The Bet

by D. K. Combs

  Which was exactly what he’d expected.

  She kept close to his side, flinching every time someone dropped a peanut on the floor from the nearby tables. The floor was littered with them.

  “This...is barbaric,” she said as rowdy shouts rose in the background. Her eyes widened, and then she was clinging to his side completely, obviously forgetting about her own reservations toward him. He put an arm around her once again. He definitely didn’t mind this at all.

  A pretty blonde woman came over to them.

  “Table for two?” she asked. He glanced down at Bristol, making sure she wasn’t going to make a run for it, and then nodded back at the blonde.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Right this way!” she chirped, picking up two menus, two cutlery sets, and a basket of bread. He came here often enough to recognize her, but he couldn’t place her name for the life of him.

  Soon enough, they were seated at a booth, the menus were set down, and then he had the pleasure of watching Bristol’s eyes scan the menu, lips pursed. The server came to take their drink, and then quickly brought them over.

  “They don’t serve lobster here, if that’s what you’re looking for,” he said, giving her a raised brow when she gave him a challenging look.

  “You brought me here on purpose,” she accused, setting the menu down.

  “Yeah, and I told you to be ready to go out on purpose. And I picked you up on purpose. So I don’t—”

  “Smartass,” she muttered, leaning back into the booth with her arms crossed over her chest. “You know they are throwing their food on the ground over there. And the floor looks like it hasn’t been swept in months.”

  “They’re just peanuts. Now pick up your menu and find something to order before I do it for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered, doing as he said. He already knew what he wanted to order—he got the same thing every time. Was she a burger person, a steak person, hot dog person?

  When she set down her menu, hands folded over it, her face was less than amused.

  “How often do you come here?”

  “Me? Every once in a while. My dad used to bring me here a lot. It was our favorite, and since they haven’t closed down yet, I haven’t stopped coming here.”

  She was silent for a moment, then she nodded slowly.

  “Where is your dad now?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, my dad died of a heart attack a while ago, and my mom ran off when I was young. It was just him and me for a long time.”

  “Oh—I’m so sorry, I know how—” She stopped talking, looking down at her water.

  “It’s not that big of a deal. It was his time, he was old. Spent his whole life working in the shop and taking care of me. At least we were there for each other when the time came.”

  “I’m glad you had that closure,” she said, looking down at her hands. “What happened after your mom left? He didn’t like, turn to drinking or anything?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Never even touched the stuff. If my mom had wanted to stay, she would have. He’s always wanted me to be happy, so I can only imagine that’s what he wanted for her as well. He was a really great guy.”

  And he had been. He knew how lucky he was to have had a dad that was so dedicated to his son and their future. Even through the heartbreak of losing his wife, he had still pulled through. He’d gone to all the baseball games, all the basketball games. He’d been there for everything he could.

  He focused on Bristol again, and noticed the look that had come over her face. She almost looked...solemn. Like she was lost at sea, almost.

  The waitress came to the table with a cheery smile, seeming to bring Bristol back to reality. He knew the kid—she had been here for two weeks and so far, every time he’d come here, he got her. As the kid opened up the notepad and looked at him, she drew back.

  “Hey! Long time no see,” the kid said. She had pale blonde hair and muddy brown eyes, and couldn’t be out of high school yet. “Weren’t you in here last week?

  “Yeah, I was. Nice to see you too,” he said, giving her a kind smile. She had obviously had a rough day, going by the frizzy hair and the splotches on her apron.

  “Well, what can I get for you today?”

  “I know what I want. Are you ready?” He raised a brow at Bristol, who was giving him a curious, calculative look. He frowned, then moved on. He would probably never be able to understand the way she thought. One second she was bossy, the next she was quiet. Or one second she was angry, and the next she was curious. Or one second she was hot as hell for him, and then—screw it. So far, once she’d gotten to that point, she’d never come back down from it.

  “I’m ready,” she said, looking at the waitress expectantly.

  “All right, what will you be having?”

  “The Greek Burger, medium rare, with a side of fries.” She handed the menu to the waitress, then looked expectantly at Noah.

  “I’ll take the Barn Bash’s Steak Platter. The normal,” he said.

  “You got it!”

  As she took off to place the order, he turned back to Bristol—and there was that same look on her face.

  The curious one, the frown, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  He wasn’t going to comment.

  No, he had questions for her.

  “How long have you been working for Roderick Rhodes?” he asked, reaching for his glass and taking a quick drink.

  Wherever she had been in her thoughts, she quickly came back to reality. “Oh, just about ten years, now. I started fresh out of college with an internship. Once I got my degree and had the actual skills to handle the workload, I moved up. About two years back, I hit Chief Executive Officer.”

  “That’s incredible,” he said, and meant it. She really was a powerful woman—and as much of a turn on as that was, he knew that’s not why he couldn’t resist her. That was just a perk. What man didn’t love turning a powerful, important, control-freak woman into a willing, pliant body?

