It was too late, and I was too tired to care what either of them thought. I just wanted to go to bed. My arms ached, my back hurt, and my feet were numb. Sighing, I trudged back to the grill when I saw Gwen’s head bouncing toward me through the window. She handed over the ticket and went right back to talking about something or other. I nodded and half-listened as the patty sizzled, mumbling something incoherent as I stepped away to prep the bun and dish out fries.
Looking at the clock when she sauntered away with the order, I felt even more tired when I realized I still had an hour to go. What if Baxter fell asleep? I couldn’t hang out here forever. Saul hadn’t given me a key to lock up, so I would be out on the sidewalk when Gwen was ready to head out. I tried to shove the what ifs away and focus on cleaning the kitchen.
The dinner rush had left bits and pieces of dropped bread and toppings scattered on the floor, and grease had popped enough that there was a dull sheen on the counters surrounding the grill. There was a small stack of dishes that still needed to be washed, as well.
Hoping no one else would come in, I set to work cleaning up the mess. Saul had shown me where the mops and brooms and other cleaning supplies were kept earlier, so I headed for the small closet behind the racks of buns. A few minutes later, I was armed with soapy water, mop, broom, dustpan, and grease-melting cleaner in a spray bottle. My mind slowly numbed as I worked.
The counters and grill were sparkling clean a long while later, and the floor was clear of debris, but still sticky in a few places. Dragging the mop bucket into the center of the room, I began sloshing water around the floor. The rhythmic back and forth was calming. I felt my breathing settle into a similar pace, and even though my shoulders and arms were exhausted, it felt good. Until a hand landed on my shoulder and my heart stopped.
Pure panic fueled my movements as I spun away and made a ridiculous attempt to get the mop handle out in front of me to fend off an attack. All I really accomplished was throwing myself off balance so I tripped over the mop end and stumbled back, knocking the dirty water over and landing in a puddle. Baxter stood over me with his eyebrows in his hairline. He shook his head and sighed.
“It’s pretty much impossible for you not to make a mess out of whatever you’re doing, isn’t it?” Scrubbing a hand over his tired face, he pressed his eyes closed before reaching a hand out to me.
Burning with embarrassment and anger at his uncalled for comment, I ignored his hand and crawled over the tipped bucket so I could get back on my feet without his help. Hurt tangled my words and I couldn’t even tell him to shut his damn mouth like I wanted to. Bernadette’s inferences that chaos and danger followed me, and I had brought it to the building, haunted me. Baxter’s words added to the feeling of suffocating inadequacy I didn’t think I could ever escape.
“Eliza, I was just…”
I spun away before he could finish and hid everything churning inside me by righting the mop bucket and pushing it back toward the supply closet to refill it. He was still standing in the same place when I came back with fresh water. “What are you doing back here?” I asked, my voice pleading, begging him to disappear and not be witness to my humiliation.
“The girl out front, she sent me back when I said I was here to pick you up.”
“Well I’m not finished cleaning yet,” I said, embarrassment making my words harsher than necessary. “Go sit at one of the tables until I’m done.”
Baxter huffed and turned on his heel. I didn’t look back at him, but listened closely for the whoosh of the swinging doors to settle. It took everything I had not to sit back down and pout in the dirty water slowly swirling down the drain in the middle of the floor. The last thing I needed was to take too long and have Baxter barge back in here and see me crying. So I sucked it up and finished mopping without a single tear shed.
My clothes were still wet when I pushed the mop and bucket back into the closet. Not interested in having an argument about whether or not Baxter would let me in his car with wet clothes, I dragged myself into the breakroom and fished around in my backpack. In the last week of classes, I had spilled vinaigrette on my pants, had a dish of oily sundried tomatoes dripped into my hair by Rapha the Giant, and had a blender explode in my face because I’d grabbed the wrong lid. After the tomatoes, I’d started keeping an extra set of clothes on hand.
