by J. M. Adele
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine doing what I’m doing. I’ve managed this far.”
“Ooh, that reminds me.” Chelsea sprang to her feet, retrieving her mama’s present from the kitchen and placing it in her lap. “Go ahead, open it.”
A beautiful smile tugged up her mama’s lips. “Oh, goodness. I forgot all about the presents.”
Ripping open the paper, it took her a few seconds to register what she was seeing. “What is this? Is it—”
“Do you like it? I found a graphic designer in Boston who designed the logo for us.” Pulling out an apron, she hooked it over her head. “A sweet roll reading a book while sitting in a wingback chair. I thought it was cute. We can change it if you don’t like it, it’s not set in stone.”
“And a T-shirt to match. Are these the paper bags we’ll be using too? Oh! How wonderful. Books, Nooks, and Nibbles.” She smoothed a thumb over the picture on the bags. “I love them. Thank you, sweetheart.”
A tinge of sadness marred the smile on her mama’s face before they hugged.
“I am coming home, Mama. We will do this together.”
“Okay, honey.” Nodding, she took a seat, crossing her flannel clad legs. “Tell me all about this man. I think he’ll be an important part of your future, no matter what you decide.”
I think you’re right, Mama.
_____
The dining room at the Murphy’s held so many of Chelsea’s best memories of growing up. Every Christmas, since that first one in Alabama, she and her mama had been invited to join the Irish brothers and their brood around the big antique table in the dining room. Thirteen people fit easily. Given the size of the Murphy men, that was a spectacular feat. Everything about the home was huge, including the craic when this group got together. The house had been passed down from Angel’s mother’s side, but the Murphys made it their own.
Harvey Murphy, the youngest and loudest brother, licked cranberry sauce from his thumb. “That was delicious, Angel. You do your mother proud.”
Angel fussed with cleaning Addy’s little face, but the little girl squirmed, reaching for more stuffing, and then dropping half of it in her lap. Angel’s five cousins were seated at the other end, taking turns cooing over Angel’s son, Harrison, who sat quiet and wide eyed, taking it all in.
“Thanks, Uncle Harvey.”
“Now, where’s Mary’s puddin’?” He spread his hands over his belly and winked at Chelsea’s mom.
She blushed. “There is no end to your stomach.”
Harvey coveted her mama’s puddings since he first tasted one. His red-bearded face was a regular fixture at the bakery where she worked.
“It ends where I’m sitting, but I empty it on the regular, so I can fill it all I want.” He clinked whiskey glasses with his brother, Harry, who sat across from him, snorting with glee.
Chelsea joined in. She never failed to leave these gatherings without sore cheeks from laughing too much.
“Harvey. The children.” Angel’s aunt, Dulcie, elbowed her husband in the ribs, turning the color of beetroot. She’d married the man. She should be used to his humor by now.
“When are we going to see the opening of your place?” Angel’s Dad asked from the head of the table.
“It’ll be a while yet, I think.” Her mama’s eyes landed on hers briefly, doubt in their depths.
Chelsea’s throat squeezed, knowing she’d put it there. “Hopefully in a few years, depending on the finances, and if we can find a suitable place. I’ve scoped out some bakery equipment places. We should be able to get some quality second-hand equipment for a decent price. I have the numbers of the contractors you recommended to fit the shop. I’m getting all the figures and information together so I know what it will take to start up. Once we have the money and the space, we need to find a designer. Mama will have to work with them on the plans. But first thing’s first, I have to find a job.”
“You’ll have no trouble there. A woman like you would be an asset to any business.”
“Thanks, Hank. Let’s hope you’re right.”
If only she knew in which city she should start searching.
Now She Was Getting It
After lunch, the party moved into the parlor, and Chelsea pulled Angel aside, dragging her to the library.
“What is goin’ on, Chelsea?”
“I need your advice.”
“Okay, so ask instead of ripping my arm from its socket.” Angel rubbed her shoulder, glaring daggers.
