by BJ Harvey
The corner of his mouth curls up, his eyes dropping to my mouth as he does it.
“You know I’m right,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’ve watched you at work and you have a fan club almost every night, but not once have I seen you take up any of the offers sent your way. Then tonight, I heard that guy talk shit and I had to do a double take when I saw it was you sitting opposite him.”
I take umbrage with his insinuation. “I can hold my own.”
Leaning forward, he reaches across and gives my knee a gentle squeeze, a touch I feel in a lot of places other than my leg. “I know you can, and I had no doubt you would’ve let that guy have it. But I’m not a man to stand by and watch a woman I know get disrespected that way. “
“We barely know each other,” I whisper.
“I know you, Gaby. I’ve watched you five nights a week for the past six months. I know you, even if I haven’t let you know me.”
“Why is that?” I blurt out, hoping he’ll answer.
“Long story.”
“Wanna tell me about it?” I say, suddenly finding myself wanting to know him.
His lips quirk. “You asking because you feel you have to or because you want to?”
There’s a challenge, if ever I’ve heard one. It’s almost as if he’s offered me a step up onto his wall, and damn if I don’t wanna take it. But something stops me. “We work together,” I say.
“Yep, and I still don’t give a fuck about that. You, though—you’re someone I want to know more about, so whatever it takes to get that opportunity, I’m there.”
I hesitate, and he doesn’t miss it.
His fingers brush against my leg once more before he pulls away, that offered step retreating as he does. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says, opening the driver’s door and hopping out.
I feel like I just missed an opportunity few people get when it comes to Bruno.
And standing in my doorway while I watch him walk back to his car, I wonder if it’s finally time I took a chance on something—or someone—completely and totally unexpected. Something unpredictable. Someone I never saw coming.
Someone like Bruno.
Chapter 2
As luck would have it, after not seeing Bruno outside of work at all in six months, I run into him the following week in the produce section of the grocery store.
What’s not fortunate for me is that I came straight from a spin class at the gym so I’m wearing a “just been wrecked by a bicycle” look, comprising of a messy top knot, flushed cheeks, and a baggy tee over the top of my damp-with-sweat tank and workout pants. Whereas he’s wearing a rock band tee, cargo shorts, and sneakers, looking like he just stepped out from a photo shoot for a magazine.
I make the decision to own it and walk right up to him, where he’s choosing bananas. “Hey”
He looks up, and a smile brightens his already gorgeous face. “Hi,” he replies, placing a bunch in his shopping cart.
“You know they say that placing your bananas facing up means you’re single and looking.”
He glances down at the face-up fruit, then back up at me. “Huh. Well I guess I better watch out then. You never know whose attention I might attract.”
“Yep. It’s like advertising that you’re fresh meat.” I lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “You better watch out for the man-ivores in the dairy aisle. They’re ravenous.”
He drops his head back and laughs. “Maybe I’ll need your protection. Where are you headed?”
“To the dairy aisle, of course.”
His answering grin is contagious. He’s not a man who smiles often and that’s a damn shame because when he does, it’s breathtaking.
“Heard from your date from the other night?” he asks, moving forward and picking up an apple.
“He may have sent me a bunch of roses. I gave them to my Mom, she loved them.”
His eyes crinkle. “At least he’s smart enough to learn from his mistakes.”
“Leopards don’t change their spots. They change camouflage for their next victim.”
He grimaces and nods. “Unfortunately, that’s true. At least he won’t underestimate a woman like you any time soon. I swear, I was about to order you another drink just to watch you throw it in his face.”
I giggle. “And waste a good drink on the man? I’d rather you’d just offered to buy me the drink to recover from my date.”
I realize what I’ve said as soon as the words leave my lips. My heart races as his brown eyes flash with heat.
“I’ll make a note of that for the next time I come across you on a bad date.”
“You do that. But I don’t date, so it’s not likely.” I can’t wipe the smile off my face. This banter is what a girl like me lives for. It’s the pre-game warm-up that takes a man from the benches to the starting line-up.
