I wanted to believe everything and everyone had their purpose in everyone else’s life, and that sometimes that purpose was as simple as a quick hookup. For a while, it had been working. I believed that theory.
Until that night.
I gazed up at the news reporter on screen, a mic clutched in her hand as she relayed the events of a protest happening in Burbank, California. My mouth became dry. I couldn’t do it.
Not only could I not continue forward with my plan to seduce the stranger next to me, I couldn’t even find it in myself to continue the conversation.
I suddenly felt unbelievably and inexplicably tired.
Throwing a bill down on the table, I stood up.
“It was nice talking to you,” I told Amy. “I need to get going.”
She looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay. Well, maybe I’ll see you around here before you go.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing then that I probably wouldn’t return to the bar. “Merry Christmas.”
I went for the door, my head pounding. I’m not a good guy, Amy, I wanted to tell her. If you’re expecting someone to ask you out on a date, that’s not me. I’m not capable of normal things like that. Not anymore.
A fling was as far as I’d go. I’d accepted that about myself months ago. The disappointment of my marriage took everything from me, which meant I didn’t have anything left to give anyone else.
So what was I doing walking away from the only kind of companionship I could get?
Gritting my teeth, I stomped down the sidewalk. Staring at the concrete, I didn’t even look where I was going. The town was practically deserted with only the occasional car creeping by.
I walked and walked, my head a fucked up mess. Nothing about what I wanted in that moment was certain, and it was driving me crazy.
One thing was for sure, though, I couldn’t get Gwen off my mind. She was the woman I wanted to be hooking up with, the woman I wanted to be letting go of all my cares and worries with. Why? I had no idea. I just wanted her.
I bit my bottom lip till I tasted blood. What was wrong with me? She wasn’t even that nice.
Also, I couldn’t use her. She wasn’t going to just come to me like I hoped. No matter how high our level of attraction was, she had her own reservations stopping her. Which is probably what made her so damn attractive.
A creaking noise made me look up. The wooden sign to Freddy’s hung a few feet above my head. I hadn’t even realized I was on the shop’s street. Taking a step backwards, I squinted and peered through the front window. It was completely dark inside, with no real defined shapes. Only dark lumps filled the area. I squinted even harder and leaned closer, but what I was looking for I didn’t know.
Maybe it was an answer to Gwen’s mystique.
Maybe it was an answer to my own.
I was falling for the woman. I knew it right then and there. We probably hadn’t shared much more than a hundred or so words between the two of us, but thinking about her made my pulse speed up. It made my limbs and everything else get hot.
She was the reason I hadn’t been able to pick that Amy girl up.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
This was not good. It was not good at all.
A small disturbance inside of Freddy’s caught my attention. I straightened my back but didn’t move, afraid I’d just imagined the slight movement. Holding my breath, I continued to gaze through the glass. It was as if a shadow had moved somewhere over where the couch was.
Was someone in the shop? A burglar? Gwen?
I waited for another sign that I wasn’t crazy. Waited for the flicker of a flashlight or the hammering of a safe being broken into, but nothing came. There were no noises and no more movement.
Slowly, I walked away, towards the Lawrences’ house. I was definitely imagining things.
So the bad news was that I was going insane. The good news was I was at least aware of the fact.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gwen
“I don’t know,” Kieran sighed. “What do you think I should do?”
I shrugged at her and turned the grinder on to get my double shot. The line from the last two hours had finally died down and we’d made it out alive, albeit barely. My head was reeling, my feet were already aching, and I swear my vision had started to blur from the absolute craziness of it all. It was time for a celebratory shot of espresso.
“I’m no good at relationship advice,” I told her.
She kept stocking paper cups, pulling them from the plastic sleeves and piling them face down on the counter. “I don’t believe that.”
I snorted. “Oh really? Have you ever seen me with a man?”
“No, but I see the way they look at you. Half of the guys who come in here are probably in love with you.”
“It’s my mean cappuccino froth they’re in love with.”
“They only order cappuccinos because you’re here to make them.”
I gave her a dirty look. “Are you saying we don’t serve coffee here?”
She grinned. “Oops. Let me take that last part back.”
“Yeah, you better,” I teased.
“Really, though, you’re like one of the coolest people in Crystal Brook.”
“Okay,” I batted my lashes, making fun of her. “Go on.”
“Plus, you’re so beautiful and nice,” she said seriously, not picking up on my joking mood.
I pursed my lips. Kieran saw the good side of me; the work side of me. She didn’t know anything about how anti-social I could be when pried away from the coffee bar.
“You’ve had at least one serious boyfriend, right?” she continued.
I pulled the shot and set two tiny ceramic cups under the porter filter, watching the chocolate colored liquid slide out.
“I guess.” Mike was the last person I wanted to talk about. I had successfully fought the last urge to text him, but who knew how strong I would be the next time a cold and lonely night came rolling around?
“Then what should I do?” Kieran pressed.
