“I’m here, and I’ve brought coffee!” she all but sings as she comes around the counter to put her purse away in the drawer.
“You are a savior. For real.”
“Well, you know. I do what I can.”
I take a sip of the steaming drink and practically purr. “Damn, that’s so freaking good.”
“I swear to God, Sloane, I have never seen anyone drink coffee and enjoy it as much as you do, and I’ve worked in a café for a long time. It’s like caffeine is orgasmic to you.”
I nearly choke at the abrupt honesty of her words. Thank goodness the shop is empty at the moment. “You cannot say things like that when we have customers. We’ve talked about this.”
“Oh come on, that one wasn’t even that bad. I’ve said worse things before.”
I roll my eyes and smirk. “Yeah, I know.”
Yesterday, while Immy helped an elderly lady bring a large mirror to the counter, a little kid ran out from behind an aisle, causing her to nearly drop it. I was on my way to help her when she exclaimed, “Christ on a cracker kid, slow your freaking roll!” That was fun to explain to his mother.
“You sound just like Chloe when you talk like that. Very adult-like.”
In spite of my crappy week, I chuckle. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you. I feel like each time I do an adult thing correctly, I should be rewarded. Like hey, I did the laundry today, where’s my cookie?”
Immy takes her cup and tosses the empty tray into the trash. “Look, I threw out my garage. Gold Star added to my chart!”
“Right! You know exactly what I mean.”
“I got you. So, in all seriousness, why are you so tired all the time? Like, I’m not saying you look like a zombie or anything, but if I offered to fill your veins with caffeine, you would so take me up on that.”
“They can do that?”
“Unreal. I bet you’re so tired all the time from staying up too late with the hubby, am I right?” Immy makes obscene gestures with her hands and mouth, and I swat at her as three customers enter the shop.
After greeting them, we return to our conversation in hushed voices. “No late nights in that absurd way. Just a lot on my mind, I guess. It’s hard to shut it all off sometimes.”
She turned serious which didn’t suit her in the slightest. “I can’t image going through what you did would be easy for anyone. If you ask me, I think you’re handling everything like a champ.”
When Chloe and I spoke about having Immy with me a few days a week, she loved the idea. She’d told me Immy’s upbeat personality was exactly what I need to be around all day. She wasn’t wrong either. I love how Immy lightens everything she gets close to. She reminds me a lot of how I used to be in my old life. I miss that Sloane.
Try as I might, though, I can’t bury this one thing that has been pestering me since we first walked into Revamped.
“Immy, if I ask you something personal, do you promise you won’t get offended? Or quit and sue me for workplace harassment?”
“Oh, this is going to be a good one.” She drags the stool I keep tucked in behind the counter over toward me and makes herself comfortable. “Okay, I’m ready. Fire away.”
Twisting my mouth back and forth, I chew over my words and then decide the direct approach is probably the best one for this situation. “Are you gay?”
“Am I fired if I say yes?”
“God no!” Oh my goodness, I knew I shouldn’t have asked her that question. I’m so crossing a line! I really shouldn’t be allowed to speak to other human beings.
“Then no.”
“No?”
“No. Was that seriously your question? I thought it would have been way more interesting. I mean, did you not see me check out those three guys that came in here yesterday shopping for the one dude’s mom? Hello! I dropped the pen so one of them would bend over for crying out loud.”
“Yeah, which, by the way, was extremely obvious and you can’t do that to our customers, sexy or not. But, I just thought maybe you…you know, played for both teams, I guess.”
Immy laughs so loudly the customers in the back glance toward us like we’re insane. “Oh God, that’s good. Both teams.” She bounces off the stool and takes another drink from her coffee cup all the while still shaking her head and chuckling.
“Well, then why did you always hit on Sawyer when she went into Chloe’s?” I blame my word-vomit on the lack of sleep and confusion. I can’t think of another explanation for this conversation that, for some reason, I continue to make worse.
