by Caisey Quinn
“I don’t have a crush on anyone. But yes, I’m all grown up now. Thanks for noticing. Your point?”
“I’m just saying, if you want this job, like really want it, I can help you. But if this is just a way to get closer to a man who will eventually shatter your sweet little heart and soul, I think you should stick to dog walking and keep your distance.”
I turn my cup around and around in my hands then stir it with my straw. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find him attractive. I do have eyes you know. But it’s not about that. It’s about being taken seriously, about having my own career, one where I don’t have to scoop dog poop in front of everyone at the park, and one where I will actually be a part of the Wildlife Defense Alliance. I’d get benefits, insurance, paid time off, and everything.”
Her expression warms and her eyes soften. “I understand, Hollis. For the record, I think you deserve whatever makes you happy. And I don’t know your boss, other than seeing him fight years ago on television, but if you did want something more with him, he’d be a damn fool to turn you down.”
I shake my head. “I could never…I’m not…” The thought of me and Jonah, in that way, has me tongue-tied. “I’m not his type, Addi. He doesn’t see me that way. Trust me.”
She smiles but there’s something patronizing about it. “He has eyes, you know. And he’s a man. I’d bet my Louis Vuitton bag he’s imagined the two of you together in many ways.”
She’s wrong. I tried once.
One very humiliating attempt a year ago, after I brought Zeus back from the vet, Jonah and I played a racing game on his fancy game console while he waited for his date to arrive. We were having so much fun—throwing popcorn at the screen, laughing at his temper tantrum when I beat him (perk of having two older brothers), talking about the dogs—I got caught up and lost my head. I leaned against him, and when the laughter subsided, our eyes met and I thought it was A Moment.
It wasn’t.
I leaned in to kiss him or to let him kiss me and he moved, standing abruptly when the doorbell rang. I nearly fell off the couch and he left with his date as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
He called out “don’t forget to lock up when you leave,” and the words stabbed a soft spot I didn’t know I’d had.
After that night, a gallon of caramel cheesecake swirl ice cream and half a pint of Jack Daniels, I closed myself off to ever thinking of him in that way.
Yeah, he’s sexy, successful, and slightly dangerous. But he’s also guarded, complicated, and I’m certain his sexual appetite far surpasses the abilities of a virgin who still lives with her parents.
It was probably for the best that nothing had happened.
“Give me a piece of paper,” Addi demands, yanking me out of my memory. “And a pen.”
“You have an eleven hundred dollar purse and you don’t have a pen in it?” I know the price because my brother saved up months of his cop salary to get it for her last Christmas. And he still brings it up anytime she asks for something new.
She clutches the bag in question lovingly to her chest. “You don’t put ink pens—that could leak ink—in Louis.”
I hand her a pen “Here.” I continue to dig through my bag. “I have paper in here somewhere.”
I know I recently jotted down a recipe for lemon blueberry vegan muffins for Jonah on a piece of the stationary he gave me. It should still be in my purse.
When I locate and produce it, she takes it eagerly. I watch as she flips the recipe over to the blank side, places the pen to her lips for a second, then begins writing furiously.
“First, you need to go to the adult toy store, Hollis. Forget Jonah. You need to go for yourself.” She scribbles out something I can’t decipher from where I’m sitting. “You’ve had the same vibrator for years. Get a couple new ones and try them out. Trust me, you’ll see colors you haven’t seen before.”
“Jesus, Addi.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, you might see Him too.”
I nearly choke on my drink.
Addi is the sister I never had and always wanted. She’s not everyone’s cup of tea—she’s crass, loud, and opinionated—but she’s mine and I love her. No way I could talk to Mikey or Tony about this stuff. They don’t like me walking Jonah’s dogs, they sure wouldn’t want me buying his sex toys.
“Let’s see.” She raps the pen loudly against the table before diving back into her list. “Next up, lingerie. Oh yeah, this will show him. Dalton ain’t got shit on you.”
Finishing my drink while she continues, I watch her scrawling in her large loopy-lettered handwriting until she’s out of room.
When she’s finished, I reach for it, but she holds it to her chest.
“I want you to have an open-mind, Hollis. Remember, this is your career we’re talking about. Your livelihood. I know it’s a lot to take in. But remember, what your ma says. How do you eat an elephant?”
I’m growing impatient. “One bite at a time. Lemme see what you got.”
“That’s right.” She places the list on the table and I feel my eyes go wide as I take in her instructions.
Lifting it as if it might self-destruct in my hands, I glance up at her. “You’re sure this is…I mean…how am I supposed to…” I set it back down and shake my head.
Her list is short but each task is crazier than the last.
Buy an adult toy. Buy a couple and test them out so you can give him a full consumer report. The curved pink silicone one in the black box with the small piece on the top is my favorite. It’s waterproof. Use it in the bathtub or shower for best results.
Model the sexiest lingerie you can find. Use your best ASSets. Bet Dalton won’t go the extra mile like you can.
Break a law to get him something he needs. Shows dedication and that you’re not as goody two shoes as he thinks you are.
