by Emery Cross
Obviously, not being my lover anymore wasn't going to stop him from looking out for me. If I let him, he would always come to my rescue, no matter how I'd hurt or disappointed him.
I turned on the ignition when he signaled me to. Nothing. After a few more attempts, it was clear the battery was dead.
Without a word, he got out of his truck and efficiently unhooked the cables and stashed them back in his truck.
As I stepped out of my car he said, "You could just quit the job."
"I will. Just not today."
"Fine. Let's go. I'll give you a ride."
Still my hero, but definitely gruffer.
I climbed into the truck, and I was instantly shaky, like I was experiencing a swift blood sugar drop. Losing Rowley was making my whole nervous system feel out of whack.
"So you're a blonde now." We hadn't even pulled out of the driveway yet and he was already sounding pissed off. "Change anything else? Do you have some new piercings or tattoos under those clothes?"
"What do you care? It's not like you'll ever see them if I did?"
"Still the same smart-mouthed brat."
I had to ask. "Do you not like the blonde?"
"Baby, you'd be beautiful in any shade. But that silky red. Jesus, that just does me in."
I sensed his eyes on me as we idled at a stoplight. As soon as we were moving again I discreetly tucked my left hand into the pocket of my sweatshirt. Maybe he wouldn't care anymore since we were over, but why open up that can of worms again?
I kept communication to a minimum, and just called out simple directions. "You want to get on the freeway going north."
"Get off on this ramp and then make a right at the first light." I pointed up toward the hills. The restaurant was a wide one story building with windows facing out over the city. "Take this drive."
It was a long twisting road and the restaurant was the only building at the end of it. I'd wondered if this had once been someone's glamorous residence before becoming a not-so-hip rich dudes meeting place.
"Now I know that's not my ring you're wearing, darlin'. So who the fucks is it?"
Since my hand was still jammed in my pocket, he'd obviously glimpsed the ring at the start of the drive and had been stewing about it the entire time. Now he was going to make me even more rattled just before I went into work.
"It's just a ring. Wearing it makes the job less of a hassle."
His jaw was ticking in obvious anger. He brought the truck to an abrupt halt on the long winding drive.
I stayed silent.
He swung the truck around, making a u-turn which took us onto the dirt shoulder. I put my hand out to steady myself on the dashboard as the truck bumped back onto the paved road.
"You're going to make me late," I said. A vision of me jumping from the truck flashed through my mind, but the job certainly wasn't worth a broken ankle. "You know this is the twenty-first century, right? Women do have a say in their lives now."
He shrugged, an arrogant male animal not caring what the hell century it was.
"I've never been fired before."
"Preempt that. Call and quit."
"Kind of ironic you pushing me to quit something," I said.
"Yeah, ain't it?"
I quickly dialed and held my breath while Seth the bartender went to get the manager.
Hank was a jerk who, I was sure, considered all his employees replaceable, yet he was giving me a hard time about leaving. I could feel Rowley getting tenser as the conversation continued. Afraid he was about to grab the phone from my hand and tell my manager to go screw himself, I finally pulled out a desperate lie.
"I'm really sorry to leave you shorthanded, but there's a family emergency I need to attend to."
Hank sighed audibly before he finally informed me he'd put my final check in the mail.
I ended the call and glanced over at Rowley. "Happy now?"
"Nah, baby, you still have the ring on."
"Wow, is this how you'd be as a husband?"
"Yeah, you really dodged a bullet there, sweetheart. Because I sure as fuck wouldn't let you work at a shit place like that again, where you have to worry about customers harassing you. And I would absolutely insist that the only ring you wear is the one I put on your finger."
I slipped the ring off and stashed it in my purse. "Drop me off at the bakery, please. I'm going to use my con-artist wiles and get Stuart to give me my job back."
He slid me an annoyed look. "Stop working for awhile. I've got you."
"I couldn't ask you to do that."
"Stubborn as all get-out."