“I never hit on Sawyer when she came in.” Her eyes become misty and I instantly feel like such jerk for bringing it up. It’s just been gnawing at me, and I wanted to know.
“I’m sorry, Immy. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve or something. It’s just that she would come back here and…”
“And what? Say that the chick who works at Chloe’s was flirting with her?”
“No, not like it was a bad thing.” I chuckle as I remember her words. “She actually said once that you were so adorable it made her think about switching teams.”
To my relief, she giggles and doesn’t seem the least bit upset with me. “For the record, I’m not gay and I wasn’t flirting with her. Not intentionally anyway. She always had this quality to her that made me want to know more about her, that’s all. Like she was an old soul I used to know on some level. I really liked when she came in and chatted.”
“Well, I’m sorry I asked anyway. It was stupid of me. Forget I even said anything.”
Immy slides the stool back to its place under the counter. “No worries. Just make your questions more interesting next time.” She winks and smiles at me, then starts to stroll toward the customers near the back when she spins toward me. “Oh, I wasn’t flirting with you just now. I was only being nice. Don’t want you getting confused. Now scamper to the back and get some work done. I need a ride home tonight if that’s okay.”
I laugh and shake my head, calling out to her after she disappears behind a large cabinet. “We’ll leave at six.”
The next few hours are more productive than I’ve been in months. I’ve completed two orders and began to make a list of some supplies I’ll need to pick up from the craft store I deal with in the next town.
During my designs, I used to never allow my mind to drift from my current project. I used to love getting lost in something new I was designing. I thrill on taking broken pieces of garbage and making them beautiful again, giving life back. Today is different. My mind is the enemy. I keep replaying the way Owen stared right through me, the look in his heated eyes full of rage. His roughness, new and chilling. A stranger had touched me. It felt wrong, dirty. From the first kiss we shared on his couch that lead into way more than I ever expected, he’d always been nothing but a gentleman with me. Sometimes, I had to beg him to go harder, faster, needing to feel more of him. He’d whisper in my ear, asking if I was okay. The night he was rough completely contrasted every other night we’ve shared.
When his arms enclosed around my waist while I was cooking, for the flutter of a heartbeat, I thought my husband had returned. Flashes of our future played before me like a movie. Going to counseling together until our marriage was bulletproof, celebrating anniversaries and birthdays with romantic candlelit dinners, watching Noah grow into the amazing man I know he’ll be, Owen singing lullabies to my growing belly.
Without warning, the future faded away into the night when he gripped my hips, fingertips digging into my skin so hard I thought for sure he’d leave bruises.
The door to my office opens, the fresh breeze washing away wicked memories. Immy waltzes through, a dark store in the background.
“Oh no, what time is it?”
“It’s just past seven. We had a few stragglers, so I let them browse. When they left I locked up.”
“Thanks for taking care of that for me, Immy. I didn’t even realize the time. I hope I didn’t ruin any plans you had tonight.”
She
swats at the air and picks up one of the finished pieces from today to examine it. “Nah, just a smokin’ hot date with my jammy-jams and Netflix. This piece turned out really great by the way.”
I stand and pack a few things into my bags. “Thanks, I think Mrs. Hutchinson will like it. If you don’t have any other plans besides a TV date, do you want to tag along with me to the craft store? I just need to grab a few things so I won’t be long. I’d love some company.”
Immy throws her hands in the air and squeals. “Oh shit, it’s a Girls Night! Just when I thought my night of Fuller House couldn’t get any better, I get invited to a craft store. I mean, I had no idea when I woke up this morning this day was going to take such a turn.” The sarcasm just drips off her.
“Fuller House, huh? Were you even alive when the original Full House aired?”
“Hey, I watched all the reruns, and the show is still just as awesome!”
I shoulder my bag and head to the counter to make sure the cash register and drawers are all locked. I set my cell phone down to grab the keys out of the drawer. “Alright, let’s go Stephanie Tanner.”
“Right behind you, Deej.”