A man who’s good with his mouth in speech is often good with his mouth in other ways, and Bruno is ticking boxes I didn’t know he could tick right now.
“That’s a shame.”
A comfortable silence stretches between us as he bags up his apples and I reach for my own bunch of bananas, making sure I face them up just to make a point—one I know he doesn’t miss as he glances in my cart before looking back to my face.
“So you already know where I live. Do you live close by?” I ask.
“A few blocks north of here actually.”
“Near the university campus?” He nods and I shake my head. “Poor you. Bet your building is anything but quiet.”
“It’s mostly students but I work most nights so by the time I get home, they’re generally giving up and sleeping.”
“Better you than me. I live for my sleep-ins. Late to bed, late to rise. I’ve always been that way. Used to drive my mother round the bend.” Why am I talking about my bedtime habits with this man? And why am I suddenly wanting him to want to know all about them?
“Good to know,” he says. “Are you telling me that for future reference?”
Shit, is it getting hot in here?
“Maybe . . .” I reply coyly, wondering how I’ve never seen this side of Bruno before. He’s charming, and a flirt, and there’s this look in his eyes full of dirty promises any woman lucky enough to see would want to dive right into.
Yes, I’m jumping on board the Bruno appreciation train, and it’s beyond the physical attraction that’s always lain dormant between us. I definitely want to get to know this man, and I want him to let me get to know him. Usually, I’m a once-and-done kind of girl, but for him, it’s a rule I’d be happy to break.
“Gaby?”
Shit, I must have zoned out. “Sorry.” I shake my head and focus back on him.
“I just asked if you were working tonight?”
“Not tonight. I’m covering for Kenzie next weekend for her date with Millen, so we swapped shifts. I’m doing boring adult things today before dinner at my parents. How about you?”
“Well I’m not going to dinner at your parents. I like to date a girl at least once before taking that next step.”
He’s funny. I laugh, and reach for some tomatoes. “I meant are you working tonight?”
“Yeah, four till closing. Won’t be nearly as much fun without you there to look at, though.”
“Oh, and why’s that?” I ask with a wide smile. “Are you saying Kenzie isn’t good enough?”
He leans down and brings his lips close to my ear. “I’m saying I’d rather be looking at you.”
Um. Wow. I never would’ve imagined Bruno being such a good flirt. He should’ve sat down and given Greg a lesson.
“You watch me?” My voice is breathy.
He straightens, and one side of his mouth tips up. “I wasn’t lying when I said I pay attention.”
“Apparently not.”
“Maybe now, you’ll just be more aware of it.” He grabs hold of his cart and starts wheeling it away. “See you around, Gabs. I’ll be the one in
the dairy section.”
Thankfully, I recover quickly, shooting him a smirk. “Maybe I’ll rescue you.”
“Maybe instead of rescuing, you could just come find me anyway.” Then he disappears from sight, leaving me standing with a bag of tomatoes in one hand and a stupid, goofy grin on my face.
Color me intrigued because after that little tête-à-tête, Bruno has definitely captured my attention.
I don’t come across him again—much to my disappointment—and head home to my apartment to do all of the weekly chores I can’t do on a work day before making my dad’s favorite ambrosia dessert and driving to my parents’ house in Sacramento.
Walking through their front door, I’m hit with the smell of garlic and instantly feel at home. This may not be the house I grew up in, but it’s the people within it and the memories shared with them that make anywhere my family are ‘home’ for me.
It’s always been that way. My brother, Hamish, alternates between Colorado and Davis every six months with his husband but even visiting him feels just as much like home as my parents’ place.
“Hello,” I call out, closing the door behind me and walking into the living room to find my father in his recliner watching a baseball game.
“Hey Dad.” I drop my purse on the couch and balance the glass bowl I brought with me in my other hand before bending down and kissing his cheek.
“Hey, bub. You’re just in time. We’re at the bottom of the sixth and the bases are fully loaded.”
