by Vi Keeland
“But it’s okay for you to sleep in my bed?”
That comment seemed to anger him even more. “No, that’s not okay. That was a mistake.”
The question that had been on the tip of my tongue somehow slipped out against my better judgment. “What if I got another job? Would that change things?”
He seemed to be struggling with how to respond to that. I braced myself because I knew the answer to that question was a game changer. It would prove his true feelings once and for all.
Rush reached into his pocket for a cigarette before lighting up. It had seemed like he was making a conscious effort not to smoke up until I drove him to it just now.
His eyes almost looked pained when he said, “I like hanging out with you. But I’m not right for you, Gia.”
“Then the boss thing is just an excuse? It’s really not the reason you won’t date me.”
“It’s not the only issue, no. The issue is me…not you.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not you. It’s me. What an original line! I should put that in my sucky book.”
My little interrogation must have angered Rush more than I knew, because he was quiet the rest of the walk to the parking garage.
Once we got to the car and on the road, the silent treatment continued as he proceeded to just smoke the entire time.
I was mad at myself for bringing up the subject of our relationship. He’d made his intentions clear, and I had to accept that. But there was still the fact that I wasn’t sure if I fully believed he didn’t want more with me. He was clearly attracted to me and protective of me. Was he scared? Or just not interested? It didn’t matter. As soon as he’d pulled the old “it’s not you, it’s me,” I was done.
I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, so I was the first to speak.
“You said we were gonna play fortunately-unfortunately on the ride back.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood right now.”
Ignoring him, I said, “Okay…I’ll start. Fortunately, one of us doesn’t stay angry for very long and knows how to break the ice.”
He gave me side-eye and surprised me when he started to play along. “Unfortunately, Gia decided to break the ice by reminding me of this stupid game.” He shook his head and blew smoke out the window.
“Fortunately, Gia’s not sensitive, otherwise you calling her game stupid would have upset her.”
“Unfortunately, I think Gia is sensitive and takes certain things personally when she really shouldn’t.”
“Fortunately, Gia doesn’t have to be told twice, so you don’t have to worry about her inquiring about the status of our relationship anymore ever again.”
He lit up another cigarette before he said, “Unfortunately, I think that’s for the best.”
“Fortunately, I now understand that we are, in fact, just friends.”
His expression dampened. A few seconds passed before he responded with, “Unfortunately, I have to apologize for my actions that have led you to believe otherwise.”
“Fortunately—for you—I forgive you.”
“Unfortunately, this means I can’t sleep in your bed anymore, either.”
I admired his apology, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to stick it to him.
“Fortunately, now that you’ve made your feelings clear, this frees me up to accept the date I’ve been putting off with Rhys, the roof bartender.”
“Bring the kegs up to the rooftop bar,” I snapped at the shadow of a man passing by my office. The hall was dark, but I knew exactly who it was. The asshole had been on my radar ever since Gia dropped a bomb in the car on the way home from the City.
“Me?” Rhys took a step back into the doorway of the office. I didn’t bother to lift my head from the paperwork I had my nose buried in.
“Who the fuck else would I be talking to? Is there another person in the vicinity?” I still didn’t look up.
“Umm. Oak usually carries them upstairs. Those things weigh a hundred-sixty pounds.”
Of course, I knew exactly what they weighed, and I was pretty sure that the things outweighed his skinny ass. I looked up, my bloodshot eyes beaded with contempt. “Are you saying you’re incapable of performing your job?”
“Uh…no. No. I’ll…I’ll get them up there.” He continued to stand there, staring.
“Are you waiting for something?” I bit out. “Get to work.”
“Umm. Sure. Right. Yes, boss.” Even though he said that, when he saw me get up and head over to the door, the pansy-ass stayed frozen in place. For a heartbeat, when his eyes grew wide, and I thought he might shit his pants, I almost felt bad for the guy. Almost. Though that notion wore off before I slammed the door in the fucker’s face.
For the last three days, I’d managed to avoid Gia. I’d been planning a renovation of one of the rental properties I owned out here, and the permits finally came through from the town. While the demolition crew I hired ripped out the dated kitchen and back deck, I spent most of the days meeting subcontractors to get quotes on doing the remodel. Even though I could afford the extra cost of hiring a GC to do that type of shit, I liked to manage my own construction projects. And God knows, I could use the fucking distraction from spending all my time watching over Gia at this place.
My cell phone rang, and the first genuine smile I had in days appeared on my face. I sat back into my chair while I answered. “Well if it isn’t the birthday girl. Sleep in? I called you two hours ago.”
“I was actually out getting supplies,” my mother said. “The phone rang while I was driving, and I don’t know how to hook up the hands-free thing. You’ll have to do that for me this weekend.”
“Alright.”
“I bought a new set of acrylics and some extra canvas. I’m hoping the sunset is as beautiful as it was last year out there.”
“The weather is supposed to be nice. When are you coming out?”
“This afternoon, if you don’t mind. I know I usually come out on Friday, but I need to get back early to help out at the summer cookout they’re having at church.”
