by Ivy Raine
Midge glanced at her wrist. “An hour or so,” she said, grabbing the last dirty plate. “You need to calm down before Mr. Mirelli gets back.”
Marta froze. “He’s coming back? I thought he was gonna be gone all day.” Her heart thudded like a brick in her chest. “I can’t do this today, Midge!”
“Calm down, chickpea! Just follow Midge back to the kitchen and everything’ll be just fine.”
“This isn’t funny!” Marta felt like crying.
“I know it’s not,” said Midge, nudging Marta with her elbow. “But you’ve gotta keep a clear head until we figure something out. Now, come on. Jennifer’s boring holes into us with her laser eyes.”
Marta took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. I can do this.”
“Great news, because Mr. Mirelli just walked in.”
Midge dove into the kitchen with Marta on her tail, but it was too late. Marta heard Brad calling her name.
“Marta!”
She stopped and put a smile on her face before turning around. “Hi! I didn’t think you were coming back today.”
He grabbed the tray from her hands and shoved it down the conveyer. “From the looks of this place, it’s a good thing I did.”
Marta looked around. “What’s wrong with it?”
He smiled and pulled an apron over his head. “It’s missing the chef.”
“We were missing the chef, too,” teased Midge as she flew by with another tray of food. “You picked the busiest day ever to bail out on us.”
“Sorry about that, ladies. Won’t happen again.” Brad graced Marta with a generous smile before retreating to the kitchen office with Jennifer.
As she stood looking at the office door, Marta wished she could have felt the same level of safe comfort with Stash that she did with Brad. Brad oozed stability while Stash just reeked of injured arrogance – sexy, injured arrogance.
“Too bad I can’t combine them,” she said out loud.
“Combine what?” Midge sent another stack of dirty dishes down the conveyor.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just wondering how I can make one plus one equal one.”
Midge laughed. “Maybe you should cut out early. You’re sounding a little frazzled.”
“And do what?” The dark, chilly cottage by the sea wouldn’t be home without Stash, and as much as she pretended it annoyed her, she’d miss his incessant sexual innuendo.
“Who knows,” said Midge. “Maybe he’ll be there when you get home.”
A dim ray of hope warmed Marta. “Do you think so?”
“Anything’s possible, chickpea.”
“Will you stop with the chickpea stuff?” Marta tossed her shoulder cloth at Midge. Then the realization hit her. Beautiful. The name so easily adopted as her own would be spoken no more. “Never mind. If you wanna call me chickpea, go ahead.”
“I won’t if it bothers you.”
“No.” Marta had to let everything go, starting with Stash, or it would slowly kill what was left of her. She knew this, and she also knew it was easy to throw around the tough talk. It was the implementing part that was destined to be a bitch, but she was going to give it her best shot. “Nothing’s gonna bother me from now on. I won’t let it.” Now, if she could just believe those words.
“Well! That’s a good start to a new attitude. You can put it in action by cleaning up table six. Family from hell,” she added. “Five kids under the age of ten. They left no spot unsoiled.”
Marta welcomed the filthy table. It gave her extra time to think.
“Marta.” Jennifer’s ability to creep up behind a person was legendary. “Brad’s on the phone right now, but he wanted me to tell you he needs you to stay an extra hour if you can.”
Hmm. Something, it seemed, was up. Jennifer normally didn’t smile without a very good reason.
“Okay. Sure.” Marta put up her best front and beamed a quick flash of teeth right back at her. She could fight porcelain with porcelain, too.
The extra step in Jennifer’s gait made Marta nervous. Maybe she’d convinced Brad to fire Marta, or worse yet, maybe she’d been permanently transferred to dishwashing. It didn’t take long for her questions to be answered. Brad seemed anxious to talk to her.
“So,” he said as he locked the door for the night. “What would you think if I asked you to be our new hostess?”
Marta wasn’t quite sure how to answer Brad’s question considering the current occupier of the job was standing right beside him.