I looked at her. “You should do what you want. If you think meeting Colton’s parents is moving too fast, then listen to your gut instinct. Just make sure you don’t do anything that you don’t really want to do.”
She twisted her lips. “We’re already living together.”
And way too soon, I thought, but kept my mouth zipped. I handed her one of the shots and we clinked the mugs together before downing the sweet elixir.
Another thought occurred to me. “Just because you guys live together doesn’t mean you’re indebted to him. You get to decide how you want to do things, how to live your life.”
“Hm,” she murmured, nodding. “Okay. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
My good deed for the day done, I set my espresso cup in the dish bin we kept under the counter.
“I heard you had a serious boyfriend in New York,” Kieran blurted.
I coughed in surprise and clutched my chest. “Where did you hear that?”
She looked embarrassed. “Uh, well… you know. Things get around.”
I sighed. “My mother, huh?”
Her face was a story of apology. “Sorry. I didn’t even really ask. She just told me. She only talks about you so much because she loves you, I think.”
“It’s okay.” I grabbed a towel and started cleaning the spots of coffee off the machine. “I should have learned by now that the whole town knows every last detail of my life.”
Kieran didn’t say anything for a moment. A customer stepped up, wanting to purchase a Flannery O’Conner paperback, and Kieran rung the woman up. I kept my back turned, busy grinding and brewing a new pot of coffee since the morning rush had nearly depleted the first carafe.
When Kieran spoke again, her voice made me jump. “Why’d you guys break up?”
I considered telling her she was toeing the line of propriety by asking her boss such a personal question. I didn’t want to be callous, though. She was probably only c
urious because she was trying to gain some objectivity on her own relationship.
I clutched the bag of beans in my hand a little tighter. Claire was the only person I’d ever really discussed Mike with, and I hadn’t exactly been an open book.
“He wanted other things.” My throat burned from the words’ residue.
“Other women?” she asked, probably having no clue whatsoever the fragile subject she was broaching.
I set the coffee beans down. “Probably. He just said he wanted to be free.”
I bit my lip and thought about it some more. Was Mike with another woman now? A steady girlfriend? He’d told me things had been moving too fast with us, getting too serious, but a part of me hadn’t believed that. More than likely, he was just tired of me.
I swallowed hard and turned my back to her, getting busy tearing the coffee bag open. I hadn’t cried at work since I ran the punch stand at the junior high prom, and I wasn’t about to make a habit of it.
“Too bad there aren’t more hot guys in this town,” Kieran mused.
I laughed, the tears in my eyes drying up. “There are a few.”
“You should go out with them.”
“I think I’m ready to get off this subject,” I said as gently as possible.
“What about that guy who came in here the other day?” she asked, totally ignoring me.
“What guy?”
“The one with your dad.”
I turned and looked over my shoulder at her. “My sister’s boss?”
“Is that who he was? Dude, that man is hot.”
I suppressed a sigh. “Yeah. He’s also bad news.”
Her eyes went wide. “How so?”
I didn’t get the chance to answer. The doorbell tinkled and in stepped my mother. She waved excitedly at me and Kieran while she walked over to the counter.
“Slow morning?” she asked.
“Just the last ten minutes. What’s up, Mom?”
She laced her fingers and set them on the counter in front of her. “Well,” she began in that slow way that foretold she was about to bring up something I wasn’t going to like. “I’m going shopping and I thought you might like to come along. I have to get the rest of it done today before your grandparents get into town.”
I hated shopping, which she very well knew. “I have to stay here till at least noon.”
“I can wait.”
I bit the inside of my lip, trying to think of another excuse, but then decided I might as well throw her a bone. If it was important to my mother that I go with her, then I could certainly grin and bear the maze of parking, and the stampede of heavily perfumed women knocking each other over all in the name of a forty percent off cashmere scarf.
“Okay. Matt comes in at noon, and then I can go, as long as we’re not too busy here.”
“Great,” she beamed. “I’ll come pick you up then.”
She exited the shop, leaving only me and Kieran plus the few people browsing the bookshelves.
Kieran waggled an eyebrow at me. “So what were you saying about this guy?”
I made a face, conflicting feelings of wanting to talk about him and wanting to forget he even existed rising in me. “It’s nothing. No big deal. Will you go do inventory of the paper goods?”
I’d done inventory just the other day, but it was time to cut the conversation short. Kieran took a pen and a scrap piece of paper from under the cash register and went to the office/supply room. I got busy tidying up the bar, making each scrub on the counter top harsher than the last. Talking or thinking about Jason was sure to bring up a multitude of thoughts and feelings, but the strongest one of them all was the shirtless image of him from the night before.
My knees shook and I dropped my head down onto my chest. Thank God it was almost Christmas. Soon, he would be gone and I wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again — assuming Claire didn’t make the same mistake twice and invite him home for the next family gathering.