His phone rang and he stuck a Bluetooth earbud in his ear. I couldn't make out much of his clipped conversation. I thought it pertained to work until I heard the name Mariah and my whole body tensed with jealousy. He was seeing someone else already. That was sure quick.
He ended the call and dropped the earbud back in the tray in the dashboard.
The village was always packed on the weekends, but mid-week it was like a ghost town. Rowley was able to find parking right in front of the bakery.
"Thanks. I can walk home from here if he doesn't go for it."
He put the car in park and turned off the ignition.
I stopped with my hand on the door handle. "Won't Mariah be upset if you keep her waiting?"
He lifted his eyebrows. "Mariah is a fire. It's named for the campground where it started."
Jeez, I'd been jealous of a fire. "Is this the one up north? Why does it suddenly have a name? Okay, don't answer that, I know. Because it's a devastating one. Do you have to go?"
"Just waiting for official orders."
"But it's so far away. Why are they calling you in?"
"They'll probably need to deploy teams from all over California." His lips tilted crookedly. "Careful, baby, I might actually think you care."
"You know I care." I swallowed hard. "I'm in love with you."
I caught the flash of surprise in his hazel eyes then he quickly shuttered his gaze. "Actions speak louder, darlin'." His voice sounded strained. "You refused to marry me. Hell, you wouldn't even hang your clothes in my closet. It took an argument just to get you to leave your toothbrush in my bathroom."
I blushed. My words did sound hollow when confronted with his list of grievances. And it wasn't worth trying to defend my reason for rejecting him. My fear of failing was starting to seem so unbelievably insignificant compared to my fear of losing him forever.
"You make some good points." I tried for a smile. "I promise I won't say it again." I turned my back to him and climbed out of the truck.
I felt his eyes on me as I navigated the cracked sidewalk in my heels. I shivered a bit at the familiar tinny sound of the electronic chime as I opened the glass door of the bakery.
I was going backwards instead of forwards in life. Everything about my existence was fleeting and unsettled and I was letting the only person who gave me any sense of stability or wish for stability slip away.
I could hear pans clanging in the back room. It was probably Stuart getting ready for a long night of baking.
There was a new girl behind the counter.
"Not sure what I want yet," I said to her. A rather ridiculous statement, considering the limited choices available. There were only three apricot pastries and a single chocolate cupcake left. Stuart wouldn't be making any rum balls tonight. There weren't enough leftover bakery goods to bother.
"Sure, take your time." The girl did not even try to disguise the fact that she was bored.
"I'll take the cupcake," I said. Why was I keeping my voice low? For that matter, why hadn't I asked to speak to Stuart first thing?
Stuart would have a fit to see his new employee drop the cupcake into a bag rather than place it into a small pink box. I didn't bother to complain, just tucked the bag carefully into my purse so I wouldn't smash the icing. I stepped outside and gave Rowley a big confident smile and a thumbs up.
He did not wave back as he pulled away
from the curb.
I stood there until his truck rounded the corner then started walking toward the discount clothing shop to buy a suitable skirt for job hunting. I was tired of just skating by in dead end jobs. I was going to renege on my big-shot threat to be out by the end of the month, and stay on at the guesthouse until I found a better position.
I had about a month's worth of wages saved up. Not much of a cushion, but I needed to find a different path. I would try the old-fashioned door-to-door approach. I'd put my resume in at every high-end restaurant in town. Somebody had to need a line cook or an apprentice pastry chef.
I left the store wearing the longer, more suitable black skirt then I stopped by the copy shop to have the resume I'd saved in my online documents folder printed. I hit the two restaurants in the village then turned left onto the main street, intending to stop at any promising spot along the way.
One manager told me to come back in two weeks, that he had a hostess slot opening up. The owner of another restaurant leered at me and gave me a business card for a bar he owned and told me I'd be perfect for waiting tables. No one I'd encountered seemed to take my asking for a job in the kitchen seriously.