Glancing back and forth between them, Marta got the feeling something much bigger was going on here.
“Well…I don’t know.” Marta twisted her fingers and stumbled over her words. “I kinda thought that position was taken.”
Brad crossed his arms and he and Jennifer looked at each other and then back at Marta. “Nope. It’s wide open. My former hostess is now my manager, hence the need for a new hostess.” When Marta didn’t answer, he leaned in a little. “It comes with a pay raise and a nicer uniform.”
“But, why me? The other girls have been here for a lot longer. Won’t they be upset?” Marta thought about Midge and the three years she’d logged while going to college.
“I’m not looking to be politically correct, Marta. This is a business decision. You’ve got the education. You consistently bring home nearly a third more in tips than most of the other girls. You wait on approximately four more customers per day and you’re always on time. Well,” he said, backtracking a bit, “almost always on time.”
Yeah. The only time she’d ever been late was thanks to Stash and his skunk episode. And oh, what an episode it was. Her mind didn’t have to sift through too much to relive the bath tub scene. She kept it near the top for easy access.
“Going once, going twice-.”
“Sold! I’ll take it. And, thank you.” Marta smiled, but Stash’s words came back to her like a boomerang. ‘Did you ask for a raise?’ Everything was getting all muddled up together. Did she really earn the position or did he give it to her because she’d agreed to go out with him? She wanted to believe it was a business decision, but a small part of her felt dirty and cheap – like a gold-digger.
The cottage lay empty and quiet when she returned later that night. She’d avoided it as long as she could, but a girl can only drive around aimlessly for so long. Or maybe it wasn’t as aimless as she’d convinced herself. She’d driven by the garage where he’d worked, stalked all the little restaurants they’d frequented, and spied on the people on the boardwalk. No Stash. Deep down she knew he wouldn’t be there. Stash wasn’t the fickle type. When he made a decision, he went all the way.
She wished he was there. She needed his advice. His blunt, in your face, honest advice.
Chapter 11
Marta ran her hands down the front of her dress, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles. Major butterflies took up residence in her stomach. “Why am I so nervous?”
It’s not like this was first contact. They’d spent the better part of the last four days working up to this date. Brad had even given her a quick peck on the cheek before she left work that afternoon.
She wondered what Stash would have done if he’d been there to receive Brad. He said he’d fight for her. Where was he? Is that why she didn’t cancel on Brad? Did she really think Stash would ride back in on his white horse at the last minute? Marta shook her head, and for a moment, contemplated dropping something heavy on her own foot to bring her back to reality. Stash left. He wanted to leave. Marta took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. This was no longer a revenge date, and Bradley Mirelli was a human being with feelings. Not that she really needed to remind herself of that fact, but it helped to put her motives into perspective.
“Just go out and have a good time,” she mumbled to herself. “Get him out of your mind.”
She checked the window for the hundredth time in less than half an hour. Brad said he’d pick her up by seven and it was already ten after. Maybe he forgot. Marta chastised herself and shove
d that one aside in a hurry. She’d talked to him two hours earlier and everything was still a go. She’d done that a lot this week – talk to him, that is. It’s amazing how easily two people could fall into a rhythm without even trying. Brad was easy – easy to talk to, easy to like, and definitely easy on the eyes.
Straightening her tight, form-fitted dress, Marta inadvertently touched her hips and realized she had roomy gaps between her elbows and her waist for the first time in three years – a lot of room. The mirror hanging on the other side of the living room was calling her.
Marta stepped in line with the mirror and stood back, taking in her reflection. “Well,” she mumbled to herself. “It is black.” But even Marta couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d acquired a really nice hourglass shape over the last month. Her dress was a size ten – a tight size ten, but it hit in all the right spots.
She jumped when something struck the front door. It took a few seconds for her to realize someone was knocking.
“Be right there!” Marta took one last look, twirled a curl around her finger and headed for the door. A part of her – a big part – hoped she’d find Stash standing on the other side.