I really needed to do laundry, so the extra clothes I’d crammed into my bag were a pair of black leggings and an old softball shirt that had once been Bernadette’s. Closing the breakroom door, I stood right in front of it so anyone trying to get in would hit me with the door before getting a look at anything, and shimmied in and out of my clothes in record time. After tossing the wet ones into a plastic bag I found on a nearby shelf, I grabbed my things and headed for the front.
Inhaling and then exhaling, I braced myself for more humiliation as I pushed through the swinging doors. Baxter sat at a booth by the wall, his head propped on his hand, eyes closed. Unsure of what to do, I glanced around the dining room for Gwen. Wondering where she had gone, I spotted her near the register, closing out the night’s receipts. When she saw me, she gestured me over with a huge smile parked on her lips.
“Why on earth are you bothering with Sean when you’ve got this hunk hanging around?” she whispered. “He is gorgeous, and so sweet. Seriously, you’re crazy if you’re not all over that.”
“Sweet?” I scoffed. “Baxter is the worst. He’s mean and grouchy and he blames me for everything bad that happens in our building, and he made me fix his sink!”
Gwen cocked her head to the side, not understanding half of what I said. “Well, I thought he was very nice.”
“You ask him out then,” I grumbled. “Maybe he’d be less of a prick if he had a girlfriend.”
I could hope, anyway. Somehow I doubted having a woman in his life would improve Baxter’s temperament. Just looking at me made the vein on his head bulge. He seemed to be more of the perpetual bachelor type, though not so he could party and sleep around. More so he could be left alone and not bothered by silly girls needing rides home or almost getting her head knocked off in the hallway.
“If he’s so awful, why’d he come pick you up from work?” Gwen challenged.
Shrugging, I really didn’t have an answer. “Guilt?”
Gwen laughed, her gaze flicking back to where Baxter was still sleeping. “You have to admit, though, he’s nice to look at.”
That was one thing I didn’t have to think about. The first time I’d met Baxter, he’d burst into Sonya’s office yelling and waving papers around. Even with the excitement, I had noticed his clear green eyes and strong build. Portions of his dark hair were sticking out a little right now, and his mouth was half squashed by his hand, but Gwen was right. “Yeah, he is.”
We both sighed, though probably for different reasons. I tried to imagine facing two murders, an assault, and the continued threat those resulted in with a guy I knew I could count on to keep me safe and wrap me up when I was too scared to go to sleep. Sean was only going to help if it didn’t complicate his life, and Baxter only turned up to blame me for disturbing everything. Saving me seemed like a side note for him. One that only put him in a worse mood than usual.
“Well, I guess I better wake him up so we can get out of here. Do you need help with anything before I go?” I asked.
Gwen shook her head. “No, I’m almost done here and then I’m headed out, too.”
“Do you take the subway?” I questioned, worried about her walking the distance alone.
“Oh no, I have my car parked out back. I’ll lock up the front and just head out that way.”
Shifting to my other aching foot, I asked, “Do you want me to wait for you?”
She waved me off. “I’m fine. My car in literally two steps from the door. Don’t worry about it. Go home and get some rest.” She grinned and tipped her head toward Baxter. “Preferably with that one, if you can.”
Rolling my eyes, I gave her a quick wave and headed f
or Baxter. I paused when I reached the booth, not sure how to wake him without pissing him off. I settled for a timid tap on the shoulder. Baxter startled, jerking his head away from his hand and blinking several times. I jumped back, hoping he wouldn’t yell at me.
Instead of being angry, Baxter’s eyes focused and he stared at me. “Ready?” I nodded and watched as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Good, let’s go.”
I nodded again and followed him like a puppy. Gwen locked the front door behind us and waved goodbye before heading back to finish her task. It was a short walk to the car since Baxter had parked right in front of the entrance. The lights flashed and the car chirped as he unlocked it with the key fob. Not that I was expecting Baxter to get my door or anything, but it annoyed me that he didn’t even consider it or offer. Maybe he was just too tired.
