by Ashlyn Chase
He knocked. Hoping for the best, Bliss opened the front door.
“Hi there, beautiful. It’s a great day to move.”
It was true. The sun shone in the clear blue sky, and the humidity was low. As an added bonus, Bliss hadn’t committed matricide yet.
“Come in, Drake.”
Mrs. Russo strolled over, and before she could berate her for not introducing them, Bliss said, “Drake, this is my mother, Malinda Russo.”
“What a beautiful name. It suits you,” he said.
Her mother tittered—actually tittered—and extended her hand. He shook it and held on for an extra moment. “I can see where Bliss gets her beauty.”
Good going, Drake. Now she’ll be adamant I make you her son-in-law. “There’s not much stuff to load into your truck. Just a few castoffs and a suitcase. We can be on our way in about fifteen minutes.”
“What’s the rush, Blissful? He just got here. He’s probably thirsty after the long drive.”
Crap. Now he knows what my stupid nickname is. “It’s not that long a drive, Ma, and I’m anxious to get going so I can settle in.”
“Oh, all right.” Her mother did the disappointed sigh better than a Jewish mother. “If you must, I guess you must.”
Bliss rolled her eyes so Drake could see her but her mom couldn’t.
“Maybe another time,” he said.
“Oh, yes. I’d love to have you over for Sunday dinner… as a thank-you for helping Blissy move. I make lasagna better than you’ll get in the city—including the North End.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Drake said, and gave Malinda Russo his killer grin.
Bliss thought her mother would faint.
“I’ll show you the basement. That’s where the old furniture is.”
“It’s not that old, Blissful.”
Bliss slapped her own forehead. “Will you please stop calling me by the nicknames I hate?”
Her mother looked hurt, then angry, and stomped out of the room, muttering, “Everyone thought they were cute when you were little.”
Damn. Now I’m the bad guy.
“Let’s get to that furniture,” Drake said. “It won’t move itself.”
Drake to the rescue… again. “Yes, let’s.”
She led him to the cellar door and they tromped down the stairs. Once they were in the basement he spun her toward him and said, “Don’t worry about your nickname. I get ‘blissy’ just looking at you.” Before she could protest, he kissed her.
She practically melted in his arms. When he released her, she grasped the back of the sleeper sofa to steady herself.
“Wow. You do that so well.”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “You’re pretty good at it yourself.” Pointing toward the sofa, he asked, “Is that going?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. That’ll be my bed until I get a real one. Then I’ll put it in the guest room.”
“You have a guest room?”
Bliss chuckled. “No, but that’s what my friends and I call the living room if guests come. I was sleeping in Claudia’s guest room last weekend.”
“Gotcha. I suppose I should have a ‘guest room.’” He made air quotes. “But I don’t have guests.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know if that was good news or bad. Did he make it a rule never to let anyone sleep over—or was he telling her she was his only girlfriend?
“I live in a studio for now. I had to find something quickly when I got to Boston, but I’ll be on the lookout for something bigger as soon as the lease is up.”
“Ah. That’s right.” She moved to one end of the couch. “Well, this thing is damn heavy. If we need more muscle, I can ask my dad to come down.”
“Nah, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Drake picked up the sofa in the middle and hoisted the whole thing over his head.
“Holy cow,” Bliss exclaimed. “How did you… I mean, whoa. Don’t give yourself a hernia. I can help.”
“No need. I’ve got it.”
Shit. I figured he was strong enough to carry people out of burning buildings, but lifting ridiculously heavy seventies furniture over his head? “I’ll guide you then.” She hurried to the end of the sofa that was closest to the stairs. “Follow my legs.”
“Gladly,” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.
***
Drake unloaded the last of her belongings while Bliss kept an eye on his truck. She’d told him again how amazed she was by his strength. Maybe he should have played it low key. No need to make her suspicious if she wasn’t already, but he couldn’t help showing off a little bit.
She handed him the extra key to her apartment so he could park in a legal spot and then come up to her place. He gave her a peck on the lips before he got in—and noticed her look of surprise that quickly turned into a smile.
I guess she’s not used to public displays of affection. Apparently, showing up the guys in her past wouldn’t be hard.
He found a parking spot just around the corner and strode back to her building. If things went well, maybe she’d be moving her belongings again someday… into a place of their own. Christ, Drake, jumping the gun much?
Still, it would be great to have a special woman who knew and accepted what he was. Barring any nasty surprises, he’d never have to explain it to anyone again.
He took the steps to the second floor two at a time. He wasn’t even winded from the exertion of moving and then walking quickly back to her place. Anticipation had him focusing on other things. Pleasanter things.
He knocked to give her fair warning, despite having the key, then used it and walked in. “Did I put things where you wanted them?”
“Yup. You read the boxes well,” she teased.
“Thank you for making it fairly idiot-proof with the labels. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted the couch in your bedroom or out here in the ‘guest room’ until you got another bed.”
“You guessed right by putting it in the bedroom. I can deal with moving it out when the time comes. I’ll just have to try extra hard not to ruin the hardwood floors if I have to drag it from one room to another.”