“I’m sorry I’m a little late.” Bradley wore the apologetic look like a pro, and Marta couldn’t have been mad even if she wanted to. Besides, who could be mad at a guy who looked as good as that? Some guys were icing on the cake. Brad was the cherry sitting high on the whipped cream. He gave her a quick once-over. “You look…really nice.”
Marta felt her face flame up when his eyes lingered on her chest. So much for her naïve thinking that some guys were different.
“Thanks,” she said, trying to divert his attention elsewhere. “So do you.”
“Thanks.”
The awkward moment of silence was broken by the sound of a car horn blaring off in the distance.
“Do you have a jacket or something? It’s getting chilly.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Marta grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him inside. “My mind’s not working tonight.”
“No, no!” he said, laughing. “I was serious. You’ll need a jacket. The fog’s rolling in.”
Marta pulled her trench coat from the closet and draped it over her arm.
“Let me.” Brad took her coat and held it while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “I have to admit,” he said, opening the door. “This is more than just a date. It could be considered somewhat of a business trip.”
A hint of ugly crept into their perfectly lovely evening. Did he really want to go out with her or was he getting extra mileage out of her with no pay? She felt guilty for even daring to let that thought cross her mind. Brad wasn’t the type. And yet…
“Is this part of my new position?” Marta wanted to kick herself for letting this put a cloud over the evening. Nothing had changed and she knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it.
“Actually, it is.”
“Oh.” Marta cheered herself up with the thought of the nice, fat raise in her next paycheck. “Undercover work?”
Brad laughed. There was something about the smooth, mellow tones of his laughter that sent a wash of calm over Marta.
“You could call it that.” He popped the car door for Marta before running around to the driver’s side. “We’re going incognito. Whatever you do, don’t tell them who you or where you work.”
“What, exactly, is going on?” Marta’s curiosity had been piqued.
The car engine revved to life, dousing Marta with a blast of warm air. “I’m thinking about adding a new line of wines to the menu and I want to sample the real thing. Not the fussed over, hand-picked bottles they’d bring out if they knew why I was really there.”
“Smart move.”
Brad snapped his seat belt in place. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too.”
Marta breathed in the luscious scent encapsulating every ounce of air inside Brad’s immaculate sports car. It smelled like man – fresh man, and she liked it. A zap of desire shot through her when she remembered the intoxicating smell of Stash’s face just after he’d shaved. It was nothing like the fragrance in Brad’s car, and she found herself missing him more than ever. She sneaked a quick side long glance at Brad. He was pretty – very pretty – but he wasn’t Stash.
“Shall I take notes?” Marta was only teasing, but Brad took it seriously, guilt furrowing his brow.
“Well, yeah. You can note whether or not you’d be willing to go on a second date. One with no strings attached.”
Marta’s heart fluttered but she did a masterful job of playing it cool. “Sure. As long as it’s not bungee jumping sans the cord.”
An enormous smile spread across Brad’s face, washing away the worry lines. “A sense of humor, I see. I like that.”
Ha! Sense of humor. Marta chuckled to herself on that one. She lost her sense of humor years ago and replaced it with the sarcastic realisms of life. There was hope that one day it would resurface and shove aside her jaded view of the world, but until then, sarcasm would have to suffice.
“I try to inject a little lopsided humor into things, but most of the time it backfires. I’m just not a very funny girl, it seems.”
Brad reached over and caught her hand, absently running his fingers up and down hers. It didn’t take but a few seconds to realize he was focusing all his fingerly attentions on her blatantly bare ring finger. Thankfully, he needed his right hand to make a quick turn, and to Marta’s relief, he kept it safely on the wheel.
Chit chat. Marta was never really fond of it, but she managed to master it in spite of herself, and right at this moment, she was glad she’d been a student of life and all its social graces. Bradley, it seemed, had taken the same course.