My toes were numb and my arches were aching by the time I returned to the guesthouse. Though I wasn't expecting to see Rowley's truck, its absence grabbed at my heart. Was he already on his way up north to that inferno?
I let myself in and kicked off my pumps. I pulled the bakery bag from my purse, removed the cupcake and peeled back the paper. I munched away, dropping crumbs on my shirt as I hobbled into the kitchen on tender feet. I needed some water to wash down the rich dessert.
A warranty for a new battery was secured to the fridge door with a magnet clip. Rowley Ford to the rescue...again.
I turned on my laptop and searched for news about Mariah. Maybe they'd made progress containing it. Maybe he wouldn't have to go after all.
I swallowed hard. Two firefighters had already lost their lives and there had been zero containment. The fire was not only raging out of control, but strong winds were predicted for the coming days. I shut the laptop and pushed it away. I was going to have to stay away from the Internet and TV for a few days.
I needed a glass of wine to settle my nerves. I opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of white I'd bought for the cozy night I'd had planned, which he'd proceeded to ruin by asking me to marry him. The nerve of that guy, I thought.
I shut the fridge door and the battery warranty paper fell. I leaned over and picked it up then shoved it in the drawer where I kept my bills. It met resistance, a big fat envelope that I didn't recognize. I pulled it out of the drawer. It held a stapled sheath of papers. I unfolded them and pulled in a shaky breath. It was a life insurance policy. Rowley had made me his beneficiary. I stared at it for awhile through a blur of tears and then carefully replaced the papers back in the envelope, and put the envelope back in the drawer out of sight.
THE NEXT DAY, WITH renewed determination, I drove into the city and hit what was known as restaurant row. I started out strong, keeping myself fueled with coffee. I asked to speak to the manager at every promising eatery along the way. Usually, I just had to leave my resume at the counter. The two managers who took the time to speak to me didn't give me much hope.
On my way to the car, I glanced a help wanted sign in the window of what looked like a sandwich shop. There were surprisingly delicate bakery creations in the window display case and the menu had creative sandwich choices. I went inside.
The kitchen was viewable behind the counter and a tattooed young woman clad in a white double breasted chef's coat was piping a lace pattern on a wedding cake. My instincts told me she was the shop's owner.
The woman glanced up at me as I approached the counter. She had piercings in her eyebrows and teal streaks in her short black hair. Her gaze took in my outfit. From her expression, I guessed I didn't look hip enough to work in her establishment. I set my resume down on the counter anyway. "I saw your sign."
"It's a part-time counter job."
I took back my resume. "Oh, okay. I was looking for something in the kitchen. Apprentice pastry chef, prep cook..." I let my words trail off.
I ordered a large decaf coffee, figuring I'd had enough caffeine for one day, and a petit four iced in white and decorated with tiny purple and pink flowers. I sat down at one of the small tables in the front of the shop. I took a nibble of the perfect little cake and nearly gave myself a sugar orgasm. I polished it off in two more bites and considered buying half a dozen to take home with me. I sipped my coffee instead. They were too expensive, besides, I really needed to get control of my sweet tooth.
The shop was empty, but I sensed it was a thriving little business. It was merely the lull before the early dinner crowd. The shabby chic decor had a French twist with vintage Paris posters and a cancan doll with a feather in her hair perched atop a pale blue curio cabinet.
"Have you ever baked?"
I turned my head to look at her. She was filling one of the display trays with croissants.
"Yes. Cupcakes, donuts, pies. Nothing overly-complicated. I'm starting a culinary school in a couple of months. There are a series of courses dedicated to French pastries."
"Get in touch with me once you've completed a semester and if you’re still interested, I'll figure something out."
She wrote her name and mobile phone number on the back of a business card. "Thanks. I definitely will."
That decided it for me. This was the push I needed to go forward. I would take Rowley up on his generous offer and take a break from working and then devote myself to those classes. I wanted to be a part of her quaint gourmet shop, it seemed a perfect fit for me.