“Of course. Whatever you want. You’re welcome anytime. You know that. Let yourself in when you get here, and I’ll try to be home early from the restaurant. I’ll bring home a nice birthday dinner with me.”
“Actually…I was thinking of coming to the restaurant for the sunset tonight to paint, if that won’t interrupt your busy time or anything. I won’t take up much room, just a chair in the corner of the rooftop bar. I don’t even need to bring my easel.”
“Bring anything you want. I’ll close the fucking place if having other people around distracts you.”
“Heathcliff…your language.”
I was transported back to being ten again. “Sorry. I’ll try to watch my mouth. But can you lay off the Heathcliff around my place of business. No one knows my name is anything other than just Rush. I’m like Madonna…only with a bigger di…. Never mind, just call me Rush at work, please, Ma.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
It was almost five by the time I emerged from my office. I hated to sit behind a desk all day, which was the primary reason it took me the entire afternoon to catch up on all the paperwork I’d been avoiding. The kitchen staff had arrived and were here prepping for the start of the dinner rush when I stopped in.
“I need something that isn’t on tonight’s menu made, probably for about seven o’clock.”
“Sure thing, Rush. Whatta ya need?” Fred, the head chef asked. He’d been my first hire when I took over the place five years ago.
“Salmon Oscar. Just like you used to make at McCormick and Schmick’s.”
He pointed a pair of tongs in his hand at me and smiled. “You got it. Whatever you’re in the mood for.”
“It’s actually not for me. But I appreciate it. I’ll probably just order a burger to eat later.”
“Hot date?”
“It’s my mom’s birthday. She’ll be here in a little while.”
>
Fred winked. “I’ll make it better than I made it when I worked at McCormick and Schmick’s, then.”
I figured I’d head upstairs to section off a little area for my mom to paint before she got here. Thursdays were busy, but usually more so after the dinner rush ended. By then, the sunset would be long gone, and she wasn’t a late-night person anyway.
Climbing the stairs two at a time with a cushioned indoor chair in my hand, I hit the rooftop and froze. We hadn’t opened yet, but my staff was busy setting up tables and stocking the outdoor bar. Everyone bustled around getting ready, except for my bartender. Rhys. Instead of working, he had his forearms resting on the bar while he flirted with a woman. And not just any woman. The smiling asshole was standing there flirting with my girl.
Fury pumped through my veins as I stood there watching. Rhys said something I couldn’t hear, and Gia threw her head back laughing. Fuck. She was so beautiful when she smiled.
As if she sensed me watching her, Gia’s head turned and our eyes caught. She straightened her spine and jutted her chin out, almost daring me to do something about whatever I’d just walked out to see.
She isn’t even on tonight. What the fuck is she doing here?
It took every bit of willpower I had in me to not walk over there and punch the little peckerhead she was talking to in the face. But somehow I managed to control myself. Taking a deep breath, I didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, I went about my own business. I pulled a table over to the corner that had the best sunset views, stuck a reserved sign on it, and then set up a comfortable chair so my mom would have a place to paint.
When I was done, I yelled over to the bartender who was now enemy number one. “This is reserved for tonight. If anyone sits here or takes that chair, you’re fired.”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
Back downstairs, I put my anger to use, bellowing at my staff to move their asses. They looked at me like I was a ticking time bomb, although with the insane amount of rage I felt in my chest, I wasn’t quite sure they were that off base.
Needing to calm down, I stomped toward the bar, poured myself a shot of whiskey, and knocked it back before heading outside for a cigarette. The smoke soothed the fire in my throat when it should have fanned the flame.
I smelled her before I heard her voice. Lost in my head, I hadn’t even noticed Gia open or close the door behind me. “Hey. There you are. Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” I clipped out and inhaled again deeply until the ember tip of my cigarette turned a bright shade of orange.
“I wasn’t trying to stop Rhys from working, if that’s what pissed you off. I carried up a few bottles of rum, knowing there is a drink special on the menu with rum in it tonight.”
I responded in a more bitter tone than I’d intended. “Why are you here?”
“I’m working tonight. I guess Carla didn’t tell you? We switched tonight for Saturday night because she had something to do.”
My face was blank. “No. She didn’t tell me. Why the fuck would anyone tell me anything around here? I only own the damn place.”
“You’re in a mood. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, Gia. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want all of my staff to go about their business and keep the hell out of mine. Is that so fucking hard to do?”
She blinked a few times, her face looked like I’d just physically slapped her. “No. That’s not so hard to do, boss. Forgive me if I overstepped and gave a shit because you looked like you might be upset.” She turned to leave, stopping as she opened the door. “It won’t happen again.”
My mom showed up at six o’clock. I was talking to a DJ who stopped by to discuss the upcoming Fourth of July party I’d hired him for, when I saw her out of the corner of my eye. She smiled spotting me, and it was the first time I felt my shoulders loosen enough to breathe comfortably today.
“Hey, Ma.” I swamped her in a big hug. My mom was a tiny little thing. She liked to tease that I’d almost killed her giving birth to my ten-pound pudgy ass. My size was the one thing that I’d clearly gotten from my father that I didn’t hate.