I slid into my seat and shoved my backpack and wet clothes down by my feet. Baxter eyed the plastic bag, then looked over at me. “Are you the laundry girl as well as the fry cook?” His voice always sounded insulting when he spoke to me, but he seemed more confused than anything, so I ignored his tone.
“I didn’t think you’d want me getting into your car in wet clothes,” I said.
“Oh.” His gaze swept over me, making it clear he hadn’t noticed my wardrobe change earlier. “Thanks.”
My brows perked up. Had Baxter just thank me for something? That was definitely from being too tired to think properly. Glancing away from him, I sank into the seat and didn’t look at him. An uncomfortable heat settled in my chest. I hated feeling as if I was beneath Baxter, but I didn’t know why I cared, either. Baxter was nothing to me, not really. If he thought I was a stupid, ridiculous girl, why should that bother me? It shouldn’t. But it did. A lot.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Baxter grumbled. “For scaring you and then saying what I did. I was joking, but it…came out wrong.”
Completely at a loss on how to respond to that, I said, “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Well, it sounded like no one else could,” he said, irritation making his words sharp.
“I tried to get someone else,” I said more quickly than I needed to. “I didn’t want to bother you like this.”
“It’s not a bother,” he snapped. Shaking his head, he tried again. “If you need help, call me. I’d rather it was me who came than you and Sonya both being at risk. Officer Williams seems to be trying to get you killed, and I wouldn’t trust Sean as far as I could throw him.”
Startled by his offer, I was still annoyed by his comment about Sean. “What is your problem with him?”
Baxter glanced over at me, an incredulous expression on his face. His gaze flicked back to the road and his fists tightened on the steering wheel. “My problem with him is that you stick out like stripes on a kangaroo in this city. Anyone who talks to you for more than five seconds knows you’re not a city girl and have no clue about the dangers of living in one. I can’t believe Bernadette dragged you out here and then took off without getting you settled or teaching you the ropes, but that’s beside the point. Sean knows damn good and well that you’re naïve and an easy target. He wants a little fun and comes on all charming and helpful to trick you into thinking he’s a decent guy you can trust. When he gets bored or decides you’re too big of a distraction, he’ll bail.”
That was the most amount of words I had ever heard Baxter say without yelling. After that thought drifted away, his words settled in. “I know,” I said.
Baxter’s head jerked over in surprise. “What?”
“I already know that about Sean. In fact, he pretty much said the exact same thing that night we went out. I meant it when I said he wasn’t my boyfriend. He’s not interested in that and neither am I.” I risked glancing over at him, studying his expression. The mixture of surprise and relief didn’t completely make sense. I watched as it morphed into something darker.
“Have you ever been in a relationship like that?” Baxter asked.
I tried not to squirm, unsure of what Bernadette might have told him about my past. I doubted it was much, but she seemed to really trust him and might have told him the basics. Even still, I didn’t appreciate his unsolicited advice. “What does it matter to you?” I asked.
Shaking his head, Baxter didn’t look directly at me. “Look, it’s just not as easy as it sounds. You think you won’t get hurt, that it won’t mean anything, but that’s not how most people work.”
After hearing that, I was dying to ask him how he knew that, if he was the one who hurt or got hurt. I didn’t really want to know. Neither answer would make me feel better. It was easy to take out all my frustration on Baxter, which seemed to be a mutual thing, so I didn’t want to think of him as this injured puppy. I didn’t want to think of him as the kind of guy who went around tearing women’s hearts out, either. I wasn’t sure which was worse, but considering either one made my head ache.
The rest of the drive passed in silence.
When we pulled up to the building, I got out and shouldered my backpack while clutching my bag of wet clothes to my chest. It wasn’t much as far as protection went, but I wasn’t worried about being attacked. It was protection from Baxter I wanted. He confused and frightened me, though not in a way that made me fear he’d hurt me. I didn’t have the first clue why he was such a jerk all the time. I wasn’t about to ask, either. More than that, I didn’t know why he seemed to hate me, yet picked me up tonight and sounded pretty pissed off at my sister for not preparing me for all this. Why care?
