Sweet Talker

by Robin Bielman

  The demands of Ireland’s job combined with her self-centeredness put strains on her relationship with Grant. Not to say Grant was perfect. He wasn’t. He was a stressed single dad who was noticing someone besides his girlfriend.

  I wasn’t an innocent bystander. I loved Rylee. I liked Grant. A lot. But I never would have acted on it. When he did, I should have put an immediate stop to it.

  Instead, Ireland walked into Grant’s house and found him kissing the living daylights out of me and my hands in his hair. It was our first and last kiss.

  Needless to say, I was fired. She and Grant broke up. Not because of our kiss. She wanted me gone, not him, but Grant broke up with her because of Rylee. Ireland didn’t care about her the way she should.

  “Hello?” I say picking up the phone now. It’s late and Grant wouldn’t be calling if there wasn’t a good reason.

  “Hi, Pascale.”

  “Hey. Is everything okay?” I turn my back to the dining room. To Ethan.

  “Yeah. Thanks for picking up the phone. I figured it’s been a few months and Rylee really wanted to call to say thank you for her care package this month. I hope that’s okay.”

  “She’s still awake?”

  “Daddy! My turn,” comes through in the background.

  I smile. “Put her on.”

  “Thank you for my books!” she shouts. “I love them!”

  “You’re welcome.” Every month I send a small box with a new reading book, a coloring book, and a note. I wanted her to know that just because I had to leave, didn’t mean I didn’t care about her or think about her all the time. “How’s school?”

  “It’s easy, so Miss Brown gives me extra homework.”

  “She does? What kind of homework?”

  “Cussword puzzles and paint-by-number pictures.”

  Grant clears his throat in the distance. “She means crossword.”

  “No, I mean cussword. Me and Daddy found a bad word in one. A-S-S,” she half-whispers, cute as can be. “Did you know that’s a donkey, too? When I said the word out loud, Daddy told me I was too little to cuss.”

  “He’s right,” I say, trying not to laugh.

  “Now I always look for that word in my homework. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Miss Brown doesn’t know it’s there!” She cackles like that’s the funniest thing ever. “I have to go to sleep now. I hope you can come visit me. I miss you. Okay, bye!”

  “Bye! Miss you, too.”

  “Thanks, Pascale,” Grant says, coming back on the line. “I hope you’re doing well.”

  I sense someone at my back. Ethan. “You, too. Thanks for calling. Talk again soon. Bye,” I say, rushing to hang up. I place my phone face down on the desk.

  Sure enough, Ethan and his friend are standing beside the station. He steps into my space to check the reservation book. “Pascale, this is Meredith. Meredith, Pascale.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says.

  “Likewise.” Meredith is stunning with bright blue eyes and jet-black hair. Her clothes look designer and fit her perfectly. Seriously, there isn’t one tiny crinkle anywhere. There’s also nothing remotely threatening about her, so I feel confident concluding she isn’t a threat to Ethan.

  Ethan jots her name down for a reservation on a future date, moves around the desk, and walks out the front door with her.

  My heart caves in.

  Stupid heart.

  It has no business being engaged whatsoever with Ethan. I get over it when our other remaining guests make their way out, raving about the food and thanking me. I thank them. As the door closes and I think I have the main room to myself, Ethan walks back in.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurt out. Hopefully not loud enough for the back waiters clearing the tables to hear.

  He makes a face. “Helping close, like I do every night.”

  “What about—” I zip my lips. “Never mind.” It’s extremely bothersome that I lose my cool around this man. I’ve been around lots of attractive men. Funny men. Charismatic and influential men. And I’ve never wavered. With Ethan, I’m that nineteen-year-old girl all over again.

  Ethan barks out a laugh. “Were you jealous just now?”

  “What? Pfft. No.” I wave away his ridiculous accusation.

  “I think you were.”

  “You think wrong.” I busy myself with straightening the desk despite the fact it’s already in order.