“That’s what I thought. But, if you ever need to move your stuff around again…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll ask.” She grinned.
“I was going to say, ask someone else.”
Her grin disappeared and her eyes rounded.
He laughed. “I was kidding.”
“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you meant it. They made damn heavy furniture in the sixties and seventies.”
“Is that when your parents bought everything?”
“Probably. It’s old enough to be replaced, but not old enough to be antique. I think it qualifies as junk.”
“Hey, if it gets the job done…”
He thought he caught a glint in her eye.
“I might need some help testing its functionality. Want to see if the bed is comfortable?”
He was surprised by her invitation but no less pleased. She did find nice ways of thanking him.
“Are you sure? I thought you had a roommate.”
“She’s working at the bar downstairs.”
“I mean, of course I’d love to, but don’t feel like you need—”
“Believe me, I need.” She grabbed his shirt and dragged his mouth to hers, delivering a long, silencing kiss.
He let his hands roam over her body, eventually cupping her ass and giving it a squeeze.
She broke the kiss and said in a husky voice, “I’m glad I labeled the box with the sheets in it.”
He chuckled and followed her into the bedroom where she found the box marked “Linens, etc.” He tossed the couch cushions aside and opened the hide-a-bed. These things were rarely comfortable, but this one didn’t look too bad. At least the mattress appeared thick enou
gh to cushion the metal bar.
She practically ran back to the bed with an armful of sheets. Wow. She seems as sex-starved as I am.
Regardless of the fact that he’d have to stop at heavy petting, it was refreshing to find a woman who liked sex and didn’t mind initiating it. Now he just had to hope he didn’t get so hot and bothered that he’d start to shift. It could happen. He hadn’t blown off steam in a while.
Bliss unfurled the bottom sheet across the bed and he caught it. The two of them made quick work of covering the bare mattress and rolled to the middle of it still wearing their clothes.
“Yup. Seems plenty comfortable—”
He didn’t even get to say “to me,” because she had him in a desperate clutch and was delivering another hot kiss. Wow.
She popped open the button on her jeans. “We have way too many layers between us.”
Drake rolled up to a sitting position and unlaced his boots. Kicking them off, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. Before he could yank it up, he noticed Bliss had already stripped down to her underwear… and stopped.
“Do you have a condom?”
“No, but I’m clean and I can’t get you pregnant.” She hesitated. He figured he’d lighten the moment. “If we were playing strip poker, you’d lose.”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “I’m a pretty good poker player.” Her wink seemed to say she’d enjoy a game of strip poker at some point.
He unzipped and whipped off his jeans. “We’ll have to try it sometime.”
She grinned and whispered, “Oh, yeah.”
I love it when Bliss smiles. I hope I can make her smile a lot more.
He suddenly realized what she was smiling at—his big, rock-hard erection, and her expression was turning into a leer.
“Wow. I thought you’d be well endowed, but, well…”
“Well what?”
“Well, dayum!”
Drake couldn’t help it. He let out a hearty laugh.
Suddenly she lost her grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you before…”
“Before?”
“You know. The good part. No condom, no penetration.”
“I understand completely. I have other tricks up my sleeve, though.”
Bliss shoved against his chest and Drake flopped onto his back.
At that moment, a door opened and closed. It sounded as if someone had just entered the apartment.
“Shit,” Bliss muttered.
“Hello?” a female voice called out. “Is anyone here?”
Drake and Bliss jumped off the bed and pulled on their jeans and T-shirts as fast as they could.
“Just a minute,” Bliss yelled.
“That must be your roommate. I thought you said she was working,” he said in a loud whisper.
“Maybe she’s on her break and came up to introduce herself. Who knows?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
***
Bliss checked to be sure Drake was decent and then opened the door. She strode out to the living room and saw an attractive young woman with blond highlighted hair puttering in the open kitchen.
She came out to the living area, drying her hands on a towel. “Hi. I’m Angie, and you must be Bliss. Claudia told me you’d be moving in today.” Then she turned toward Drake and sent him a jaunty smile. “Hey, Drake. What are you doing here?”
Bliss glanced from one to the other. “You know each other?”
Drake shuffled his feet and focused on the floor. “I’m what you’d call a semi-regular at the bar downstairs.”
“And I’m one of the bartenders,” Angie said. “He usually occupies a stool right at the bar, so we chitchat during lulls.”
Bliss wondered if a “semi-regular” was anything to be worried about. Was he semi-regularly drunk? Did they call out his name when he walked in the door? But it was too soon for such a personal question. She’d find out eventually, especially since she’d be working there starting tomorrow.
“So, Angie, I’m glad you came upstairs and introduced yourself,” Bliss said. “Are you on your break?”
“No, my shift is done for the day. Full-timers work six-hour shifts. Today, I worked eleven to five. Most of the time, I work five to eleven.”
“The bar is only open until eleven o’clock at night?”
