Tough Going (Tough Love Book 2)

by Trixie More

  Marley smirked. “Gonna take more than a thank you to even us up, muchacha. You got gold with me,” Marley said, looking between Derrick and Allison. “For the record, I still don’t agree with this, but I’m gonna wait you out.” With that she left the kitchen, purposefully leaving them alone.

  “Are you OK?” she asked Derrick. His face held that placid, implacable look. “I want to talk with you, but …”

  “Go do your thing. Bang on the bar door when you come back.” He drew a deep breath and his chest rose and expanded, but he didn’t kiss her. She reached up and touched his jaw. “See you in a couple hours,” she murmured and then she brushed his mouth lightly, drawing back before this could eat into her timeline any further. “Be back soon,” she said and then she left.

  When she got to the van, she looked around. Er Ted was nowhere to be found. Where was he? Allison hurried down the block, wondering if there were some other van to be confused with hers. None to be found. She ran the other way, also no Ted. Where the hell had he gone? She checked the van, everything was still in there, nothing damaged or stolen. She checked her watch. She had exactly no time. Derrick was wearing black, but he was also wearing torn jeans. Marley was covered in food from head to toe and wearing a purple T-shirt that read, “I’m a cook. Bite me.” Allison got into the van and started it. She’d be doing this on her own again, counting on the one person she always counted on, herself.

  Derrick watched from behind the counter, with Marley, as the white van pulled away.

  “I should have gone with her.”

  “She didn’t ask you to,” replied Marley. “She’s got Fred anyway.”

  “Ted.”

  “Him, too.”

  “Shit,” Derrick said.

  “Don’ worry, little man. He’s no competition for you.”

  “No, he’s not, ’cause he’s out front.”

  Marley turned her attention to the window, and they both watched as Er Ted walked leisurely from left to right, hands in his pants pockets and his black bow tie open and hanging from his collar. He was across the street. Otherwise, Derrick might have bolted out and grabbed him. As it was, he went out to the sidewalk and called to him.

  “Ted!”

  Ted started and glanced over at Derrick.

  “Not me, buddy!” The guy called over and laughed. “What a bitch!” No mistake then. He wasn’t accidentally not in the van with Allison. Shit. She’d driven off without the guy and was headed out to whatever it was she was doing, all by herself. He returned to the shop, continuing into the kitchen where Marley was just putting on a clean apron.

  “Where’s she going?”

  Marley shrugged. “Beats me. Some fancy party for forty people, at some hotel.” She started running water into the sink. “All I know is they are eating some mighty fine food there tonight, and it’s going late because she’s got to cut and serve that crazy cake.” Marley shook her head. “She’s got to break it down and cut it up and plate it all. That’s one of the reasons she needed temp boy there, because who can assist those fancy rich people, get a meatball on their plate, while she’s doing that?”

  “I’m one of those rich people, Marley, and I can get a meatball onto a plate.”

  She looked at him in mock surprise. “You are?”

  “Are you sure you don’t know where she’s going?”

  Marley shook her head sadly. “I really don’t, Der. You know if I could, I would go right there and help her, but I gotta stay here and keep the shop open.”

  Derrick took out his phone. He texted Allison.

  I know what happened. Text me when you get there.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked out the door, heading a couple blocks over to a shop that sold men’s pants. Fifteen minutes later he was the proud owner of ninety-eight-dollar black slacks that didn’t quite fit him right. The clerk swore he was divine in them. Derrick thought the man would have called him divine if he’d been wearing muddy canvas work pants and a raincoat he’d filched from a garbage bin. Derrick crossed the busy avenue and checked his phone for the third time. No text. He dialed her number and let the phone ring. It went to voicemail.

  “Allie, I know you’re busy but I’ve got some black pants, I’m ready to come help, just tell me where you are.”

  Calling her apartment and trying to reach Dorothy, didn’t work either. He went into the shop and sat down, in case she called Marley or called him. He had a sinking feeling that Allison wouldn’t call anyone.