  “Meredith is my cousin.”

  I look up. “Your cousin?”

  Twin dimples hollow his cheeks in the most irritatingly sexy way. “Yep.”

  “She seems lovely.”

  He steps closer. Close enough for me to breathe in how good he smells. “One night, Callie.” His low, deep voice settles between my legs.

  “One night what?”

  “One night,” he brings his mouth to my ear, “you and I are going to walk out of here together and go straight to my bed.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He takes a step back. “I know so.”

  “You do remember what happens if you challenge me, right?”

  “I’ve told you. I remember everything. But this isn’t a challenge. It’s a promise.” He turns and walks away and I let him because I like his promise more than I should.

  An hour later, I’m about to leave for the night when I stop short outside the kitchen to listen to Ethan and Chef Louis talk. “Thought I’d run Temescal Canyon tomorrow. You in?” Ethan says.

  “Uh…sure,” Chef tells him.

  “Great. Six thirty a.m. Meet me at the trail entrance off Sunset.”

  Before I get caught eavesdropping—or am tempted to leave with Ethan—I make my escape. Running on a mountain trail at the crack of dawn? Once again Ethan is leaving himself open to possible harm. There hasn’t been anything unwelcome lately and that leads me to believe we’re due. It also means I need to keep him in my sights.

  Fingers crossed when we bump into each other tomorrow morning he doesn’t get suspicious.

  Chapter Eight

  Breadcrumbs

  Ethan

  My plan is working like a charm. I leave Pascale a breadcrumb and she follows. Don’t hate on me for this. It’s more for her than for me. Granted, I like the benefits probably more than she does.

  Since she doesn’t know I know she’s my bodyguard, I thought I’d make her job easier. I know Callie. I know she has a strong work ethic. I know she hates the thought of letting anyone down. My family has put her in a tough spot so I’ve decided to make it easier for her. While I’m still not overly concerned about the woman bothering me, I do recognize Pascale is sensitive to it because it’s her responsibility to keep me safe. Hence, she needs to stick by me at all times.

  (It should be mentioned yet again that I can keep myself safe, but I’m playing along.)

  The note I left about paintball with Zander—breadcrumb.

  I knew she’d arrive at work, walk to her table, see the note, read it, and come up with a way to show up. I’ve got to hand it to her, she thinks fast on her feet. I’m curious about Ren and if she’s more than a “friend” to Callie (like maybe a fellow bodyguard given her insane moves on the paintball field) but I won’t pry there. I’m not out to dig up anything more on my beautiful restaurant manager. I’m out to give her the Ethan Unlimited Access Pass so she doesn’t have to stress about it. Zander thinks the whole thing is hysterical. I chided myself for confiding in him. He lives to give me a hard time.

  Last night’s invitation to Louis to join me for a run—breadcrumb.

  Louis doesn’t even take walks let alone run. I heard Callie about to enter the kitchen to say goodbye so spoke the first thing to come to mind. Louis played along when I nodded my head furiously at him. It’s another chance for her and I to hang out away from work.

  Despite the ache in my chest that often reminds me she broke my heart once before, I can’t stop this pull to be with her. I’ve never met another woman who can
hold my interest like she does. Callie’s got that something special with my name on that I can’t describe, but feel everywhere at once.

  For instance, right now I’m standing outside my car parked along Sunset Boulevard and headlights approach, then slow, then come to a stop behind me, and my pulse starts to race. It’s her car. Her damn car with her inside and I’m some sort of excited nervous.

  I pretend I’m not concerned with her arrival and put one hand on the hood for balance while I reach behind me to gently stretch my hamstring. The sun is just barely making itself known. The air is crisp and if I’m to believe my car’s digital temperature reading, fifty-eight degrees.

  Her engine stops.

  Her door slams shut.

  “Ethan?” she says like it’s a complete surprise.

