“What? The driver yesterday seemed normal enough to me.”
“Well, something about him freaked me the hell out all day long. And, like I said, I didn’t want to wake you, so I carried you inside. You still didn’t wake up. You must have been so exhausted. I didn’t know what else to do, so I put you in my room. Sorry. I wrote you the Post-it note hoping you wouldn’t feel too terrified when you woke up.”
I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. All of that was the truth—right? Ten minutes ago, my motives for keeping her here with me in this house seemed justified. Suddenly I wasn’t as sure.
She bit down hesitantly on her bottom lip, working it between her teeth, and I could tell she was trying to decide if my reasoning was acceptable.
“Okay,” she finally decided. “But next time, wake me up and ask me.”
“I couldn’t ask you in front of him.” I knew I was being weird, paranoid. For all I knew that guy yesterday hadn’t worked for Doug or been some evil rapist. And even if he had, why was I trying to protect her?
She stared at me hard. “I need to go. But before I do, what do you think about what Abe said? About shadowing him? It can’t hurt, I suppose. You’d have to be willing to spend the next two months in Tacoma, though. You’ll have to be there for the hiring, training, and opening phases that follow anyway. Usually, the whole process takes four to six months. We talked some about this before, I know, but I never asked how you felt about it all.”
“I don’t have a car. How’s that going to work?”
“We can get you a company car. Hell, I’ve got an unused food truck—I used to use as a ‘barista to-go truck’—back in the day. It’s just sitting in the parking garage of my apartment building.”
An unexpected smile crept over my lips. “I could get into driving around a food truck.” If only my friends from high school could see me now.
“Good. That can be a temporary solution. I need to get going.”
Not only had the urge to kiss her just crossed my mind, but suddenly I didn’t want her to go. What the hell was wrong with me?
But I didn’t do anything to prolong her staying here with me. Just like last night, when I’d carried her upstairs to my room, I hadn’t done anything to suggest that I cared.
I’d left her shoes on when the nice thing would have been to take them off. I’d left her on top of the covers when I could have tucked her in. Even the Post-it note on her forehead—something I would have done to one of my college buddies as a joke—was my way of trying to show her this was completely platonic.
This was completely platonic, right?
Then why, as I stood on my front porch, giving her a small awkward wave, did I feel so off?
I couldn’t even place my finger on what this feeling was.
***
“No,” Kitty groaned, adjusting her sunglasses. “I will not go with you to one of the meetings.”
“But you drank yesterday. And the day before.” I was dressed and ready to walk out the door. It was Sunday, and my sponsor was sitting, waiting for me in her car out front. I needed Kitty to go with me. “I have so much shit on my plate right now with this Doug thing. I need to know you’re okay when I go to work each day.”
She splashed her feet into the kiddie pool she had set up on our back patio. After years of spending her summers lounging next to my parents’ pool, usually with a martini in hand and eight of her girl friends surrounding her, this had to be a poor substitute. At least she didn’t have a martini at the moment.
“I’m not going.”
I groaned in frustration.
“Maybe I’m not an alcoholic. Just because you are, and Mom and Dad have addiction issues, doesn’t mean I inherited the gene too.” She playfully kicked water in my direction.
I jumped back as the water hit my shoes. “Smile, Joe, you never smile anymore.”
Because this isn’t funny. “I smile all the time.”
“Not your Java Beans smile. I mean, your real smile.”
“They’re one in the same.”
“No, they aren’t.”
I rolled my eyes, shifting on my feet impatiently. “Are you coming or not?”
“Not.”
“Fine.” I reached for the door handle on our screen door.
“Hey, Joe,” Kitty called out to me, “you know what?”
I paused. “What?”
She smirked. “I saw your real smile on Friday. When you were eating lunch with Lana.”
I knew the exact moment she was referring to. “Shut up,” I muttered, yanking open the door with all my might before disappearing inside.
I couldn’t believe Kitty. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t taking this seriously. Did she not remember where she was a year ago? Severely underweight, letting whoever had a dick fuck her, living in some rat-infested apartment with people who didn’t care about her. Kitty was wrong—we’d inherited the same addiction gene.
I hurried through the house and out the front door. I walked toward Terry’s waiting Honda, ready to jump inside and depart my life for a couple of hours, but instead, I stopped in my tracks when I saw what was parked behind Terry.
A “barista to-go truck.”
The Java Bean’s logo was spray painted on the side, along with a menu, and sitting there in the driver’s seat was Lana. She gave me a small, hesitant wave. I put up one finger, meaning for her to wait one moment, so I could get rid of Terry first. I guess I was missing my meeting today. Probably not a good day to miss it, not when I felt so much frustration building inside me.
“Hey, Terry,” I said to my friend, hanging on her open window. “Something just came up with work.” I gestured to the barista truck behind us. “That’s my boss.”
“I see. On a Sunday? Well, shit, that’s annoying.”
Was it annoying?
Lana certainly had been inconveniencing my life lately, but none of that was really her fault. “I’ll see you next Sunday.”
“You call me if you need me, okay? Anytime. Day or night. I’m there. You call me before, not after. Remember that.”