“Mmm hmm,” I reply uninterested. “You know my opinion about baseball.”
“Oh shh,” he says, shooing me away. “As I’ve always said, don’t let one rotten egg spoil your enjoyment of the game.”
He was more than a rotten egg. He was everything to me, until he couldn’t be anything to anyone except himself.
Needing to change the subject, I turn toward the kitchen where I’m hoping my mom is. If there’s anyone who can save me from Dad and his favorite sport, it’s her. “I’ll just go see if Mom needs any help with dinner.”
Dad snorts and shakes his head at me. “I see right through you, bub. But I’ll let you get away with it.”
“You always do,” I reply with a smirk.
“Shoo then. I’m happy to take that bowl of dessert off your hands, though.” His grin is wide and mischievous.
“I don’t think so, mister. I’m sure you can wait.” I wink at him and make my way into the hallway and down to the kitchen at the back of the house.
Mom is standing at the counter sprinkling some cheese over the top of a salad when I walk through the doorway. A huge smile spreads on her face when she sees me. “There’s my beautiful girl.”
I put the ambrosia on the counter and wrap my arms around her waist, giving her a hug. “Missed you,” I say before separating from her.
Mom, being Mom, stops me as I pull away, her narrowed eyes studying me. “What’s wrong?”
My head jerks back in surprise. “Nothing. Why?”
“You look tired.”
“Because I am tired. I worked late last night.”
“You don’t get enough sleep.”
“I do. Just not on Sunday mornings when there are farmers’ markets to visit and spin classes to try and kill myself in,” I reply with a grin.
“You need a man.”
“Mom . . .” My voice is low and laced with resignation. This “you need to be looked after” spiel has been shared more frequently the further from thirty I get. Given I’m only approaching thirty-two, I foresee a future where Mom starts calling me weekly just to remind me of my single status.
“What?” she says, one hand on her heart as she feigns innocence. “You’re a catch. Any man would be lucky to have you.” Now I’m thinking about Bruno again. “Not all women want to be had.”
She rolls her eyes and carries the salad over to the fridge.
“You can deny it but it doesn’t mean it’s true. Although . . .” she says, spinning around to face me, “any man brave enough to take you on would either be a masochist or have a death wish.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Mom!”
Of course she just shrugs. If anyone wonders where I get my sassy attitude and smart mouth from, they need look no further than the woman who gave birth to me.
“Look, I admit I’m a handful. In fact, I warned your father before he married me that there would never be a dull day in his life again if he stuck around.”
“And she wasn’t wrong,” Dad says, walking around me toward Mom. “I just learned that a quick slap on the ass keeps her in line.”
To prove his point, he demonstrates said ass-slapping, earning a groan from me and a shriek from Mom. Both of which he was aiming for, if the grin on his face is anything to go by.
“What I meant, Gaby, is that even the most stubborn, independent, and perfectly capable woman likes to be ‘had.’”
“Mom, let’s not talk about the birds and the bees again. We had the talk over twenty years ago, and I’ve learned a few things myself since then.”
Now it’s Dad’s turn to groan. “Women!” he says, throwing his hands up in the air and walking out of the room.
Mom and I look at each other before we both burst out laughing.
“He never could accept that his little girl had grown up,” I say.
“He probably never will. That’s what fathers do. They forever see their daughters as the newborn in their arms who’ll always need their protection. Not thirty-two-year-old women who own their own house, pay their own bills, and have a damn good head on their shoulders,” Mom states, and she’s not wrong.
“So what happens when they become grandfathers?”
Mom’s eyes widen like saucers and as hard as I try, I can’t keep a straight face any longer.
“Gotcha!” I laugh.
She clutches her chest and shakes her head. “See, us Wallace women are a handful. You more so than me.”
I walk over and wrap my arm around Mom’s shoulders, pulling her into my side. “And I don’t think we could be any other way.”
“I almost pity the man who takes you on,” she says, turning her head to plant a soft kiss in my hair.