  There’s only one other car parked here and I notice she gives it a quick scan before resting her gaze back on me. She’s dressed in black leggings and a bright yellow hoodie. Her hair is in a messy ponytail. Her running shoes are bright white.

  She is a vision.

  “Pascale? Are you following me?” I tease like I’m just as surprised as she is. I did start this game so I’d better make it believable.

  “No,” she says very convincingly. If I didn’t know better… “But it is crazy that we’re bumping into each other again.”

  “We always said we were on the same wavelength.”

  “We did, didn’t we? Are you running the loop?”

  “I am. You want to join me?” Am I good at this or what?

  “Sure,” she says like it’s no big deal. She spreads her arms wide and twists back and forth to stretch her back. Leans sideways with her arm extended over her head. Repeats the motion on the other side. Lifts her knee up toward her chest. Lifts the other knee, warming up her leg muscles. “You’re staring at me.”

  “Hard not to.”

  She gives a little shake of her head in disapproval. “Are you ready?”

  “Let’s do it.” We take off at a light jog. The mountains are a brilliant green from all the recent rain. The dirt trail is packed hard underneath our feet. A creek flows parallel to the path and when we reach the four-way juncture, by silent agreement we run up the climb toward the ridge of the trail. This will take us on the longer loop. I’d run for hours if it meant time alone with Pascale.

  “So, run here often?” she asks, a cheeky lilt to her voice.

  I’m immediately reminded of the first words I ever said to her. Crash here often? I never believed in instant attraction until that moment. Haven’t been hit with it again since. Actually, I have. The night of Charlotte’s goodbye party at Royal when I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering to Pascale at the bar. “Often enough.”

  “Is running your favorite leisure activity?”

  “Are we playing twenty questions while we run?”

  “Oh, excuse me, is it too tiring for you to talk and run at the same time?”

  “Surely you jest.”

  “Totally serious and don’t call me Shirley.”

  We give each other a side-glance and grin. One night in Hawaii we were flipping through television channels in bed and came across the 1980 disaster-movie parody Airplane! We were naked, laughed constantly, and especially loved the “don’t call me Shirley” line.

  “Okay. To answer your question then, no, it’s not.”

  “What is?”

  “Sex.”

  She lets out a little huff. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “More like ran into it.”

  “Oh my God, stop.”

  We run underneath chaparral arching over the trail. It’s sparse so doesn’t obstruct the view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. I’ve yet to stop smiling. Starting my day with fresh air, exercise, and Pascale ranks up there with best mornings.

  “My turn,” I say. “Is a hotdog a sandwich?”

  “That’s a weird question.”

  “I heard it debated on the radio the other day, and since you’re a sandwich lover, I’m curious about your take.”

  “My immediate reaction is no, it’s not. A sandwich is a food item with two pieces of bread. A hot dog bun is one piece.”

  “That is easily broken into two pieces.”

  “Doesn’t count. You wouldn’t say hot dog sandwich. Next question. Choose one superpower. Invisibility, mind reading, flight, teleportation, or superhuman strength?”

  “That’s a tough one but I’m going to say mind reading.”

  “Would you ever be tempted to use it for evil?”

  “Define evil, because I’d definitely use it to read yours.”

  She doesn’t respond. Instead, she picks up her pace as if she’s trying to outrun further discussion on that topic. I stay beside her until we make a left on Leacock Trail. The footpath here is less traveled. It’s also narrower so I motion for Callie to take the lead. She frowns, then seems to catch herself, and with an exaggerated swish of her ponytail jogs ahead of me.

  I follow, leaving enough distance for me to check out her backside. This part of the trail rewards people with wide ocean views, but I much prefer the curve of Callie’s hips, her long legs, her pert ass.

  “Favorite sport to watch live,” I call out.

  “Don’t really have a favorite,” she calls back. “You? Wait. Don’t answer that. I’m sure it’s baseball.”

  She’s right. And it will be until Finn’s last game, which by his estimates—and insane contract—will be in ten years.