“I’m good but okay.”
“I don’t know, Joe. You seem a little off to me.”
I inhaled slowly. “I’m fine.”
Terry gave me a small smile. She might be a little overbearing at times, but since I’d moved here, she really had always been there for me—anytime, day or night.
“I’ll give you a call mid-week and check in,” I said to reassure her I was fine.
“Thank you.”
She left after that, and I walked slowly toward Lana’s truck.
With a creek, she swung open her driver’s-side door, and hopped down from the height of her seat onto the pavement. With more force than I would have expected from a petite woman like Lana, she slammed shut the door to her truck.
After that, I don’t know what the fuck came over me. Maybe it was the drama with Kitty. Or my emotional state. Or maybe it was the fact that Lana looked rather good, rather normal, with her blond hair pulled up high in a ponytail, in jean shorts that showed off her sexy legs, and a plain white T-shirt that hugged the curves of her perfect breasts. But I wanted to fuck her. I wasn’t annoyed to see her. Only annoyed with myself. And I could feel something hot swelling up inside me. Something that had me feeling antsy as hell, standing on a cliff I wanted to jump off of, prickling in some sort of new anticipation.
This wasn’t going to end well.
CHAPTER 10
LANA
I knew the moment I hopped out of the truck that I probably shouldn’t have come. My motivation for bringing over the truck hadn’t been completely “employer/employee” innocent. I’d wanted to see Joe again. Even though I only just saw him yesterday, when I’d woken up in his bed, I couldn’t help myself and used this opportunity to see him again. I was quickly growing addicted to his company, to his intense, strange way, to his smile, his laugh, and the high I felt when I was around him.
“What are you doing here?”
he demanded.
He wasn’t pleased. He stared at me with hard, unwavering eyes.
Which kind of pissed me off because for all he knew, I was only trying to do a nice thing. Actually, wasn’t I? “Dropping off the truck. The temporary solution to the fact that you don’t have a car and I need you to have a car.”
“On a Sunday?” he pushed.
It seemed like Joe had twenty different shades to his personality and each day I met a new one. He was moody and pissy today. And if he was a woman, I would have bet money that it was that time of the month. But he wasn’t a woman, far from it, and so he had no excuse. I kind of wanted to shout, ‘On a motherfucking Sunday,’ back at him, but I refrained.
“Yes, on a Sunday,” I told him. “The one day of a week where I try to catch up on my laundry, or sleep, and instead I spent the morning getting an oil change and a tune-up on this thing,” I smacked the side of the truck with a little too much force, “for you.” I rubbed at my hand. Damn, that hurt.
“I’m not your charity case, Lana. I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for me.”
I swallowed down the lump that was trying to build in my throat. He had his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me, and he was not backing down.
“I’m not doing this for you,” I explained. “I’m doing it for me. I see something in you—someone to help me take my business to another level. To help me shoulder the burden that is threatening to pull me under. I’m not exactly sure what it is about you, other than a feeling in my gut I cannot shake, but that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m putting up with your bullshit. That’s why I’m taking this chance on you.”
My chest rose and fell, and my heart pounded as I waited on him to say something back to me, hopefully something that didn’t make me feel even more like a complete fool. Because that was how I felt right now—foolish.
“I’m only a barista,” he answered.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“I’m not your saving grace.”
“I’m just asking for a good employee. Maybe one who can show me a little more respect.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t trust me so easily.”
I closed my eyes for a second, grunting in frustration, because he had a serious problem letting me win this argument. He was pushing me, almost as if he wanted to see how far he could take this before I had no choice but to fire his ungrateful ass. I rubbed at my still tender hand and opened my eyes, ready to continue my verbal showdown with Joe.
But he surprised me when I noticed a tenderness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Let me see your hand.” I realized I was clutching the one that hurt in the palm of my good hand.
He stepped closer to me.
My heart went off like a wild animal. His nearness had way too much of an effect over me. I didn’t know if it was wise to let him get so close to me, especially when he smelled so good. It wasn’t cologne, just his natural manly scent.
He gestured again for my hand.
I was holding it captive, but I cautiously moved it in his direction. He took it in his warm and—surprisingly—gentle hands. The tips of his fingers massaged and squeezed over my knuckles and fingers as if he knew what he was doing, checking to see if all was okay. “Does any of this hurt?”
I felt numb and breathless as I answered, “Not really.”
“I don’t think anything’s broken, then.”
His fingers stopped moving, but he didn’t drop my hand, and I didn’t pull it from him, either. We both just stood there, trapped in each other’s gaze, technically holding hands, with neither of us making a move to break away.
Before things had a chance to get awkward, l started to say something. “Well, if you don’t want—” This job. This truck. I wasn’t entirely sure because whatever I’d been about to say went forgotten. My words were interrupted when his hands dropped their hold of my fingers and moved to my face. He held me in place while his mouth came to mine. It wasn’t a hard kiss or a rushed kiss . . . just unexpected. If anything, he was tentative in his approach, and gentle in contact. The same way he’d been gentle with my hand.