  Disaster. That’s what Allison would have thought if she had time to think. As it was, she barely got the food set up in time. The display looked great, and she’d carefully planned which items to load into the chafing dishes first, so the hot food was actually hot when the group, who had been attending some kind of conference-style meeting, emerged from the ballroom at the hotel to come and seek out the food. The space, a wide carpeted area, outside a group of conference rooms, allowed light from the large three-story sweep of windows to filter in. There were tables of slightly different heights, creating a pleasing effect. Front and center was a square table where the triple-tier cake sat. She had hurried around, getting the hot food up first, then the chilled food, the accouterments and then the cake. She placed the paper goods and utensils out. The hotel had provided a bar set up, so no worries for her around beverages and that was a good thing. She spent the evening rushing between serving guests, refilling the dishes and praying that the hot food would stay hot.

  When the line for food finally tapered off, Allison set off to track down the person she’d been told would be giving her the check for the evening’s food. She peeked inside the conference room. A man in a sweater vest and khakis looked up. His broad face was slightly florid, his nose wide, eyes small behind glasses that he’d pushed to the end of his nose. He looked very serious. A plate of half-eaten food sat next to him, at what was obviously the check-in table for the event.

  “Yes?”

  “Um, I’m the caterer,” Allison said. It didn’t get a big happy face from him.

  “A bit under-staffed tonight, wouldn’t you say?” He looked at her over the dark frames of his glasses, and she felt a lot like a child being called before the principal.

  “That’s true, sir. The person who was to come with me called out at the last minute.”

  “Nobody to call to take their place?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Um, it was very last minute.” She stopped short of telling him that the man practically leaped out of the passenger seat and ran away screaming. Mentioning that she’d been less than kind to the guy before he left her in the lurch was also not a good idea.

  “Well, you muddled through.”

  Allison figured it was as good a time as any to hand her bill to him. “Are you the person I should give the invoice to?”

  He extended his hand, read the slip and, taking a pen from the table, he drew a line through one of the numbers. He wrote out a check, took the top copy and handed the receipt and check to her. She looked at the receipt. He’d cut the gratuity. She was too ashamed to say anything.

  “I’ll go serve the cake now. Thank you so much for understanding,” Allison whispered.

  “Oh, I don’t understand, Miss. But I also have no choice.”

  Allison kept her chin high and nodded. Just so. She left to finish out this mess of a day.

  Her luck improved slightly, she talked one of the bartenders into helping her find a place to cut and plate the cake. By ten o’clock the last of the conference attendees had waved sloppily and headed off to their rooms. Allison shared the last of the insanely good cake with the bartenders. They stood companionably at the little makeshift bar, moaning over their cake and not talking. By eleven, she had everything in the van and was starting the engine. That’s when she saw the text from Derrick. It was too late now, so she headed back to the shop to unload. All she could say was, TGIF. She didn’t have it in her to deliver early morning bagels tomorrow.

  She pulled the van all t
he way into the alley. By the time she got out, Derrick was there, standing by the back door of Mastrelo’s, massive biceps bulging, arms folded across his chest, dark eyebrows pulled down. He was a thunderous god tonight.

  Allison walked to the back of the van and opened the doors, hopped in and started piling the gear near the doors. Derrick approached then, gathering up the chafing dishes and detritus, carrying it into her kitchen. They worked silently until everything had been unloaded. She handed over the keys for him to move the van to the street, while she started filling the sink. Marley had left hours ago. Behind her, Allison heard the alleyway door shut. Construction god was back, and from his silence, he wasn’t happy. Well, she wasn’t very happy either. She didn’t think she’d done a bad job, but her customer’s criticism still stung, making her feel angry and small. She hadn’t been a very smart businesswoman. Having someone else with her tonight had been important, and she’d blown it. Which reminded her that Derrick had tried to be there. Again. He’d tried to help her, and now she felt just as indebted as if she had actually asked him to help. Since he was still dressed all in black and he was stone-cold sober, she knew if she had texted even as late as an hour ago, he would have been there. She shut off the water and turned to face him, resting her butt against the sink. Lord, she was sick and tired of running everything.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His face, placid of course, didn’t change, and that made her angrier. He leaned back against the alley door, staring at her across the space of her kitchen, arms once again folded over his chest.

