only added to his boyish appeal. He blinked, twice, slowly. Hypnotically. Snap out of it, girlie!
"Wait. Wha—huh?" So much for epic warrior woman grand entrances. Gia cringed at the sound of her stuttered response. She looked back and forth between the two men several times until she noticed one side of Jupiter's—Jupiter! Was that even a real name?—mouth hitch up in amusement. Dang it. There went one of his eyebrows, too.
And then she realized that her own mouth was hanging slightly open. In shock, of course. Absolutely not in awestruck wonder, even though he was, like his name alluded to—if that really was his name—a bit of a brooding Adonis with his broad forehead over deep-set eyes, and his regal Roman nose. He looked like Phoebe's favorite French actor, Louis Garrel, except Jupiter's lips were fuller, more shapely. And was that—no, it couldn't be. Yep. A cleft in his chin. Seriously?
Okay. So maybe she was gaping at him a little. She clamped her jaws shut. She didn't know what question to ask first. Jupiter Valentine? Seriously? And why hadn't Ricardo said anything last week? And why was it her job to babysit the guy during the busiest hours of the day? Why couldn't he start evenings like every other new employee? And hold up. If he was family, did she have to give him special treatment? And seriously, what kind of name was Jupiter Valentine, anyway?
How many times was she going to say the word 'seriously' in her head?
Her teeth clenched, she reached across the table and shook his still outstretched hand once, firmly, then crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at Ricardo, vowing not to look at Jupiter or his stupid smirk again. "Did I know about this?" She clutched the side seams of her shirt, resisting the urge to wave a hand at the guy who still stood, apparently waiting for her to sit first. She wracked her mind, trying to remember any mention of it. With all the buildup to the wedding, maybe she'd just forgotten, or misheard, or—
No. She was sure she'd have remembered something like this.
Ricardo confirmed it by shaking his head and wrapping a wiry arm around her shoulders. "Jupiter is taking a few local classes. He has insisted on helping out while staying with me." He chuckled and shrugged. "You know me, Gia. I'm not going to refuse an offer of free labor, right?"
Gia shot him a scathing look, not bothering to answer such a ridiculous question. Ricardo wouldn't be the one babysitting, she would.
"And I knew I could count on you to make my nephew feel at home. You're a good girl, Gia." Ricardo beamed benevolently at both Gia and Jupiter, and then squeezed her shoulders before releasing her to clap his hands together. It was a gesture he made often; he clapped to signify a job well done, a task completed, a done deal.
Oh no, buddy boy. We are not done, not by a long shot. On any other day, she might have nodded her head like the 'good girl' that everyone claimed her to be and gone about making Jupiter—okay, the name was kinda growing on her—feel at home. But today? She glanced down at the toes of her black leather boots, and then turned to face Ricardo's nephew. "Have you ever worked in food service before? Do you know how to make a good cup of coffee? Operate a commercial espresso machine?"
Ricardo made an odd noise that sounded a bit like surprise, but Jupiter gave him a look that quieted him. Gia wondered if the guy would teach her the look that would silence Ricardo so effectively; the man often talked a blue streak, especially after his second cup of the high octane stuff he brewed in the back for his staff... but that request would have to wait until she wasn't ticked about the current situation.
Jupiter gestured at the stool Ricardo had vacated, and his eyelids lowered a little, giving her a look she could only assume was his version of bedroom eyes. Gia had to admit it was effective, even though she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know. "Please, sit," he said when she just continued to glare at him. "Allow me to tell you all about my skills."
"Seriously?" This time, she said it out loud, and then felt the heat creeping up her chest and neck.
The guy had an accent. A lovely, lilting, exotic, hypnotic—there was that word again—accent. Mediterranean? Italian? Greek? Or was it South American? Brazil, maybe? She was terrible with accents, but Ricardo, who boasted of being a born-and-raised American citizen, had made mention now and then of distant relatives living in other parts of the world. At the moment, however, she just couldn't remember what those other parts were.