“Sorry. I don’t know my own strength. Could you please help me make the biggest decision of my life?”
“Sounds ominous. I’ll do my best. Shoot.”
They took a seat at each end of one of the sofas.
“Fuck, it’s cold in here.”
“I wasn’t expecting to use this room, so I didn’t light the fire. Take the throw off the back of the armchair. And stop stalling.”
Chelsea tugged the blanket over their legs. “I’ve fallen in love with the tall drink of water from the gas station.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Angel pinned a stare on Chelsea from under her eyelashes. “The guy you met at the diner after you forced me to drop you off, leaving you in possible peril?”
“I’m not proud of my actions, believe me. I’m sorry I did that to you. It turns out he was headed to Boston to work for his uncle, my boss. He’s training to be a chef.”
“Wow.” She raised both hands, spreading her fingers wide.
“Yeah, wow. He can cook. I mean he can really cook. No offense, honey, but his turkey leaves your turkey in the dust.” Chelsea wrinkled her nose, all contrite.
“So it should, if he’s going to cook for a living. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, he’s got New York in his sights and I’m headed back here. Lord, we’re not even dating and I’m thinking of forever with him. How stupid is that?”
Angel shrugged. “It’s not stupid if you’re in love with him. You don’t have to be dating someone to fall in love. It’s gonna happen if it’s meant to be, without the help of candlelit dinners and walks on the beach.”
“I thought I could keep him at bay, but he got in under my defenses and now I’m in this goddamn situation where I want to ride him cowgirl style, but I can’t because I’ll never be able to leave after that. I can’t let Mama down. I can’t picture a life anywhere but here.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Her friend tilted her head and lifted a brow.
Pushing her hair off her face, Chelsea trapped the air in her lungs as Angel watched through sharp green eyes.
Can’t or won’t?
She let the question sink down into her heart in search of the truth. Hadn’t Grey said that she didn’t think she deserved the love of a man? She’d written that part off as trash talk, but maybe he was right. Her own father hated her existence. Had tried to make sure she was never born. And then with what had happened to Beth … And the reason Chelsea wasn’t there to save her.
Chelsea spent years holding all males in contempt. She unashamedly played them before they could play her. The truth was, she craved their affection, starved for something she saw every other girl receive, and not herself.
Hank had done his best as a surrogate father of sorts, but he wasn’t hers. Chelsea wanted someone she could claim as her own. Someone who would take her, faults and all. But she had to believe that she was worthy first. That he wouldn’t leave her because she wasn’t good enough. And she needed to be able to take the huge leap of faith to call Boston home, leaving her mama behind.
“Won’t.” Dropping her hand, she twisted her mouth to the side in a rueful smile. “How hard was it for you to decide to drop everything to be with Aiden?”
“Easiest decision of my life. I didn’t want to leave, but it wasn’t a choice for me. I would’ve found a way to get us back here. I would’ve fought for us with every breath. I’m just sorry he couldn’t do the same.” Angel’s mouth twisted as she dropped her eyes to her lap.
/> “Aw, babe. We don’t know what that sonofabitch did to him. Don’t lose faith in what you had. It was real.”
“Then, where is he now?”
“I wish I could tell you.” Chelsea paused, shuffling her legs and contemplating whether she should share her other bit of news. After a couple of seconds, she sat up, unable to hold it in. “I saw my sperm donor.”
“What!?”
“Yeah. He came into work. I had to serve him. He’s still a prick.”
“Is he living in Boston now, or just there on work?”
“I didn’t get his particulars, Angel. He’s a fan of Bollinger, if that helps?”
“Who was he with?” Angel’s hand gripped the blanket, her voice trembling with the tentative question.
“Work colleagues. Sorry, hun.”
She dipped her eyes again, fiddling with the blanket. “Does your mama know?
“No, I didn’t want to tell her. She doesn’t need to know. It’ll only upset her.”