My mother arrived promptly at noon and sat on the sofa chatting up an older woman while she waited for me. Matt stumbled into the shop in his usual state, bleary eyed, shoulders drooping. Just out of high school, he went to the community college in the next town. He was a smart kid, but also a known night owl. I tried never to schedule him for any hours that didn’t have p.m. after them. If he did have to come in before lunch, I’d guarantee he stayed up all night long pounding energy drinks before showing up for his shift.
Kieran had already left, so I gave Matt the general breakdown of the morning while I bundled up. My mother stood as I approached, waving goodbye to the elderly lady.
“That’s Margaret,” she told me, taking my arm and letting me lead us to the door. “Her father used to own this whole block.”
“Cool,” I said, although I didn’t care.
I pushed the door open and squinted in the sunlight. Realizing it was warmer than I expected, I unbuttoned my coat some. My mother’s car was a few spots down and I followed her to it, going ahead and just flat out removing my coat before climbing in.
“Where’s Claire?” I asked. “She didn’t want to come?”
Mom started the car. “She’s sleeping. She said she doesn’t feel well.”
I suppressed a laugh, wondering if our mother had any clue that not “feeling well” meant my sister had a mad hangover.
“Danny’s at a friend’s house,” she continued, giving me the full report. “And Dad and Jason went to get some more wreaths. I thought Grandma would like to decorate them tonight.”
“That sounds nice.” I wished I was picking up some wreaths. Moseying around an outdoor Christmas tree stand was going to be way better than running around the mall like a scared rabbit in Mr. McGregor’s garden. Of course, if we were getting specific, I didn’t want to be picking out wreaths while in the company of Jason. He and I would just switch spots. Since Mom and he were so buddy-buddy after caroling, I was sure he wouldn’t mind doing some shopping with her.
The mall was as horrendous as I expected it to be. We had to drive around the parking lot for fifteen minutes before finding a spot. Once we were inside, the real terror began. We were inundated with workers giving out samples and trying to sell us things from kiosks. I edged up as close as I could to my mother, feeling like a five-year-old. I hated crowds. The irony of that was I loved them in Freddy’s. When the line stretched to the door and the thrum of voices became so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think, I was in my element. In that kind of chaos, all my thoughts and worries melted away and I was forced to focus on whatever task was at hand.
The biggest difference was that I had control over those kinds of crowds. At the mall I had a handle on nothing.
“Let’s see,” Mom murmured. “We’ll go to Bloomingdale’s first. Maybe there’s a nice tie there he might like.”
“Who?” I stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding getting plowed down by a stroller carrying twins.
“Jason.”
“Oh.”
I was silent for a minute. When we got on the escalator to go up, I spoke. “He probably has a lot of ties.”
Her eyes drifted to the side while she gave that some thought. “He needs a lot of them, though. Claire said he works six or seven days a week.”
I tried not to be impressed by that little tidbit.
Then again, maybe he just worked nonstop in an attempt to escape his own worries — like I did. If that was the case, it was anything but impressive.
“Yeah,” I agreed. I was going to shut up. It didn’t matter what mom got for Jason. She was only getting him a present because he happened to be staying with her over Christmas. Other than that, his presence was inconsequential.
We stepped onto the second floor and walked toward the big entrance to the department store.
“Did you have something else in mind for him?” she asked.
I gazed out over the mannequin heads. “No. A tie is fine.”
My mother stopped walking and frowned slightly. “No, I think yo
u’re right. A tie is impersonal.”
“Mom. Forget about it. I don’t know what I was saying.”
“Oh, but you’re so good with gifts, Gwen. Remember that toaster oven you got for us last year?”
I thought a kitchen appliance was a poor example of superb gift giving, but I just smiled weakly. “Yeah.”
“So what do you think Jason would like?”
I crossed my arms, finally giving it some thought. “I don’t know,” I finally said. “I don’t know anything about him.”
“You didn’t ask him about himself? Nothing?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling guilty.
“Oh, Gwen.”
I braced myself, getting ready for the lecture.
“He’s our guest, and he’s been going through a lot. Can you just try to be friendly?”
She stared at me imploringly with those big eyes. Sometimes she seemed more like a fawn that had stumbled out of a Disney film than the woman who had taught me to read and ride a bike.
“I am being friendly,” I argued, a little too fiercely.
Her look was the picture of doubt.
What was I to do? Tell my mom the man hit on me? Wanted a holiday fling?
No, of course not. That was too embarrassing. Plus, she might not believe me, and there was no need to stoke the fire. There was nothing to do but can it.
“A tie is good,” I said. “But maybe something like that, but a little different is better.”
“A bow tie?”
I gave that some thought. Bow ties looked ridiculous on some men. On Jason, they would look hot.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “A bow tie.”
“Wonderful.”
A new mission set before her, she took off for the menswear section. We found a good silk purple bow tie in no time at all, and then decided to go all out with socks and suspenders — which seemed a little geeky, but, again, Jason could pull them off. I drew the line at underwear, although my mother was insistent that men always need more.
I didn’t want to think about Jason and his underwear — especially not the random apartments he might always be leaving his undergarments in, thus leading to him “always needing more.”
Damaged (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 8