Find out his deepest, darkest secret and keep it safe. Show him he can trust you.
Forgive him when he does something stupid—which he will because he’s a man. Show him you can handle him and the job without messy female emotions getting in the way.
Speaking of, don’t, no matter what happens, fall in love with him. You can’t make love to him ever! But if you fuck him, I want details. No prolonged eye contact. Be sure to sit on his handsome face.
“You’re insane,” I say when I finally meet her waiting stare. “Completely.” I fold her ridiculous list and toss it back into my purse. “You know I can’t do those things. And you’re the wife of a law enforcement officer telling me to break the law. Nice, Addi.”
“What? I’m telling you, that’s it. Right there. The key to this job you want. No way in hell he wouldn’t give it to you after all that. The job and some D if you want it.”
I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
“You tried to talking to him, right?” I don’t nod because I already feel like a bobble head, but she knows the answer so she continues. “He thinks you’re too pure for his world. The only way you’re getting what you want is if you prove him wrong, Hol. You’ve been working for him for two years and how much upward mobility has there been? Um, none. So either put your big girl panties on and get to it, or find a job elsewhere that doesn’t involve dog shit.”
A small voice inside me says she’s right. Maybe I could do the first three or four on the list. Maybe even five.
Six has jammed itself into my brain.
I could never sit on Jonah’s face.
Addi is just being Addi. Surely she included that one as a joke.
I inhale a lung full of courage. “You’re right. I can do this.”
I will do it. I’ll show him. And I’ll get this job and finally start my actual adult life that includes my own condo and a viable career.
“I know you can,” she says while sliding out of the booth. “I have to get to work but keep me posted, okay? You got this.”
“Sucks that we both work on Saturdays.”
Addi scrunches her petite fea
tures. “I know, precious. We need a girls’ weekend. Maybe one day. When we’re rich and famous.”
She owns a small shop where she does hair. Salon Blonde is where she met my brother three years ago when he came in for a haircut and came out with her phone number. I make a mental note to get her to trim my ends soon.
“Here’s to one day,” I say, knocking my empty drink cup against hers. We share a quick goodbye hug and I toss my empty cup in the barrel on the way out.
The sharp, cold December wind stings my face as I step onto the sidewalk.
I should be freezing since I forgot my jacket in the car, but the mental image of modeling lingerie for Jonah has me warming up from the inside out.
I look at the list again once I’m alone in my car.
It’s a very naughty list. But Addi is right. My way didn’t work and he shut me down completely.
Number six makes me hot all over.
I’m practically sweating by the time I make it to pick up the dogs.
5
HOLLIS
CHECKING IT TWICE
Monday morning I make Jonah the lemon blueberry vegan muffins in hopes of softening him for another conversation about the assistant position.
My phone chimes on the counter. I wipe my hands on a towel and retrieve it. When I click on the text notification, I see a message from Addi.
How’s the naughty list coming?
Leaning against the counter, I message her back.
I dropped off his dry cleaning and walked the dogs Saturday afternoon like always. He wasn’t home. I haven’t see him since he shut me down Friday. I’m taking him muffins this morning.
Addi sends back the eye roll emoji. Then, I didn’t say shit about muffins. Unless you’re letting him butter yours, muffins won’t make a difference.
I shake my head as if she can see me.
I don’t want to get this position on my back. I want it because I deserve it.
She doesn’t respond right away so I get the muffins out of the oven and place them on the cooling rack.
They look gorgeous, the perfect shade of golden with bluish-purple berries bursting in the light, fluffy cake. I break one in half and blow on it.
Since working for Jonah, I’ve been trying a lot of new Vegan recipes. My family hasn’t loved them, but I’ve enjoyed a few I’ve made so far.
Before I take a bite, Addi’s response comes through.
Making a man muffins is the equivalent of saying come see how sweet I taste, big boy.
She’s a mess.
Granted, she’s a lot more knowledgable about the opposite sex than me. But no one’s buttering any muffins. I am going to show Jonah that I can handle everything he thinks I can’t.
I update her on my progress.
I made an extremely productive trip to the adult toy store Saturday night and I spent yesterday compiling data.
Her response comes quickly.
Sore?
Actually, my clit kind of is. I send the laughing emoji and A little. Heading to the lingerie store you recommended later today.
She sends back Good luck.
I send a winky face.
I can do this.
Biting into a muffin, I moan because it’s amazing. The perfect mix of sugary sweetness, lemony tartness, and a melt in your mouth explosion of blueberry goodness.
I got this.
I so got this.
Jonah’s kitchen is a chef’s wet dream. Granite and stainless steel from floor to ceiling.
After I use my key to let myself into his high-rise apartment, I set the muffins on the counter. My parents’ house is a good twenty-minutes away with traffic, so they aren’t as fresh and warm as they were out of the oven, but they’re still good. Apparently they’re still quite fragrant because Achilles begins mauling me the second he gets a whiff.
“Down, boy,” I command.
“That’s what she said,” Jonah mutters, sauntering into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
“Good morning to you, too. Want coffee with your muffins?”