I stood dumbfounded, in utter shock, frozen, not kissing him back.
The neighborhood street he lived on was quiet and still. I think even the birds had stopped their chirping. It wasn’t as hot today, and a light breeze blew past us.
I felt every bit of that one-sided kiss. Electricity prickled across my lips, my skin, my nipples, my core. He pressed deeper against me, moving his soft, exploring lips to the corner of my mouth. But when I hadn’t responded still, with a sigh he started to pull away.
And that was when I came to life.
You know, it just blew my mind that this was happening, that he started it, that he even wanted to kiss me at all. I still didn’t know what to make of it. But, dammit, if I wasn’t going to grab this bull by the fucking horns.
I grabbed the front of his T-shirt, balling my fists, pulling him back to me. If my hand still hurt, I didn’t feel it. If I was worried about the repercussions of this action, I didn’t show it. I only felt the sweet, soft rush of his lips connecting with my lips once more, this time with even more confidence.
I sucked in a breath as he quickly deepened our kiss, parting my lips, his tongue seeking out my tongue. Exhilarating tingles ripped through me as I tasted him. He tasted like coffee and cream, both sweet and bitter. Time stood still as we made out there in the shade of my barista truck for God knows how long. He kissed with the experience I lacked, taking control, his fingers exploring past my face, wandering down my neck, over my chest. He pressed his hard body flush against mine and backed me against my truck.
It was the best kiss of my life.
The only kiss worth mentioning.
Joe was hardly innocent in his motivation behind this kiss, though, evident by the rather large bulge in his pants I felt pressing against my stomach, and the way his exploring fingers eventually settled on the upper edge of my jean shorts. He stopped kissing me for a moment, to watch and judge my reaction as he slipped one of his hands past the edge of my shorts, straight down my pants, straight between my legs, straight to my clit.
In broad daylight, no less.
And with no embarrassment, hesitation, or restraint on his face.
He didn’t give a flying fuck that I was his boss. I guess he was the type of guy who knew he could have pretty much any woman he wanted. He knew he could stick his hand down my shorts, in the middle of the street, in the middle of a friendly neighborhood, and I wouldn’t complain or even attempt to push him away.
Hell, if anything, the moment it happened, I was desperate and thankful for it. His kiss alone had already sent me into a frenzy. I was wet, and needy, and wanton, and only about thirty seconds away from having the most intense orgasm of my life. And that was before he’d decided to put his hand down my shorts.
So it really surprised me when he next asked my permission. I mean, we’d already crossed a line we couldn’t uncross. His hand was already there. But I found it rather sweet when he asked, “Should I stop?”
He wasn’t baiting me. He seemed to genuinely want to know. I knew if I told him to stop, he’d immediately back away. But I didn’t want that. So, for as terrified as I was, and for as thrilled as I was, I shook my head no.
That was his green light. The finger he had pressed against me started to move. It felt amazing. Sucking in a gasp, I looked to my right and then my left. No one was outside, but that didn’t mean some old lady wasn’t peeking through her blinds. As much as my fear of being watched threatened to ruin this, the feeling that Joe provoked between my legs easily trumped everything else.
He moved with experience.
And after maybe a minute of feeling him move against me, I was on the edge of falling apart. But I fought off the feeling because I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed that I was his boss and letting this happen. I was embarrassed because we were in public. I was embarrassed at how easy it was about to be
for him to get me off. Mostly, though, I was embarrassed because I’d never orgasmed with a man before. Not during sex. Not during foreplay. I’d gotten pretty good at coming solo. But this was different . . . and I wasn’t in control.
Joe was.
I didn’t want him to watch me. I didn’t want him to see as I fell apart.
But dammit, if I didn’t shatter for him right then and there just the same.
I came. Hard. He pushed a finger, then two, deep inside me like he knew the exact moment it would happen. I wanted to scream, and he must have sensed that. He hadn’t returned his lips to mine since he’d started touching me, but he slammed his mouth to mine now, stifling any noise I might have made.
Waves of tingles burst through my body—starting at his skillful hand’s point of contact, running across my stomach, through my breasts, and out to every point of my body. The glorious high continued as his fingers pumped faster. I closed my eyes and I just . . . enjoyed the moment. I kept my eyes closed even as the feelings he provoked reached their peak and then started to fade. I thought for a second that this would lead to more, so much more, but his fingers slowed.
I opened my eyes. He pulled his hand away, and his lips, and he took this big step backward, looking at me as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Dammit, it was over, and I was not ready to face reality. My heart rate had been heightened during the act, but now it was racing faster than a high-speed police chase. My cheeks burned from embarrassment. And worst of all, he wasn’t saying anything comforting. Hell, he wasn’t saying anything at all.
We stared at each other for a long moment.
“So, I’ll just get the keys to the truck for you, then,” I said, needing something to say to break the tension. I’d left them in the ignition. Was this what we’d decided? I couldn’t even think straight enough to remember.
“No, I don’t need the truck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse now. “I’ve been meaning to get a car for myself for months now. I’ll get one today. I’ll be in Tacoma tomorrow to meet Abe. You don’t need to come.”
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