“Happy fifty-second birthday.”
She smiled. “Shhh. I’m thirty-eight this year.”
In all honestly, no one would blink twice if she said she was thirty-eight. Melody Rushmore kept herself in great shape with daily yoga and some sort of transcendental meditation that she always tried to get me to try out. Looking at her, people would never know that she had a tough life. The youngest of four children raised in rural Canada by an abusive father and alcoholic mother, she moved to New York City at only eighteen. She met my asshole father at twenty-two and fell for his bullshit. Eighteen months later, when she was two months pregnant with me, his true colors came out when he demanded she get an abortion. Before that, she’d had no idea that he was married. Definitely no clue that his wife had just given birth to a son of their own just six months earlier. Since dear old dad wasn’t about to own up to his responsibilities without a paternity test, Mom had to stop working at her dream job at the art gallery and find a job that provided insurance. She’d given up a lot for me, even before I was born.
“Is your easel in the car?”
“Yes. But I don’t need to use it. I can just put a canvas on my lap.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me get you something to drink, and then I’ll go grab your stuff from the car.”
I walked Mom to the bar, my eyes trained on the adjoining dining room where some fuckwad in a cheap suit was checking out Gia’s ass while she walked him to a table. The fucking universe is out to test my patience tonight.
Distracted, I poured Mom a glass of wine that almost overflowed. “Let me have your keys. I’ll be right back.”
Cheap Suit was still molesting Gia with his eyes. On my way to Mom’s car, I walked over to the table he still hadn’t sat his ass down at. “Everything okay here?” My face did not look like it gave a flying fuck if it was.
Gia’s brows furrowed. “Fine. Did you need something?”
I glared at Cheap Suit. “Just for your customers to take their seat so you can get back to work.”
Gia glared back on his behalf. “Thank you. If we need any assistance, we’ll let you know.”
I stormed off to the car. At the door, Oak shot me a knowing grin that said he’d just watched the interaction I had with my employee. I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t say a fucking word.” Then crashed the front door to the restaurant open.
The gravel beneath my feet crunched like it was as pissed off as I was while I made my way through the parking lot to find Mom’s car. Grabbing her paints, canvas, easel, and brushes, I slammed the trunk to her Kia and leaned against the car with my eyes shut.
The sound of gravel-chomping footsteps interrupted my attempt at calming myself. Gia was headed right toward me again and looked as pissed as I felt. I looked up at the sky and grumbled, “Not again.”
Her tiny hands flew to her hips. “This is bullshit.”
“You walking out of the restaurant when you should be inside working? I couldn’t fucking agree more.”
She squinted at me. “You know what I’m talking about.”
I pushed off the car and took a step forward. “I’m not in the mood for your psycho-analysis bullshit, Gia. Go back inside and get to work.”
“I thought you were different than all the other Hamptonite jerk guys. But the truth is, you just wear different armor on the outside. On the inside you’re the same self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard they all are.”
“I’m self-absorbed? Because I want you to do your job and not stick your tits in the face of my staff and customers.”
If I’d thought she was pissed off before, her face contorted to a whole new level of angry. Her lips twisted into a scowl, her forehead pinched, and the color in her face turned a lovely shade of crimson. At that moment, it became clear that I was losing my fucking mind, because while I’d been pissed off and wanting to lash out at
the world since I’d first saw that skinny bartender pass my office earlier today, suddenly Gia’s seething changed my mood.
I bet angry fucking her would be great.
She stood in front of me practically foaming at the mouth, and all I saw was me, holding a fistful of her hair, yanking hard as I plowed into her from behind, smacking her ass over and over.
Fuck.
“You’re an egomaniac. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me to show anyone else any attention, either.”
I stared at her, her words blurring as more visions became clear: Wrists tied to my headboard while she writhed under my tongue. I’d suck her pussy until she was on edge, just about to let go, then I’d lift her legs up into the air and onto my shoulders. Spreading her wetness from clit to crack, I’d lube up her tight little virgin ass. And then finger fuck the shit out of it until she was begging all over again.
“Blah. Blah Blah.” At least that’s what I heard. Gia’s voice was going again, but I couldn’t make out a damn word if I tried.
“Are you even listening to me?” she barked.
Not a fucking word. But turn around, bend over the hood of Mom’s car, and I’ll hear every scream I can wring out of you.
God, I really hoped her ass had never been touched. Would she punch me if I asked right now? Do I give a flying fuck if she does?
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she continued to stare at me like I had two heads.
A dark smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“What?” Her patience ran thin.
My eyes dropped to the heavy heave of her chest, her nipples angrily protruding. God, she was sexy as fuck pissed off. Asking the status of her asshole would certainly elevate that...
I took a step forward and leaned down so our faces were aligned. She stood her ground with a swallow. “Anyone ever enter through your back door, Gia?”
Her pissed-off face morphed into confusion. “What? I came out the front door. Didn’t you just see me walk out?”