  “Best vacation you ever took?” she asks.

  The summer I spent with you. “New Orleans with my brothers. We went to Mardi Gras a few years ago and had a blast.”

  “I bet you did.”

  “How about you?”

  “Yosemite and Bass Lake with my mom, dad and Paige. We stayed outside the entire time hiking and bike riding and fishing.”

  “Are you still close to your parents?”

  “I am.” Her tone is wistful and a few beats pass before she says, “Besides family and friends, what’s the one thing you couldn’t live without? And you can’t say your phone. We all know our phones are like an extra limb.”

  “A hot shower. Finn and I once took ice baths after we worked out with his trainer and rather than reap any benefits, I swear it almost killed me.”

  She snickers. “Baby.”

  “What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend?” I ask.

  “Porn and chocolate.”

  I trip over my own feet, almost losing my balance.

  She turns to run backward, a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Kidding!” Noting I’m still upright, she spins around, never missing a beat. “Considering my boss is a workaholic and I work weekends, I’m not sure when I’ll get any free time, but I do love a spa day. Or lying on the beach with a book. Most importantly is unplugging from everything and just being for a while.”

  We reach Skull Rock, a sandstone formation that resembles a cranium. The outcropping provides an incredible view of the Santa Monica Bay.

  “It’s so gorgeous up here,” she says. “I love this time of year. I definitely don’t miss the dreary weather in Seattle.”

  “We haven’t talked about Seattle. Besides the weather, did you like it there?”

  Pascale makes a right, following the arrowed sign to Temescal Canyon, and we drop through heavier vegetation. When we get to the wooden bridge she stops to take in the small waterfall.

  We’re both breathing heavy. She keeps her attention on the water. I take the opportunity to study her profile. There’s a faraway look to her that I’m guessing stems from my question.

  “I did like it.”

  “But?”

  “No buts. Come on.”

  We run side by side again. This time without talking. It’s clear I’ve hit a nerve and I hate that I made her feel uncomfortable. After a few minutes of gradual descent, the trail tapers and winds through groves. We reach the abandoned brick building and stay right, following the dirt path back to the junct
ure at the start of the loop before we sprint the remaining distance to our cars.

  “Feel like doing me a solid this weekend?” I ask while we stretch, an idea popping into my head to soften her mood, I hope. At the very least, I’m helping her with her bodyguard duties.

  “That could probably be arranged. What is it?”

  “Be my date to a wedding Saturday night.”

  “This Saturday?” she says with apprehension. I nod. “You can’t show up to a wedding with a plus-one when you didn’t RSVP that way.”

  I cross my right arm in front of me to stretch my shoulder. “I did. Meredith is planning to join me, but I can tell her she’s off the hook.” I switch to my left arm. “I’d much rather take you.”

  “Not a date-date.” She bends to touch her toes.

  “Whatever you say.”

  “What about the restaurant?”

  “Violet and Penny can handle it.” My two hostesses have been with Royal for over a year and I trust them for a night.

  She stands back up, a blank expression on her face. She’s giving nothing away. “Okay.”

  I should probably tell her the details, but better to surprise her.

  Chapter Nine

  Faking It (Not!)

  Ethan

  I ring Pascale’s doorbell at exactly four o’clock. She hasn’t asked me anything about the wedding other than the attire. In fact, since our run two days ago she hasn’t spoken much to me at all. I have no idea what’s going on in that head of hers, but I do know I can’t keep pretending I don’t know about her real profession much longer.

  Her front door opens. “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi,” I return completely bowled over by her appearance. I boldly allow my gaze to drift up and down her body. “You look gorgeous.” Her red dress has a halter neckline and lacy bodice. Chiffon takes over at the banded waist and falls to the floor with a sexy side slit that exposes almost her full leg.

  “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  I smooth my hands over my Armani tux. I need to do something with them before I reach out to touch her—everywhere. “Thanks. You all set?”