I grin, a picture of Bruno flashing in my mind. “I already do.”
Let’s be honest, with my Mack truck-load of baggage, it would take more than a brave man to rise to the challenge.
After the last two encounters with Bruno Duncan, I guess time will tell whether he’s that kind of man.
The crazy kind. The masochistic kind. The brave kind.
Maybe the exact kind of man I need.
Chapter 3
It’s been a week and Bruno hasn’t made a move. In fact, he hasn’t acted any different toward me. He’s clocked in on time, and he’s hung around after closing and escorted us girls to the parking lot—nothing he hasn’t done every other night he’s worked at the bar.
With Greg, I decided to take a chance and test the dating water on the slim chance I was missing out on something. I definitely got more than I bargained for in the form of Bruno and his whatever-that-was in the car and then again at the grocery store. I know people like to separate their personal and professional lives but this is getting to be beyond a joke. It’s like dangling a carrot in front of a hungry horse and not letting him take a bite. Now, watching the man across the rooftop from me, I can’t help but pay attention.
Dating has always confused me, one of the many reasons I’ve avoided it for the last five years now. That happens when you spend over a third of your life with someone who doesn’t turn out to be the man you thought you’d be with forever. Or in my case, the man you thought you’d be with forever turns out to be a man not wanting to spend forever with you.
After the chance encounter at the grocery store, I want to more than know Bruno. This ‘paying attention’ malarkey must be contagious, because whenever I’m in the same room as him now, I can’t stop myself from watching him back.
It’s beyond a basal physical attraction too. I had that the minute I first saw the guy.
I haven’t even caught any long glances or sneaky looks—whenever I’ve been doing that exact same thing, of course—and after this long, I’m starting to think I imagined our conversation in the car. Of the two small glimpses of a different side to him he’s given me, I’m wondering if they were just snapshots with a limited lifespan rather than a sneak peek of what I was missing out on.
Men. Can’t live with them, can’t work them the fuck out.
“Why the sudden desire to throw an impromptu Sunday afternoon bonding session?” Kenzie asks from her seat beside me. I’m sitting around a big table on the bar’s rooftop, with Kenzie, Millen—her potential new man/former customer/man toy—Bruno, and our workmates Sadie, Sam, Dinah, Mark, Dalyn, and Jake. The plan being to sit back and enjoy the afternoon sun with a few beers and some food.
I turn and shrug. “Can’t a girl initiate a social gathering with friends and not be subjected to the Spanish inquisition?”
“They can, but it’s you, and you never do things without purpose. You are the queen of reasoning. In fact, you’re often neurotic in your decision making process.”
“Well not this time. I just thought we could all do with some downtime.” She eyes me skeptically but thankfully lets it slide. I haven’t had a chance to delve into the depths of the confusion that is my future love life since just a few days after my date, Kenzie came face-to-face with her own new bright and shining object of interest in Millen.
There’s also the whole ‘don’t screw the crew’ conundrum, and Kenzie is both my best friend and my boss. I don’t want to cause concern when there’s no concern to be caused. Yet . . .
“So how was that date of yours last week?” Sadie asks, causing Kenzie to snort.
I smile around the lip of my bottle. “One could say it was the worst first date I’d ever been on.”
“Oh well, you’ve gotta wade through the frogs to find the prince, right?” Sam adds. With a mind of their own, my eyes drift to Bruno who’s leaning forward, seemingly deep in conversation with Millen.
“What company? I was born and bred in San Francisco,” he says to Millen, and my ears prick up. I’m may be listening to the conversation between the girls but Bruno’s slip of personal information grabs my attention. Six months working with the guy and he hasn’t shared anything about himself with anyone. Yet tonight, he gives an almost stranger a vital piece of his history. Even more confusing is that I always thought he was from the East Coast. I make a note to somehow take a look at his personnel record next time I’m in the office alone. Unethical? Sure. Illegal? Probably. Something I’m gonna do anyway? Absolutely.