  “For what?” he asked.

  She looked at him. He looked tired too.

  “It’s been a long day, Allison. What are you sorry for?”

  Fuck that shit. It had been a long day for her too. “I’m sorry you waited for me.”

  His eyes narrowed. The sallow skin and purple bruising on his jaw standing out against his night beard, his skin suddenly paler. “Are you sorry I’m here now?”

  Looking at him, she wondered why it was he seemed so much more adult than her? She looked down and shook her head. “No.” Weakling! She was a jerk to admit that. She didn’t need a man who wanted to be there for her. Nobody could accomplish that, and him wanting to, was just one more burden on her. She’d have to be kind, to try to meet his needs, assure him it was OK when he failed, as he most certainly would. Her customers, her one employee, her crazy-ass mortgage holder who, oh, by the way, was his grandfather, all needed something from her. No. She couldn’t please them all, and she didn’t want to.

  She turned back to the sink.

  “Talk to me, what happened?” he asked.

  Allison lost it.

  “Nothing happened! Er, Er, Er, Ted just pulled a disappearing act and I finished the gig without him. So typical, such a predictable male thing, so not anything to write home about or tell a story about. OK? OK?” She stamped her foot a bit at that, flinging utensils into the sink, and the observer in her called out her own adolescent behavior. She was picking a fight, trying to drive this man away. In his bed, she’d told herself she was all in, but tonight he’d upped the ante. He’d waited for her, and she hadn’t answered him; another thing she’d done wrong. She couldn’t live up to him. She didn’t have what it took to call his bet. She would not be able to keep him. Inside, she howled in frustration.

  Behind her, he was moving closer. She didn’t hear him do it, couldn’t see him, but she knew it all the same. When he spoke, his voice confirmed her guess.

  “So predictably what?” His voice was dangerous and low.

  She didn’t want to answer, wanted to call back the stupid words. Men didn’t leave her. People left her. Sometimes they left for a few hours when she needed them most, sometimes they left for New Mexico and never came back. Blaming it on gender was dumb, and she knew it, but oh, she was in a stubborn mood.

  “You heard me.”

  “You said male.”

  “That’s right, big boy. Male. As in dude’s never follow through, they hit the road when the going gets tough, can’t be trusted.” She knew she had gone too far, knew that none of that described Derrick, but she was in no mood to correct herself. She had spoken. Long live she.

  His hand fell on her shoulder, hard and hot. It should have been some other part of him. Then he yanked her around to face him. Yanked her! Around. The fucking nerve of the man. The fucking arrogance of him. Yank her, in her own shop. After the day she’d had?

  She planted both hands on the granite slab that passed for a chest on this man and shoved him away, hard. “Don’t you ever do that to me.”

  He was on her so fast, it made her head spin. One minute she was at the sink and the next minute she was up against the wall, her wrists, together in one of his hands, being lifted up above her head, his other hand against the wall beside her face.

  “Do what, Allison? Try to help you? Buy a pair of pants and sit here all night just in case you need me? Or maybe you don’t want me to call you on your bullshit, but all the other stuff is fine. You just want me to eat your pussy and take out your trash, sister? Is that it?” He tipped his head, trying to get her to look him in the eye. A fire started, low in her belly, her center swelling, getting ready for him even as she tried to understand exactly how they’d gotten to here. She kicked at him, catching him in the shin with the toe of her boot.

  “Shit,” he hissed even as she yelled.

  “Maybe so!” She gave one more vicious kick but he twisted to avoid it, and then his hips slammed into hers, imprisoning her against the wall. She wasn’t scared though, she wanted a good fight. Nobody ever gave her a good fight.