She turned away from Jupiter and grabbed the stool, pulling it close. She sat so she'd have something to do and took her time getting comfortable, straightening the hem of her skirt over her legs as she listened to him settle back onto his own stool. She grimaced in mild distaste; the seat cushion was still warm from Ricardo's occupation of it. Then she rested her forearms on the table, took a calming breath, and lifted her gaze to meet Jupiter's.
"Seriously," the guy said, the grin now encompassing his whole mouth. He had perfectly straight white teeth, too. Of course. "I am sorry about the surprise I am to you. You did not expect to see me today, so I understand. But you are a surprise to me, too."
Gia cocked her head, her long braid slipping forward over one shoulder, drawing Jupiter's eyes away from her face to follow its snake-like swish. "What does that mean?"
"Uncle Ricardo, he tells me you are the best manager he has. He tells me you are a woman of honor and grace with his customers." He darted a glance at his uncle who nodded in agreement.
"I'll leave the two of you to it. I have to make a few phone calls," Ricardo said, reaching across the table to lay a hand momentarily on top of Jupiter's head. "This woman is your boss when I am not available. You do as she says, you hear?"
Jupiter nodded and shot him a conciliatory grin. "I hear with both ears and my heart, Uncle."
Gia watched as Ricardo disappeared into his little office and then turned back to Jupiter, still not saying a word. By his own admission, he knew a lot more about her than she did about him, and that fact alone made his claim to be surprised debatable.
When the door to Ricardo's office closed with a taunting click, Jupiter leaned forward, bracing his own forearms on the table like she did. "But he did not tell me that you were so beautiful, or that you have eyes the color of the sea water on a summer day. He did not tell—"
Her eyes grew wider with every word until she cut him off. "Stop, please, Mr. Sappy Valentine Card." She paused and cocked her head, considering. "Oh, that's good," she remarked, congratulating herself on her quick wit. "Mr. Valentine Card. Or should I call you Mr. Hallmark?"
At his confused, but still pleasant expression, she shook her head. "Never mind. Listen, your flattery is... acknowledged, but not necessary. It won't change my opinion of the circumstances, nor will it change my opinion of you, since I don't know you well enough to have formed one yet."
Jupiter's eyebrow rose again, this time, in obvious disbelief. Well, she had just called him sappy and threatened to call him Mr. Hallmark.
"Keep that up, and I'll form an opinion real quick," she said. They shared an impromptu stare down and then he relented with a shrug of his shoulders, and took a sip of his coffee.
Coffee. She needed coffee. Surely, that would help. Then she narrowed her eyes
at the mug in Jupiter's hand. Her mug. The one that said 'Mrs. Cullen' on it in dripping blood letters. The one Phoebe had designed for her years ago to commemorate the first of many Twilight movie marathons. It had been a long time since the girls had gotten together to swoon over Robert Pattinson's brooding, bloodthirsty, predator stares. Months ago, she'd found the mug at the back of Phoebe's cupboard and brought it to work with her because it made her happy thinking about her sisters. And every employee at Ricardo's Cafe knew, without exception, that no one—no one—used her mug without permission. Which she would never give anyway, so no one even bothered asking. Now into her territory waltzed this guy with the ridiculous name, all suave and entitled, attempting to sweet talk her into putting up with him, and using her mug!
"Too late, Mrs. Cullen," she quipped. "Opinion formed after all." She pushed to her feet, palms pressed to the table top, and leaned forward to look him boldly in the eyes. "I'm not on the clock until 7:30. I'll meet you at the front counter in twenty minutes and you can show me your barista skills then." She emphasized the word to make sure he understood she wasn't interested in any other skills he might possess. Then she tapped the side of the mug he held. "Let's hope your dish washing skills are up to snuff. I want to see my coffee cup sparkle like a naked vampire in the sun—no, like sea water on a summer day!—when you're done with it." Oh, yeah! She was back on her game. She might have chortled to herself had she not been so fired up. She spun on her heel and strode out of the break room, her spine straight, shoulders back, her stride long and sure.