The sun lowers behind tall buildings in the distance as we head back to town after hitting up the craft store. There’s no free space in my truck. I hit the mother of all sales and was able to get everything I’ll need for my next order and a few other things I found on clearance. We stopped for dinner afterward. Shopping really does work up an appetite, even if it’s the boring shopping. Not boring for me, I could spend hours in craft stores, but for Immy as she complained most of the time.
I’m a good boss friend though, and I bought her dinner to make up for her boredom. She had a lovely time, ensuring me our dinner was not considered a date, nor was she flirting with me when she asked me to pass her the salt. She’ll never let me live that down. I really should have never mentioned anything that Sawyer told me.
Singing along to Spice Girls in my car, I’m impressed Immy actually knows all the words.
“Like how old do you think I am, Grandma? Of course, I know the words to every song they have. It’s the Spice Girls.”
“I know I’m only older than you by a few years, but we just seem to come from completely different generations. I’m shocked is all.”
“Well, it wouldn’t feel that way if you immersed yourself into my generation instead of being stuck in yours. Like, get a Facebook account already! At the very least, get one set up for your store. You’re missing out on a vast marketing group.”
We stop talking to sing the chorus of “Wannabe.” “I should, I know, even my mom has Facebook. She literally calls all the time to update me.”
“Sloane! Come on, if your mom has to update you with Facebook news, that’s just embarrassing. I’m embarrassed to be in this car with you right now. I’m setting you up with an account this week. That’s my new job. Instead of sweeping when it’s quiet, I’m going to teach you how to post, tweet, and everything else.”
“You’re fired.”
She laughs as we sing the chorus again, and I signal to exit the freeway. A transport truck on my left suddenly veers toward me and cuts me off, barely missing my car. In a kneejerk reaction, I yank the steering wheel away from the truck and swerve onto the shoulder of the off-ramp. The tires clunk over a bump before I hit the brakes and skid to a stop. Immy lets out a gasp as I look behind me to see what the heck I just hit.
“Are you okay?” She looks shook up.
Immy nods and faces me, mouth hanging open. “Yeah, you?” I nod as well. “What the hell did you hit? I hope it wasn’t something living. That fucking truck seriously came out of nowhere!”
I look around, but I don’t think the trucker stopped to make sure we’re okay. More vehicles fly past us down the off-ramp.
“I’m going to get out to look at my tires. I think I might have a flat. You stay put.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Cautiously, I exit and round the vehicle to the passenger side, bending to inspect the tire. I’m no mechanic, but I can tell I won’t be able to drive this car now. Scanning the area, I spot a large piece of what looks like steel. Great.
Immy rolls down her window. “What’s the verdict, Boss Lady?”
“It’s flat. There’s no way I can still drive without damaging the rims. I’m gonna have to call for a tow truck. Could you pass me my bag, I need my phone.”
“Yeah sure.” Immy reaches into the backseat and hands over my bag.
I dig around inside but don’t see my phone anywhere. “Son of a bee. I left frickin’ my cell at the shop. Crap!”
“I think you would feel better if you swore.”
I stop digging to glare at her. “I don’t think vulgar language will make my phone appear. Pass me your phone please.”
Immy’s mouth twists, eyes widen, and I know her words before she speaks them. “The battery died.”
“Dammit, Immy. You and your damn need to Instagram your dinner!”
“Hey, Grandma, #foodporn is everything, and you would know that if you stopped spending all your free time in craft stores with your grandma friends. Social Media is your friend.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and look around.
“So, what are we going to do now?” Immy asks as she leans farther out of her window. “Should I get out?”
“No, we’re pulled over far enough, you should be fine.” I glance around, weighing my options. I could walk to a gas station, but I don’t know how dangerous that would be. A car slows next to ours, and the passenger window descends.
“Hey there, sugar. You okay?” The driver appears to be the only one in the car, a woman a little bit older than my mom reaches across the passenger seat.
“Yeah, I accidentally ran over a piece of metal or something. Would you actually happen to have a cell phone we could use to call for a tow?”