“True. Should I be worried about him returning to hurt you?”
“I don’t think so. Grey would have his balls.” She smirked at the recollection of his promise.
“He’d protect you against a man like that? He’s a keeper, honey. Pure and simple.” She reached for Chelsea’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
She tried to picture Grey here in her world, surrounded by all the people she loved, and damn it, the vision was clear. He would fit right in. But would he be happy being stuck back in a podunk town, with no bright city lights and glory on the horizon?
Boston was big, but New York was massive. Would she be happy living as a speck of dust in an anonymous pile? She pushed the blanket off her legs, feeling claustrophobic and out of control. Sitting on the cusp of change sent ants crawling under her skin. She needed to leave.
“Thanks for the talk, hun. I miss you, ya know? Would you mind dropping me back home? I just need some alone time.”
A crease folded between Angel’s brows as she searched Chelsea’s face. “Sure thing. We’ll look after your mama.”
Chelsea nodded. “Thanks.”
Maybe if she hid somewhere ... she’d never have to choose. Wow, she was screwed up. Hiding wasn’t her style. She’d always hit things head on.
Maybe that was exactly what she needed to do.
_____
Chelsea hustled to the server window at the sound of the bell letting her know meals were ready. Grey dominated her vision, arms spread wide and taut on the counter as his dirty silver gaze fixed on hers. Two weeks away and his effect on her had not diluted one bit. Her body responded, nipples puckering, core clenching. She had to remember to breathe.
“Table seven’s up. Welcome back.”
Uhn, that voice stoked the fire licking along her skin. She was so screwed. Angel was right. There was no choice.
Hit this head on.
“Thanks. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”
He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “We’ll talk after closing. I’ll give you a ride home.”
A shiver trickled down her back.
“Great. I look forward to it.”
Pushing back, he kept his eyes on her as she collected the plates.
The dishes wobbled in her arms. Gulping against a dry throat, she tottered off on liquid legs. Lord, getting through this night without self-combusting was going to be a challenge if she had to see him at the window every time.
Two hours later, she was proven right when she ached all over, not from the work, but from wanting to go to him, her body priming itself every time their eyes clashed.
“You seem nervous. What is going on?” Dane intercepted Chelsea on her way to the bar.
“I’m absolutely fine. And loving my new boots, thank you. Did I say thank you?” She loaded a cold carafe of water onto a tray.
“Only fifty times.”
She fumbled, trying to stack glasses for her table. “Good, good. Let me know when you want to go to the spa and I’ll book it in, ‘kay?”
“You don’t owe me the spa, babe.”
“I want to do this, Dane. I never should’ve agreed to that stupid bet in the first place.”
He shrugged. “It’s your wallet. So, what actually happened after your drunken night of shame?”
She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed at his dig. “Grey was a complete gentleman. He told me he held my hair back while I defiled an ice bucket. Thankfully, I don’t remember.”
“I know all that already. Grey was tight-lipped about the rest. I know there’s more, babe, don’t bother denying it. You can’t wake up next to that without wanting a taste.”
“We may have seen each other partially naked.”
“Partially?”
“Grey was in the buff. I still had panties.”
“Oh, be still my heart. Please tell me he’s all that I think he is.”
“He is, but I freaked, and he left before we got to the best part.”
Dane clutched at his chest as if he was having a heart attack. “You kill me, woman. What is wrong with you!?”
“Dane, stop holding her up, she’s got tables to serve.” Jenna rolled her eyes at Dane’s dramatics as she stalked past on a mission to the kitchen.
“Yes, Jenna, my love.” He called out before leaning into Chelsea. “What is hiding inside that bun, I’d so love to know?”
“It’s where she stores her tips.”
“I heard that.”
“Love you, hun.” She grinned at Jenna, blowing her a kiss.
“So, are you together now?”