Baxter unlocked the door to the building and held it for me. I slipped through with my eyes down and made for the stairs as he followed and locked the door behind him. Thinking he’d be glad to be rid of me, I didn’t expect him to appear next to me a few seconds later. He looked exhausted, yet he’d hurried to catch up. A quick glance in his direction showed nothing in his expression but a stark weariness. It wasn’t until we passed Ms. Sinclair’s empty apartment that either of us spoke.
“Your place or mine?” Baxter asked, his voice sounding as enthusiastic as my drooping shoulders looked.
I glanced over at him in surprise. “What?” I shook my head. “I just needed a ride. I’ll be fine in my apartment. Alone.”
Baxter rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Did the guy see you tonight?”
“I…I’m not sure.” I wanted to say no, that I was going to be completely safe in my apartment all night. The words stuck to the roof of my mouth like a poorly balanced PB&J sandwich. “Maybe,” I admitted. “He ordered his food to dine in, then packed it all up and took off.” I shrugged, wishing I had a better answer.
Nodding, Baxter gave me a push down the hall. “You’re staying with me tonight. Your couch is way too small for me to sleep on.”
“I’ll be fine,” I argued, my heart rate speeding up at the thought of not only being in Baxter’s apartment, but spending the night there.
Baxter turned on me. “Would you please stop arguing with me?” he snapped. “You are not safe on your own, and Bernadette’s couch is just about the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever slept on. I told her to get rid of it a year ago.” He waved his hand in frustration, shaking his head to refocus his thoughts while I wondered why on earth Baxter had been sleeping on my sister’s couch a year ago.
“I’m tired,” Baxter growled as he unlocked his apartment door and shoved it open, “and I have another long day tomorrow, so can we please stop arguing about stupid things and just go to bed?”
“Look, I appreciate the ride home, but I don’t expect you to babysit me,” I said. “I’ve caused enough trouble for you already. I’ll be fine at my place, really.”
Looking up at the ceiling as he shook his head, when he turned back to me his gaze was hard. “If this guy comes back, it won’t be to cut up any more mattresses. It will be to make sure you can’t identify him. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, but…”
“You may be a pain in the ass to have around most of the time, b
ut having one neighbor murdered is plenty. I do not want to wake up in the morning to police banging on my door, asking me if I know who killed you,” he said. “Now get inside and go to sleep, please.”
Baxter turned toward his door and pushed in without waiting for me. Maybe my being murdered would be nothing more than an inconvenience to him, but to Bernadette it would be crushing. If the intruder came back to finish me off, I’d be safer with Baxter than anywhere else in the building. It was because of what my death would do to my sister that I gave in. Stepping into his apartment quietly, I shut and locked the door behind me.
Baxter was already halfway across the apartment. He disappeared into what I assumed was his bedroom if the layout matched my apartment. I just stood there with my hands gripping my bags. Had he gone to bed? Should I ask him for a blanket or lie down on the couch and not bother him? Not bother him, right? Like I needed Baxter to be more pissed off at me than he already was.
Tiptoeing toward the couch, I set my backpack and clothes down quietly and picked up a throw pillow. I set the pillow against the armrest so I’d have something to lay my head on. Baxter’s couch did look much more comfortable than the one in my apartment. I couldn’t stop thinking about why Baxter slept on Bernadette’s couch. It occurred to me that they might have been seeing each other at one point, but why would he have been on the couch instead of in bed with her? I shivered at that thought. I did not want to consider my sister and Baxter sleeping together in my bed. Gross.
“What are you doing?” Baxter demanded as I started to lie down on the couch.
I jumped up and stared at him. “Just, laying down,” I said slowly.
Baxter sighed and shook his head. He dropped the blanket he’d been carrying onto the cushion next to me. “I’m not making you sleep on my couch.” The words sounded chivalrous, but his tone certainly wasn’t. “Get up. I’m taking the couch.”
Even knowing how much it annoyed him when I argued, I couldn’t help myself. “I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
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