“Oh, no need, honey. I saw the whole thing and called the police already. I even gave them that asshole’s license plate number and the name of this trucking company!”
Immy snorts a laugh, from her position the woman can’t see her. “Is she going to run him down and make a citizen’s arrest, too?”
I swat at Immy, trying to ignore her, and respond to the sweet lady that stopped to help. “Oh, thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”
“No worry at all. Would you like me to pull over in front of you and wait until the police arrive?”
“That’s not necessary. I have my friend here with me. But thank you again for your help.”
“Okay now, young lady, I’ll be on my way, then. Have a safe night, y’all.” She waves, rolls up the window, and continues on her way.
Back inside the car, I press the button to turn on the emergency flashers and wait with Immy for the police to come.
A few minutes later, blue and red lights silently flash behind us.
Immy turns in her seat to look out the rear window. “Were the cops really necessary?”
“Um, no. No, they are not. But, I kind of feel safer since the sun has set, so I’m not going to complain. I’ll see if they can radio a tow truck for the car.”
When the police cruiser door opens, Immy and I both climb out of my car as well and walk toward the side of the road where an officer meets us.
“Evening. Looks like you’ve had a bit of car trouble. I’m Officer Jaxson Terrell,” he greets in a deep voice I didn’t expect. Even though the sun has nearly set, I notice his skin has a beautiful caramel complexion. He seems to be about my age, and, just before he steps in front of us, I catch the low growl Immy makes. “We’re responding to an accident that was reported. Are you two okay? Was anyone injured?”
“Thank you for coming. I was cut off by a truck and hit something on the shoulder of the road. My tire is wrecked and I’m not sure if there’s any other damage to the car. I would have called my husband but I don’t have my cell on me. Someone else reported this for us.”
The officer turns on the flashlig
ht in his hand and shines it toward the car, inspecting the damage.
Immy clutches onto my arm and breathes dramatically. “Oh lord, would you look at the ass on him!”
How could I ever think she was a lesbian? I’ve watched her flirt with so many guys today it should have never been a question.
I swat at her arm and try not to laugh, it only encourages her. “You cannot flirt with him, do you hear me, Imogen?”
“Whoa, full name. You must mean business, Boss Lady.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Terrel turns and signals at his cruiser, then the other door opens and another cop steps out.
“Hudson, come take a look at this, please.”
Hudson? No…it could be anyone with that last name. Hell, it could be his first name. It can’t be him.
My body flames when I turn to see Officer Nash Hudson strolling my way. Suddenly, the earth becomes unstable under my feet.
“Fuck.” The whispered word slips from my lips.
Beside me, Immy sucks in a breath. “Did you just swear? Oh my god, why? Are we going to jail?”
Nash approaches us with a crooked smile. “I’m going to have to personally start charging you for my services. You okay, Sloane?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, and it’s not my fault you’re the only police officer on the force.”
He chuckles, seemingly unaware of our current location considering how comfortable he appears.
His partner motions for Nash to examine my car. He excuses himself and passes by, his unmistakable scent trailing behind him.
The grasp Immy has on my arm tightens, nails practically digging into my arm. “How the hell do you know that delicious police officer, and can you please get him to handcuff me?”
My head tilts to the side as I stare at her, trying to understand how exactly her brain works. “Is this something you can turn off? Because you really should. And then get help. A lot of it.”
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus.”
I follow her line of vision toward the car to see both police officers bending over to inspect the tire, giving Immy a full view of their asses. Even I have to admit they seriously wear those uniforms well. I don’t know what it is about a man in a uniform. I know I’m not the only woman alive to think there’s just something about it. Owen has come home from work so many times full of grease in his mechanic’s clothes, and I just wanted to rip them right off his body. A man in a uniform is sexy as hell. But a man who isn’t afraid to get that uniform dirty? Now that’s my kind of guy. Some girls like the clean-shaven, well-dressed, white-collar type, and then there’s me.
Edges of Gone (The Gone Series Book 2) Page 12