This isn’t this first time I’ve seen him like this, but my heart and lungs have no chill.
He nods and I busy myself making his breakfast even though I’m technically only here for the dogs.
Even when I’m not looking, the image of his bare chest is burned behind my retinas.
He’s solid muscle, every inch of him rock hard definition moving rhythmically as he uses a hand towel to dry his hair. He passes close beside me to toss it into the laundry room and I stand stock still.
Focus.
If I get the job as his assistant, seeing him half dressed could be part of my morning routine. I cannot show him an ounce of weakness.
But tearing my eyes away from the masterpiece that is his body is no easy task.
Once I finish his coffee in the French press and hand it over, I fix mine, pouring it over ice and adding lots of sweetened creamer while allowing myself one more indulgent glance.
He checks something on his phone, turning his back to me. Across the width of his shoulders is the infamous X from his name. What it stands for, the world may never know. He turns to sit one of the barstools, and I see the animal tattoos that adorn his chest. He told me once that they are the first ones he rescued on his travels. Wolves, an eagle, a leopard, and a raven. Some tribal symbols from the people he met. Down his arms the wildlife transforms into boxing gloves that I’ve never asked about. On his other shoulder is a shattered American flag, which he told me he got when he found out an issue with his spine wouldn’t allow him to go into the Marine Corps.
Somewhere in the mix of his left sleeve is a compass, a clock, and on his forearm there’s a number—six digits he’s also never mentioned the meaning of. 032513. His left ribcage contains an Irish flag, which I’ve always assumed has to do with his heritage. There are latin words below the X on his back and I Googled them once. They mean ‘son of no one,” and also ‘outsider,’ which broke my heart when I saw the translation. It still breaks my heart a little now.
All of it seems so random, but on his skin it’s somehow seamless. Perfect.
The illustrated history of the illusive Jonah X.
“Damn, these are good,” Jonah says after swallowing a mouthful of muffin. I’m pulled from my greedy perusal and in need of oxygen. Apparently I haven’t been breathing.
“I’m glad you like them. It’s a new recipe.”
“I love them. I could eat them all right now, but I need to get to the office. You swear they’re vegan?”
I laugh. He says this every time I make something he enjoys. I think his switch to veganism came from bonding with endangered animals and now he feels wrong eating meat. But I know he misses it. I’ve caught him salivating over my ma’s meatball sandwiches at lunch. I told him cows weren’t endangered but he just shook his head.
“I swear. I have the recipe with me if you don’t believe me.”
“Let’s see it,” he challenges.
I can understand why. The last vegan muffins I tried to make tasted like cardboard. Jonah said the paper wrappers probably tasted better.
I fish it out of my purse and set it on the counter.
“Look.” I point at the recipe. “Flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, lemon zest, salt, almond milk, vanilla, lemon juice, and fresh blueberries. The streusel on top has some vegan butter in it, but that’s everything. Promise.”
He leans close enough that I can smell the sharp clean scent of his body wash and expensive aftershave.
“Huh. Well they’re way better than the last ones.” He inhales another one.
My teeth dig into my lower lip and tug. “Um, yeah. I over-mixed those. And I didn’t know you were supposed to mix your wet and dry ingredients separately. This recipe had more detailed instructions than the last one.”
His eyes drop to my mouth while I’m speaking but I’m not sure why. Jonah doesn’t see me like that. He never looks at my mouth.
May
be the way to his heart really is through his stomach.
“Can I keep this?” He retrieves the recipe from the countertop. “I might have Erma make a big batch for some friends of mine.”
Erma is his housekeeper and she’s an amazing cook. She’s the same age as my grandpa. I tried to set them up once before his Alzheimer’s got bad.
“Mmhm.” I’m temporarily stunned from the way he was openly watching my lips move. His eyes meet mine and our faces are still close enough to touch.
“Thanks. Don’t give the dogs any of my muffins,” he teases, finally breaking eye contact.
I glance down at my feet. Zeus gave up long ago but Achilles is still staring longingly up at me.
Jonah moves to exit the kitchen with the recipe in hand and my brain resumes full function once he’s out of my personal space.
“Jonah, wait.”
He turns, his hip bones doing that sexy V thing that make my mouth water.
“I actually need the recipe back.” My body shifts into panic mode as he regards me warily. “I’ll type you up a cleaner copy. I need to make a few adjustments anyway, maybe add some canola oil, and I can’t remember what website I got that one from.”
My heart is racing and my words are coming out on top of one another.
Jonah’s bewildered expression says I’m acting as crazed as I feel.
He doesn’t make a move to give it back.
“Jonah, seriously. I need that one. Please.”
I have no poker face. I’m practically begging and that is not like me.
“You need it?” He cocks his head to the side, amusement dancing in his eyes.
For a few seconds, I worry he’s going to pull some big brother crap on me—hold it over my head and make me jump for it or something. I get enough of that from Mikey and Tony. I definitely don’t need it from Jonah.
Thankfully he just shakes his head and starts to hand it back to me.