“So,” he said, sending a wave of quick glances Marta’s way. “How do you like the restaurant business?”
Thought she wanted to paint a rosy picture for her job’s sake, Marta couldn’t bring herself to lie, even if it was an innocent, little whitewashed string of words. “Well, it isn’t for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. The job’s tough and sometimes it really sucks.”
“Hmm. Anything I can do to make it unsuck?” The way he said it sounded a bit too boss-like.
Marta laughed it off. Hey! Whoever said telling the truth wouldn’t hurt? “Not unless you can heal my aching feet, miraculously change the nasty attitudes of some of your customers, and then hire fairies to do the cleanup after the lights go out. Other than that, it’s a dream job.”
The thirty second stretch of silence seemed to drone on for an eternity, and Marta was sure she’d pissed him off.
“Foot rubs.”
Marta had just slipped off into a blissful daydream about Stash when Brad’s voice jolted her back to reality. “Hmm? What about them?”
“That’s how I can make the job unsuck. I’ll give you a foot rub every day. That’ll take care of problem number one.”
No one could give foot rubs like Stash. He’d start with her foot and slowly, methodically work his way up as he attempted to distract her with idle chatter.
“How was your day, beautiful?”
The question sincere, the motive suspect.
“Tiring. I just want to sleep.”
His hands worked at her foot and ankle, rubbing away the stress of the day. “You go ahead and sleep. I’ll just keep myself occupied with more worthwhile endeavors.”
Marta opened one eye. “Um, Stash. I didn’t walk on my calves.” She used her free foot to nudge his hands back down toward her feet.
“Toxins! I’m releasing them. You don’t want that shit to build up in your tissues, do you?” Stash pushed her protesting foot away. “You know where else toxins build up?”
He didn’t have to say a word. Marta followed his eyes to the gap in her half buttoned blouse.
“Don’t go getting any ideas! You’re treading in virgin territory.”
Stash dropped her foot, a look of annoyance on his face. “Don’t remind me.”
&
nbsp; “So, what do you think? Would foot rubs do it for you?”
“Foot rubs are nice, but a little impractical, considering I don’t take my shoes off until I get home.”
Brad laughed. “I suppose that would be difficult to coordinate.”
“So, we’re back to fairies for cleanup.”
“Now, fairies might be a little more difficult to procure.” Brad eased his car onto the exit ramp and merged onto a six lane. “The only one I have personal experience with is the tooth fairy, and I think the only thing she’s cleaning up on is lost teeth.”
The highway leading to the vineyard looked familiar, and it didn’t take long for Marta to recognize the passing scenery.
“I think I’ve been on this road before. Are we near the ocean?”
Brad turned down the heater fan. “We are. The ocean’s supposed to be really pretty along the cove.”
Closing her eyes, Marta remembered the afternoon she’d spent with Stash snuggling close to her. “It is.”
“You’ve seen it?” Brad sounded surprised. “These are all private lots through here – very expensive private lots. Do you know someone who lives along the cove?”
The wheels were spinning on how to answer that one. “Well, not technically, but by proxy.”
“Oh.”
Though it shouldn’t have, the tone of his voice irritated Marta. It was almost as if he were condemning her for something she hadn’t done.
“It’s got its downfalls,” she said, trying to shrug it off. “Skunks.”
“Skunks?”
“Yep. Just like the one you’re about to flatten.” Marta braced herself and looked away.
Brad slowed down to let the black and white ball of fur cross the road. “This guy’s missing his tail.”
“Hey! I know that skunk!” Marta pulled out her cell phone and snapped a quick picture. “Stash’ll never believe it,” she said, laughing.
Brad didn’t miss a thing. “So, that’s who you were out here with? Your roommate?”
If ever there was a time when she wished she could wave a magic wand and disappear the last thirty seconds, this was it. “Yes. Stash’s brother owns one of these lots. I can’t point it out in the dark, but it’s along here somewhere, and if the skunk sticks close to home, it’s nearby.”