At least she made an epic warrior woman grand exit.
Seriously.
CHAPTER THREE
Gia couldn’t really say why she was so upset about Jupiter being added to her morning shift duties. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn't really about the guy, himself, but about Ricardo's assumption that she'd be cool with everything. That she wouldn't take issue with him just foisting a complete stranger on her, even though he knew her job was fast-paced and busy all day long, but especially in the mornings. Granted, it was her ability to keep a cool head and a warm smile on her face that made her good at her job, but that didn't mean it was easy. And today, with all the thoughts of change, of the murky future, of new beginnings and time passing, Gia didn't feel like the steady creature everyone insisted she was.
None of that, however, was Jupiter's fault. She supposed he hadn't intentionally offended her by using her sacred mug, either. How was he supposed to know he was breaking a cardinal break room rule? Sure, Ricardo knew well enough, but maybe he hadn't said anything because he was trying to help his nephew—was that the right thing to call him? Cousin once removed? Second cousin?—feel at ease. She could have been a little kinder to him, too, she admitted. At least a little more hospitable than she'd been.
It was still early enough in April that the mornings were chilly, so even with a large cup of hot coffee, she was too cold to be comfortable as she mulled over things in the front seat of her car. She wasn't looking forward to facing Jupiter now that her emotions had settled, but she didn't know what to say to him. Sorry I got upset that you showed up to help me today? Sorry I freaked out that some guy with a Roman god name and a Greek god physique and the kind of face that might be immortalized by the likes of Michelangelo and Donatello showed up to hang out with me all morning long, especially since I look pretty amazing myself today?
At least if she waited until the last minute to head back inside, they could go right to work and they wouldn't have to endure any awkward conversation—or silence—about her bad behavior.
She cranked up the radio, wrapped her hands around the hot cup, and let her shoulders sag as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. A throaty voice emanating from the car speakers swirled around her as the heavy base and rhythm section of the band drove the song through her. She didn't recognized the group, but the brooding music resonated with her.
What a craptastic way to start a Monday.
The sharp rap on the window sounded like a gunshot over the music, and Gia jolted upright, sloshing coffee from the tiny opening in the plastic cup lid over her hands. She yelped, and then held the cup away from her over the passenger side floor to get her skirt and leggings out of the line of fire. She looked down and groaned. Too late. A moment later, she felt the burn of the hot liquid on her thigh as it soaked through both layers, and with her free hand, she began flapping the hem of her skirt up and down to cool the spot. And of course, there were no loose napkins lying around her car today—she'd cleaned it out after all the wedding festivities were over.
Gia turned to see who had scared her, and didn't even bat an eyelash when she saw him. Jupiter. Of course. She stopped the music and rolled down her window, attempting to act nonchalant, even though she knew full well that he'd witnessed the whole thing. There were no tinted windows on her car.
"Did you need something?" she asked.
He didn't speak right away, but instead, fumbled in his back pocket for something. A moment later, he handed her a folded cloth. "Please accept this along with my apology. I did not mean to startle you." It was a handkerchief. A real, live, old-fashioned snot collector, as Grandpa called them.
"What do you want me to do with this?" She took it, but didn't bother unfolding it. "I'm not sitting in here crying or anything."
"For your spilled coffee," he said, his tone apologetic. "I insist." He gestured toward the growing wet spot on Gia's skirt and then grinned. "I have not used it, I promise."
She should just go inside and rinse the skirt out now. At least the fabric was dark, but it would still be ugly all day and would totally undermine her epicness. Which had already taken a volley of hits as it was. "Thank you," she said, dabbing at the back of her hand and then at the wet spot. "I'll wash this and bring it back in the morning."
Jupiter just stood there watching her, his hands shoved casually in front pockets of his pants, but his forearms, exposed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves, goose-fleshed noticeably. Gia sighed and hit the unlock button. "If you're just going to stand there ogling me, you might as well get in. It's cold."