  She didn’t say anything back and for a while, he just let it be. If she wanted to say something, she would. Right now, she was too busy looking around her. As he watched her take in all of the families sitting together, some of the tension left her shoulders.

  He literally watched the negativity slide out of her, and when she turned around to face him, she wasn’t frowning.

  “This place really is meant to look disgusting, isn’t it,” she said, tilting her head.

  “Yep. It’s called the Barn Bash for a reason. It’s been around since I was a kid and has always been like this. As gross as it looks, the food here is great.”

  She bit her lower lip, and then a smile crept over her pale face.

  “Well, I’m excited to try the burger—”

  He saw it coming before she did. Their waitress was behind her, talking to another family who had stopped her on her way to delivering their food. Just a few feet behind her, a man was preparing to leave.

  It happened before he could do anything about it.

  The man pushed back his chair, jostling the waitress. She tried to recover, but with her hand balancing the platter of food, she failed. The food almost went tipping onto the table in front of her, but when she tried to catch it, that only served to make the fall redirect itself—which just so happened to be right where Bristol was sitting.

  One second, she was smiling for the first time that night, and the next, a burger and meaty steak was sliding right onto her head.

  He stared.

  The food fell down around her head, olives and ranch sliding down her hair. She looked down at her lap, mouth wide open, at the steak that rested on top of her thighs.

  “Noah?”

  Desperate, mortified eyes looked at him for guidance, and his heart clenched, despite the laughter that tried to escape. He held it back, covering his mouth with his hand.

  “Oh, my god, I am so sorry—” The waitress, panicked and hands flapping
around, quickly reached for the steak and the hamburger remains. All Bristol did was sit there, her already pale face taking a deathly white turn, eyes locked with his but in a way that told him she had checked out.

  “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” he reassured her, reaching forward to take a ketchup covered olive off her cheek. People were starting to stare, and the longer she sat there, the more worried he became. She wasn’t doing anything.

  When her eyes left his, the desperation left her eyes, replaced with a hot, dangerous look.

  That’s when he started to fear for the waitress’s life.

  “Hey,” he said, standing up and putting his hands out to stop her from touching Bristol. He urged her away. He had to. The look Bristol was giving her said she wanted to ruin her life. “Why don’t you go get your manager, so that we can take care of this? Go collect your nerves.”

  “But she has food all over—”

  “Yeah, we know. It’s okay. Just go get your manager.” She hesitated, then saw the look on Bristol’s face and ran way, practically in tears.

  “Bristol,” he said, coming around with a napkin. He tried to get her attention, but she was still staring after the waitress, that creepy look in her eyes actually making him cringe. “Bristol, look at me.”

  Her eyes flipped to his.

  He cautiously reached up to wipe some of the sauce off her cheeks and forehead.

  “Killing people is bad,” he said firmly. “We don’t kill waitresses. It’s just food, okay? All of this will wash out.”

  “I’m pissed,” she whispered, eyes unblinking. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life. Not even seeing you outside the office the other day is as bad as this is.”

  “What was so embarrassing about seeing me there?” he asked, hoping to distract her. He flicked a few pieces of food off her hair, mostly olives and the sauce from her burger. There was a commotion from behind them but he ignored it.

  “You...had just fingered me the night before,” she said quietly, still checked-out, still pale.

  “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It wasn’t like you wanted that pervert to touch you, anyway.”

  “He catfished me.”

  He paused, frowning up at her. He’d missed a spot of ketchup on her nose and swiped it away.

  “When Madeline helped me set up Tinder, we found that profile and it said he was a professional, and the picture was of a guy in a suit. Completely different guy than who showed up. He catfished me,” she repeated.

  “Oh, Miss Priss,” he cooed, forcing himself to sound pitying when all he wanted to do was laugh. Of course, she would have a Tinder. Of course, she would get catfished. What wasn’t there that she hadn’t done? “That’s really disappointing, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, and some of that emotion came back—and thankfully, it wasn’t fury this time.

  He took an olive from her shoulder and leaned on one knee in front of her. When he held the olive out to her, the look on her face was priceless.

  “Bristol, would you do me the honor of taking my olive?”

  At first, he worried that he really had upset her. Her face contorted, and then her hands covered her mouth.

  Then she laughed.

  Horrible.

  Loudly.

  Embarrassingly.

  She just started laughing and didn’t stop until her forehead was leaning against his shoulder, and she was out of breath.

  “You’re an asshole,” she said, laughing still. He put an arm around her, hiding his smile in her hair, and then helped her stand.

  The manager came up to them as she was brushing off the rest of the food.

  “I am so sorry about this—the waitress will be reprimanded accordingly, and the meal is on us. I have a cook preparing a second order right now for you.”

  When he looked down at Bristol to see how she wanted to handle it, she just shook her head, not saying a thing.

  He knew what that meant. Knew just how big of a step she’d taken.

  She’d given him the control.

  “That girl started here just a little bit ago, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, we never should have had her on the floor—”

  “No, really. It’s fine. It happens to everyone, we aren’t mad, and she shouldn’t get into too much trouble. I saw it all happen, and it wasn’t like she did it on purpose. Right, Bristol?”