“Yeah. Didn’t Claudia tell you? I don’t know why Anthony insists that everyone be out before midnight, but I’m not about to question my good luck.”
“Hmmm…” Bliss wondered about that too. “Is that unusual? I thought most bars were open until at least one or two o’clock in the morning.”
Angie shrugged. “We’re just a neighborhood bar. Most late-nighters go to the trendy clubs. Anthony might have tried the later hours and found it wasn’t worth it, but I really don’t know.”
Bliss could always ask Claudia, if she cared enough. For now she’d adopt Angie’s attitude and just call it good luck.
“The only downside,” Angie was saying, “is that we don’t get breaks. There are labor laws on the books that say employees who work more than six hours must have a meal break. Personally, I’d rather go home than go on a useless break.”
“I won’t be working full time.”
“Really?” Angie tipped her head. “Huh. Claudia doesn’t usually hire part-timers and let them live here. And even though all of us are technically working part-time at six hours a day, five days a week, she doesn’t insult us by calling us part-timers. Oh! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I didn’t mean…”
“No offense taken.” Bliss figured Claudia was doing her a favor, but the others didn’t need to know that. It might be a good idea to keep her friendship with the boss on the down-low, unless Claudia hadn’t already mentioned it. “So does Claudia do all the hiring?”
“Yeah, as far as I know. Anthony seems to trust her completely. I’ve never seen him show up during the day, and that’s when Claudia is in charge. Most interviews happen during the afternoon. She’s the only one who works eight hours at a stretch, as far as I know. She spends a lot of time in the office, so maybe she considers that her meal break. Must be nice, having a two- or three-hour meal break every day.”
Nope. Looks like Claudia didn’t mention we’re friends. That might be handy in case her friend needed to know what went on behind the scenes. Nah. Stay out of bar politics, Bliss. You have more important things to focus on. She probably wouldn’t be working there long enough to care.
As long as she could redo most of her designs before the producers and camera crew showed up to film the segment where they checked in on all the finalists, she’d be okay. She did not want that happening at her parents’ house. Other shows did that, and she’d always seen happy families who were supportive of their son’s or daughter’s ambitions. The last thing she needed was her mother calling the competition foolish.
Chapter 5
Claudia had taken Bliss into the office and given her a uniform. Black skirt, black apron, and white blouse. Bliss changed behind a folding screen. The uniform fit well enough, although she would have liked it tapered a bit to show a more feminine hourglass figure. Maybe she could find a tailor. Then she remembered she needed her money to rebuild her real job. If she didn’t win the competition and the fifty-thousand dollars that came with it, she’d be screwed.
When she strolled around the partition, she asked, “Aren’t uniforms sort of old school?”
Claudia smiled indulgently. “Wait until you meet Anthony. Talk about old school…”
“The owner? Why? Is he like a million years old?”
Claudia laughed and tied Bliss’s apron tighter. “Not at all. He’s young and ridiculously good looking, but he has this old-world charm. Very formal manners, a slight European accent, but he won’t tell you exactly where he comes from, so don’t bother asking.”
“Okay…” Bliss glanced in the mirror and realized that when Claudia cinched the apron tighter, she gave her a nice nipped-in waist. Problem solved.
“Look, I’m just mentioning it because he can be a bit intimidating to new staff members. Don’t worry about it, though. He’s a sweetheart when you get to know him.” She sighed.
“Do I detect a crush on the boss?”
Claudia’s expression suddenly turned serious, and she shoved an order pad toward Bliss. “Maybe. But don’t say anything or even hint at that. He doesn’t date his employees, and he has a psycho girlfriend who you don’t want to piss off.”
Bliss took the order pad and continued to study her friend’s face. “I’ve never seen you like this, Claudia. Is there something else going on?”
“No, just… just keep whatever I tell you confidential, okay? I’m giving you more information than I’d give an employee I didn’t know. Anthony’s a good guy, but Ruxandra—his girlfriend—is a piece of work. Steer clear of her. And stay as far away from Anthony as you can when she’s around. If she gets the wrong idea…” Claudia shivered.
“Seriously? She’s so jealous that you’re afraid of her?”
“Not… not really. Anthony keeps her in check.”
“Sounds like a wonderful relationship,” Bliss said, rolling her eyes.
“Regardless, it’s none of our business. I just wanted you to be aware of the dynamics.”
Bliss scanned the order pad, which didn’t look too complicated. “Okay. Fine. Consider me fully aware. So, I guess I’d better get out there and start my first shift.”
“Yeah. I’ll introduce you to the other employees, and the regulars will probably introduce themselves. How are you at handling sexual harassment?”
Bliss laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve seen my cards, haven’t you?”
“Whoa. I’d rather you not insult the customers if you can help it.”
“Don’t worry. I can deflect, distract, or disconcert. I won’t insult anyone, at least not directly.” She gave her friend a teasing grin. “Kidding. What do you think is the best approach?”
“Go with your gut, unless that involves punching someone out. If a customer gets fresh and won’t stop, find me or Anthony. We’ll take care of it.”