CHAPTER 13
HARPER
I COULDN’T STAY AWAY from the news. I had to know what was going on. The scenes were frightening: emergency workers carrying body bags, abandoned burned out cars, houses leveled to the foundation.
There were images of firefighters, sooty and exhausted sitting on the ground and scarfing down food from Styrofoam boxes, the blazing fire a too close for comfort backdrop. But there was hope. There had been intermittent showers this morning and rain was expected tomorrow, as well.
I wanted to call him. But did I have the right to?
I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and checked the weather online instead. Same forecast as the local news.
I said a silent prayer. He would be coming home soon.
Time to apply the forward motion to my personal life as well. I might not be ready for marriage, but moving in seemed doable.
I found the fake rock Rowley had pointed out to me in the backyard garden and pried open the panel and dropped the emergency house key onto my palm. I had second, third, and fourth thoughts as I stuffed my belongings in a couple of trash bags and then hauled the bags from the cottage to his house. I was doing something that could prove as humiliating as the prom fiasco. What if he was over me? Yes, he'd made me his beneficiary, but maybe that was just because he felt sorry for me.
I couldn't bring myself to go so far as to unpack. If I needed to get out of there I wanted to be able to make a hasty exit.
I spotted the ring box atop his dresser. Relief surged through me. He hadn’t returned it, or sold it, or whatever one did with an unaccepted engagement ring.
I opened the lid, telling myself I would just put it on for a second. I posed with it in the mirror, flashing it around to catch the light. What harm would there be to wear it for awhile?
I took off all my clothes and slipped on a slinky thigh-high nightgown. I’d gone a little crazy buying lingerie during our short time together. I climbed between the cool sheets. What if he kicked me out of his bed? I would just shrivel up and die probably.
He didn't return that night. It shook my determination some, but the next night I returned to his bed wearing a lacy number. And the following night, I chose a sheer babydoll nightie.
I jerked awake, my heart pumping. I narrowed my eyes agai
nst the bright lights. My pulse rate leaped as I recalled whose bed I was sleeping in. I sat up and clutched the sheet to hide my near nakedness and twisted around to find Rowley's broad body blocking the doorway.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. "You're home safe."
For his part, he looked flat-out stunned. What a stupendously stupid idea I'd had. It was certainly too late to make a dignified exit now.
"I come home to find Goldilocks in my bed." Funnily enough, actually not so funny, he did sound gruff as a bear. He glanced over at the trash bags filled with my stuff and then back at me. His gaze clearly zeroed in on my hand, more specifically on the ring I had no right to be wearing.
"You'd probably prefer Gingerlocks," I said with a timid smile.
He didn't return the smile. Actually the closest he’d gotten to anything resembling a smile since he’d broken it off with me was a slight quirk of his lips.
"I'll leave."
"Darlin', that's exactly where you belong. But nothing's changed. I still want marriage."
"But I've moved in."
"No. You moved garbage bags filled with clothes a few hundred yards is all."
"Okay," I said quietly.
He tilted his head forward. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
I pulled in a shaky breath and then said very distinctly. "Yes, I will marry you."
I’d stunned him again. I caught the flash of surprise in his hazel eyes. "Now that wasn't so difficult," he drawled. "Grab a dress and we'll go to Vegas."
"Tonight? You must be exhausted."
"Just get a dress or wear that sheet, whichever. Makes no difference to me."
I didn’t opt for the sheet. I remembered my last mad search for something that would pass as a negligee. My wardrobe hadn’t improved much since that night. I had only a few summer dresses to choose from. I dug through the bags stuffed with my clothes, for something with more oomph. I ended up piecing together an outfit from some of my band gear. I combined an off-the-shoulder white lace top with a snug silver bandage skirt. I curled my hair quickly with a hot iron, applied some mascara, and then a hint of berry lipstick.