  She grudgingly nodded.

  “I think we’re just going to head home for the night,” Noah told the manager. The guy stood there, looking appropriately concerned.

  “We apologize for this,” the manager said, giving the two of them an imploring look. “Your next meal here is on us. Just ask for me the next time you come in, okay?”

  “You got it,” Noah said. With one last nod, he guided his poor, food-covered date out of the restaurant and into the cold air.

  After he helped her into the car, he came around to his side and climbed in, starting it.

  “You know,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m very proud of you for not ripping her to pieces.”

  “Yeah, well, I value my job. We don’t hire felons so I’d be shit out of luck.”

  “Did you really make a Tinder?” he asked, giving her a side glance.

  “Wait, what? How can you go from praising me for not killing someone, to asking if I had a Tinder? How are those two things related at all?”

  He shrugged. “They aren’t. So, did you seriously make a Tinder?”

  “Do I look like someone who has a Tinder?” she asked, glaring at him.

  “No, but then, that wasn’t the question. Do you seriously have a Tinder, Bristol?” He didn’t know why that amused him so much. Dating apps were common. He might not use them, but to think that Bristol did… He wanted to laugh.

  Not because it was pathetic, but because he just hadn’t expected it.

  Okay, maybe it was a little pathetic—she’d been catfished for Christ’s sake.

  “I’m not having this discussion with you,” she said, grunting.

  “Fine then. But for that, you’re coming to my place.”

  “Again! How is that related to the conversation we were just having? Take me home, damn it—I have to shower. I have ketchup in my freaking bra. There is no way I’m going to your place when I’m a walking food platter.”

  “You didn’t tell me if you really had one or not, so now you are being punished. Plus, I don’t want tonight to end on a bad note for you, so I’m making it up to you by preparing a two-course meal consisting of nachos and ice cream.”

  “That sounds so fancy,” she said drolly, letting her head fall back into the headrest. Despite how unamused she sounded, a glance in her direction revealed a smile creeping at the edges of her lips. “I really don’t have a say in the matter, do I?”

  “Not at all.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Don’t have to look so surprised,” he said as he helped her out of the car. As her clothing moved, she could feel the dried-up food separating from the threads of her sweater.

  The quaint little house had a wraparound porch, new tan siding, and all of the windows had the cutest little burgundy shutters. It was a two-story house, probably a three bedroom, and it actually wasn’t that bad of a place. Not anything she would have expected, at least.

  “My dad raised me here.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I just didn’t expect you to have a house. More like an apartment, you know, for bachelors.”

  He gave her a dubious look. “Suuure. You probably thought I lived in some crack house.”

  She was led up the driveway, past some neatly trimmed bushes, and in the backdoor. The mudroom was dark until he flipped on a light, and then she was faced with all sorts of leather jackets and boots.

  He must have noticed her staring, because he sighed and led her out of there after kicking off his boots. “Leather is the best for riding.”

  “Then you must ride a lot,�
�� she said, unable to help herself from taking in the kitchen. The countertops were a gorgeous tan marble, and the cupboards were a white oak style. All of the appliances were black stainless steel, and in the center of the kitchen was an island.

  The one thing she noticed, however, was all of the pictures. He guided her throughout the house, and as she followed, she saw frames filled, obviously of Noah and his dad. They lined the walls, the shelves, the stairway. She saw Noah from all stages of life—from a baby, with a beautiful, brunette woman and his father, to pictures of him as a toddler, a kid, and then a teen. She saw pictures of his dad, of their accomplishments together.

  His whole life was mapped out on the walls of this house, and she felt like an intruder.

  “That’s probably because you are…”

  The hand that touched her back immediately pushed the voice away, and she breathed a sigh of relief before focusing on the pictures again.

  How did he stand to have these memories on the wall, where he would see them every time he came home? Didn’t they hurt him? Didn’t they bother him?

  She hadn’t been able to keep pictures, not even of the good times. It had been too hard for her to see them every day, and eventually, she had packed them away.

  Bristol forced herself to look away from the pictures, to focus on Noah’s back as he led her up the stairs and to the door.

  “This is going to be super weird, but hear me out,” he said, pushing open the door. A bathroom. He’d led her to a bathroom. “Now, we both know ketchup isn’t fun to be caked in. If you want to shower, you can—there’s a lock on the door and you can borrow one of my shirts for the night. Or, if you want to have a snack for later, you can just chill downstairs and not get all the food off of you.”

  She peered into the bathroom, then looked at him. So far, nothing he had done gave her the heebie-jeebies. She wasn’t one to shower at people’s houses, but he hadn’t given her a choice in the matter of going home or coming here. The only thing she had left to do was gauge how much she trusted him, and if it was enough to actually shower at his house.

  It was a no-brainer.

  He’d cleaned her, calmed her down, and had practically rescued her at the restaurant. And walking through his home, seeing how normal he was, was enough for her.