“Not exactly.” She saw one of her customers waving her over. “I gotta go, I’m being summoned.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Maybe.” She raised an eyebrow as she left him behind. “Go answer the phone.”
“You’re going to leave me hanging, aren’t you? Cruel, cruel woman.”
Beau gave her strange looks every time she slurped down a cool water to quench her dry mouth. The extra tips were a bonus. She’d never done so well. Apparently, the customers liked their servers ready to go. She hoped she hadn’t given out any inappropriate signals, although there had been a couple of napkins with scribbled phone numbers. Lord, was it that obvious how desperate she was?
After the final parties left, she got to work bussing tables, Jenna helping with the flatware while Chelsea took the dishes. Plates and silverware clashed together as they collected them, raising their voices in order to be heard.
“Some guy gave me tickets to the game on Valentine’s instead of a tip.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Who’s playing?” Chelsea took her loaded bus tub to the next table over, with Jenna trailing her.
“Celtics versus Bucks.”
The soft music drifting from the overhead speakers changed to a pumping rock beat to get everyone fired up for the cleanup. She didn’t need the beat to get pumped, she’d been hyped all night.
“How many tickets did you get?”
“Four.”
“Tickets to what?” Dane came over, wheeling a bus cart.
“The basketball. Would you like to come?”
He recoiled, screwing up his face. “Ew. No, thanks.” Smoothing his fingers over his eyebrows, he regained his composure. “I only watch sports if the uniforms consist of tight pants.”
“What about you, Chelsea?”
A game at the Fleet Center? Possibly her last unless she came to visit. Yeah, she’d be in that. “Sounds great. I have the night off, for a change, and I don’t have any plans.”
Jenna smiled like Chelsea had never seen her smile before. “Okay. That’s all the tickets.”
Wait, what? “Who else is coming?”
“Grey said he was interested, but he wanted me to ask you too.”
Did he, now?
“That’s my boy,” Dane chirped. “Who’s the fourth?”
“Hannah loves basketball. I thought maybe Ch
elsea could ask if she wants to come?”
Chelsea inclined her head and hummed. Hannah? Yeah, there was definitely something going on between those two. “Sure, I can do that. Can I give her your number in case she needs details I don’t have?” Because I’m pretty darn sure she’d kill for it.
“Mm hm. That’s fine.” The words stuttered from Jenna’s throat.
“Great.”
Well, that’s a gentle shove in the right direction for Jenna and Hannah. Now, what was she going to do about the cowboy in the kitchen? Chelsea’s smile was all caddywonked.
Valentine’s Day with Greyson and friends …
Was this supposed to be a double date?
_____
Placing her hands against the vents in Greyson’s pickup, she rubbed them together to stop the insistent tremble. The cold wasn’t the only culprit. Being alone with him and the anticipatory ambience had her nerves jittering. He’d walked her out of the restaurant, holding her hand, and now, he reached for her again, tugging her hand until it rested on his thigh.
That was not helping, at all.
“How is your mama?”
“She’s great. Same as always.” Chelsea bit her lips, fire coursing up her arm from where they touched.
“You’re quiet tonight.”
“Last time we saw each other, we were naked.” The thought fired from her mouth without her thinking if it was a good idea to bring that up.
“I was. You weren’t.” He sent her a heated look, clearly remembering every detail of that night.
She swallowed and licked her lips. “A pair of lacy panties hardly constitutes clothing, Grey.”
“Tell that to my cock.”
Oh, damn. He just threw her control out the window. Fuck, he looked sexy as that word came—
Oops, lost my train of thought.
Her fingers flexed, aware that they were a mere two inches from said cock. “I would, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“He is perfectly tuned in to you. Hell, he’d hang on every damn word.”
She smirked. This conversation had just ventured into the ridiculous. “Are we talking about your cock like he’s a separate entity with a name and birth certificate?”
“No, he’s all me, sweetheart. Feel free to give him a name, though. I’d like to hear your suggestions.”