He paused for a moment, almost as though trying to decide whether or not he really wanted to be alone in a car with a crazy woman, and then sauntered around the hood, holding her gaze through the windshield until she dropped her eyes to her lap and continued pressing the handkerchief against her skirt.
"Why, Gia?" she muttered under her breath. "You'll just encourage him."
He opened the passenger door and slid into the seat before she could answer herself. "Ciao," he said, pressing his palms against his knees so the muscles in his forearms rippled effectively. Yeah, she noticed.
"Chow," she replied. When he said it, even through teeth clenched with cold, the greeting sounded exotic, fascinating. Coming out of her mouth it sounded like cheap dog food. And it tasted like humble pie. She took a deep breath and released it dramatically before turning to face him. "So. I'm sorry I snapped at you in there. Nice welcoming committee, aren't I?" She snorted and added with a slight note of derision, "I'm supposed to be a nice girl."
Jupiter narrowed his eyes and gazed out the window at the cafe's employee entrance. "It's okay," he replied. "I understand your surprise, and I also understand your concern. It is always a bit difficult to start a new employee, yes?"
She nodded, and then shook her head, not wanting to seem too quick to agree. "That doesn't change the fact that I wasn't nice."
"Ah," Jupiter said, turning those lidded eyes to her again. "But perhaps I like you better because you are not so nice."
"Okay, okay. Stop." She held up a hand and smiled politely, even though she could feel her cheeks warm. "I don't know where you're from, but here in America, especially here in Southern California, people get really jumpy about this kind of stuff in the work place."
"This kind of stuff? What kind of stuff do you mean?" He seemed genuinely curious.
"The whole flirt
ing and flattery stuff," she said. Now she was embarrassed, realizing how presumptuous she sounded. "Not that you were flirting with me, or that I'm upset by it, per se, but as your manager, it's my responsibility to let you know that you could get in trouble for saying those things on the job, especially if you make the other person uncomfortable." Ugh. Now she just sounded like a pompous know-it-all.
"I am making you uncomfortable?"
"No." She quickly assured him, but then faltered. "Well, yes, maybe a little. I'm not used to the whole flowery speech thing from a complete stranger." She waved her hand around in the air between them.
"But how are we supposed to become more than strangers if we do not speak with honesty? I do think you are a beautiful girl. You make me think of strawberries and cream with your hair and complexion. Or fire and ice."
Good Godiva, he was so cliché with his compliments. She had to narrow her eyes to keep from rolling them.
He continued, oblivious to her reaction. "And I would be happy to know if you are impressed by me in some way. Do you like my eyes? Or perhaps my... eh... fossetta?" He pressed a fingertip to the dip in his chin, frowned a moment, then said, "What is the word in English?"
"Cleft?" Yeah, she did kinda like it, but she wasn't about to say so.
"No, that is not the word I am thinking of." He pursed his lips in thought, and with his finger resting on his chin, pointing at his mouth, she couldn't help but look a little too long.
"Dimple?" she suggested, her voice sounding... ummm, stupid? Get it together, girlie!
"Yes! Dimple. That is the word, yes?" He turned in the seat so he was facing her more fully, in spite of the fact that there wasn't a whole lot of room for his legs to maneuver in the compact car.
"Sorta." Technically, wasn't a cleft chin really just a dimpled chin, too? "We usually call these dimples." She pointed to the divot in her cheek that appeared when she smiled widely to demonstrate. "It's caused by muscle connected to the skin, so when you tighten the muscle, it pulls in the skin, see? But that—" She reached out and touched his chin without thinking,"—is officially called a cleft, because it's a structural thing in the bones. It happens when the two sides of your jaw don't completely fuse together leaving an opening or a cleft in the actual bone. You can feel the shape of it underneath the tissue." She pressed a little harder, moving her fingertip back and forth a little. Sure enough, she could feel the pronounced indentation at the center of his chin. "And yes, in fact. I do like it. My Grandpa has a really prominent one, and I think it's cool."
Phoebe and the Rock of Ages Page 28