  “Not you, Allison. Not you.” The words slid into her adrenaline fogged brain. It was all fight up in there. There wasn’t a single fiber of her being that wanted to run. She wanted to push him. Push him, bite him and fuck his brains out. What she wanted him to do, she had no idea.

  “You hear me?” he asked. She rolled her head from side to side.

  “Let me go.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “You want me to let you go?” he asked. She nodded fiercely, but in her heart, she wanted something different—a different ending for the two of them. Something closer to the afternoon at his loft, something closer to the night he drove her father home.

  “Yes, you bastard. Let me go.”

  He leaned down closer. “No.”

  “No? Fucking no?” She fought harder. He didn’t get to say no. He got to leave.

  His face was losing its paleness, its anger. A flush was rising over his neck, his cheekbones high and darkened, his pupils were wide, so wide, his nostrils flared and that mouth, that sexy, stubborn, irresistible mouth hovered inches from hers. He brushed her neck with his lips, and she struggled side to side, without much ferocity, a weak offering and certainly not her best let-me-go flail. She stilled, her chest heaving and he brushed her neck again. Dimly, she realized he was speaking again.

  “Not you, Allison. Anyone but you. No fucking way.”

  She pressed her cheek to the wall, offering him her neck and not looking him in the eyes. He bit her, and she shivered. “Not me, what?”

  “You see me. Not all the time, Allison, but sometimes, when she’s not here.”

  “Who, Marley?”

  He smiled against her neck. “I can’t believe I said that. Your boss lady self.”

  “What? She’s always here. I’m her. She’s me.”

  Derrick shook his head and then opened his mouth wide, sucking on her neck. Allison gasped, the feeling so urgent, the need between her legs rising. Why was he still here? “She’s part of you, and I love her, but she’s not all of you.”

  He loved her? He loved her bossy side? Who was this man? “I see you, no matter if I’m bossy or not,” she said back.

  “Not true. You don’t see anything then. You’re too busy with your checklists and all the things you have to do. I get that. But there are moments when you see me, see who I am, and I won’t let you deny that. You don’t get to r
educe me to one of them.” He was moving lower now, kissing her collarbones, pushing her vest off her shoulders, unbuttoning her blouse, all the while he kissed and re-kissed every inch of her flesh. She felt the warmth of his mouth, felt the tingling readiness between her legs, felt her nipples harden against her bra but his calloused fingers made short work of that garment and then there was only cold air against her naked breasts. He groaned, and her nipples puckered harder. She wasn’t sure how they started fighting, and she was even less sure how they wound up with her naked from the waist up. His hands grabbed her by the hips and started to push, she bent her knees and then his hands were on her rib cage, his thumbs rubbing her nipples and then they were on the top of her head, gently but firmly pressing her to her knees.

  “Who do you think I am, Allison? Do you think I’m some lackey who eats you when you want it, washes your dishes when it suits you, takes out your trash? Someone biddable, replaceable? Someone you can dictate to?” She was shaking her head, no, she didn’t think any of that.

  “Then what, Allison?” She placed her hands on his hips, felt the rise of his ass, the hardness of his hip bones, the size, and heat of him. He gave her a little shake. She reached for the button on his pants, and he stroked her head. “Tell me. That mouth of yours never hesitates to say a damn thing. Answer me.” This time, he didn’t say please. A bit of a laugh rose up inside her, and she bit her cheek.

  She pressed the button on his black pants free. If she took him in her mouth, would that end this? She slid a glance up at his face. He was stern and lust dazed. He smoothed his hand across her scalp, this time letting his palm cup the back of her head. He gave her head a little shake, sort of turning it from side to side. She kept her mouth shut. She knew what he wanted now. She knelt on the tile, his erection swelling before her eyes.

  She looked up at him fully this time, tipping her head to the side. “If I give you this, it’s a gift,” she said.