His poker face is perfect. I get nothing from his expression. “What conduct are you referring to? I’m not trying to be argumentative, I just don’t understand what I’ve done that would warrant this.”
“I’d rather not go into specifics, nor am I obligated to. Your termination is effective immediately.” He stands and walks around his desk, gesturing to the door, a waft of spicy aftershave making my stomach roll. “Please return to the front desk. The receptionist has a packet of closing forms for you to fill out.”
Somehow I manage to rise, my legs shaking like crazy. Robert Middleton holds out his hand. I stare at it for a moment, then snap out of my daze and grasp it. His handshake is firm and decisive. “Best of luck to you, Ms. Morgan.”
This cannot be happening. How is this happening?
My throat goes dry, and tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I walk to the receptionist desk and the violet-haired woman.
When I finish filling out forms, I step inside the elevator escorted by one of the security guards—as if I were a felon. The receptionist said the security guard is customary, but I’ve never felt so low in my life.
The guard promenades me across the casino floor, past Gen handing out drinks in the lounge. She doesn’t see me, but Mason does. He glances up from his bar in confusion.
I know the feeling. I swallow and keep walking, mortified. They told me not to talk to anyone, and the last thing I want is to announce what’s happening.
After the guard leaves me in the parking garage, the tears I held back spill down my cheeks. I shuffle my feet along, shocked and in a daze, toward the rows of cars, searching for Gen’s, then I halt.
Shit.
Gen has the keys and the receptionist said I couldn’t return before tomorrow, when my employment status would be announced.
I walk to the edge of the garage overlooking the fields of cars below and lean my head on the cold metal bars. What am I going to do? I needed this job for school. My savings from this summer would only cover a fraction of the costs of my first year, but still. I’ll have to request more loans, which may take my entire life to pay off. I’ll be a well-paid corporate slave.
Opportunities like Harvard Law don’t come around every day. I should be grateful. And yet I’m not. It doesn’t feel like a dream, it feels like a burden.
Chapter Sixteen
I’m sitting in my favorite spot in the backyard on the lounge chair, where I’ve been for the last half-hour staring at the trees. I didn’t bother removing the purse from my arm. It seemed like a lot of work. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I just got fired. It makes no sense.
A vibration zings my ribs where my purse rests. I reach inside and grab it. “Hello?”
“Cali, are you okay?” Gen’s voice sounds high-pitched and panicked. “Mason said you left the casino escorted by a security guard.”
“Yup,” I choke. The rain of tears has dissipated, but my voice hasn’t fully recovered.
“What happened? Where are you?”
“Home. I took an Uber.” I gulp a deep breath and rub my nose, which is likely bright red from all the crying. “I was fired.”
“What? Why?”
I’m about to say I don’t know when a memory of the other night pops into my head. No. He wouldn’t… would he? Drake was pissed when he left. Pissed enough to take revenge?
“I—I don’t know.”
“This is crazy, Cali. You can’t get fired. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
I filter through the events of my last night of work, and the time I spent at the club. Had I done something employees shouldn’t? The casino gives drink tokens to employees at the end of every workweek, to be used at Blue bars. Administration has no problem with drinking and gambling at their facility. They’d probably be happy if we blew our entire paycheck on the house.
I drank and danced, which is no big deal. The thing that was a big deal was getting a ride from Drake and Jaeger punching him, an executive of Blue.
Would Drake take that out on me? In this way? Male pride makes men do stupid things. I sure as hell don’t know Drake well enough to say he wouldn’t have had me fired. He proved himself a jerk, possibly worse. Jesus.
And I can’t tell Gen any of this yet, because I haven’t told her about Drake and Jaeger and what happened that night. It’s too much to fill her in on over the phone while she’s working, and I want to do it in person anyway. “Supposedly employees are provisional the first three months. The casino doesn’t need a reason to release me. The head of Gaming said—”
“You spoke to someone upstairs? They never bother with us.”
“Yeah, well, this guy did. He said I don’t fit the casino culture.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re a genius, soon-to-be Harvard Law student. Not to mention classy and beautiful. What are they looking for? Dropouts with bedhead and poor manners?”
Hmm, interesting theory. Some employees fit that description. “No, I don’t think that’s it, but I doubt I’ll discover the truth. They’re not required to tell me.”
“This is so weird… and not right.” She lets out a loud sigh. “Forget about Blue, Cali. Who needs them? You have a bright future ahead.”
I pinch my lips and breathe through my nose, holding down the ball at the back of my throat. “Right.” Having this job while I figured things out with school was my buffer, and now it’s gone.
Gen returns to work, but promises to come straight home after her shift. Talking to her had the positive effect of waking me from my catatonic state on the patio.
I only spent thirty minutes in the casino, but my clothes and hair carry the burnt tang of cigarette smoke. I want to purge every reminder of that place. I grab my favorite threadbare sweats and T-shirt, and take a shower.
Wet hair dangling down my back, I flip through television channels, searching for a smutty reality show to make my life appear normal.
My cell phone vibrates. It’s a text from Jaeger.
Jaeger: Have you eaten?
Cali: No. How did you get my number?
Jaeger: Gen. You like burritos?
Ah hell. Does Gen know he’s texting me? She must if she gave him my number.
He’s catching me during a vulnerable moment. I can’t say no. I want to see him. Nothing’s going to happen with Gen on her way home—though that wasn’t much of a deterrent the last time. I shove that thought aside.
Cali: Chicken, please.
Twenty minutes later, a knock sounds at the front door and my pulse jumps. It’s probably Jaeger, but I peek out the window anyway. I’ve had too many surprises, and with my suspicions about Drake, anything’s possible.
Jaeger’s silver truck shimmers in the light from the porch. I open the door and find him standing there in blue jeans and a heathered gray sweatshirt, a brown paper bag in his hands.
“Hey.” He glances at my sweats and smirks.
After his text, I rolled the waistband so I wouldn’t have a saggy butt and put on a bra, but otherwise, I look like crap. “Come on in.”
Jaeger sets the bag on the counter. “Cups?”
“Behind you.” I point to the correct cupboard and reach for plates, then set them on the table in the dining nook.
Jaeger walks over with a glass and two bottles of Dos Equis. He pours me one and gulps from his bottle.
I take a large swig, the carbonation burning my oversensitized nose. It’s no longer bright red, but it’s still stopped up from all the crying. “Ahhh”—even so, Dos Equis tastes like a little bit of sunshine—“I needed that.”
Jaeger smiles and pulls out four bundles wrapped in white paper. He sets three on his plate and one on mine. Neither of us wastes time before digging into our food.
“So,” I say in between bites, “I’m guessing Gen told you what happened?”
He nods. “Mason saw you escorted out. I talked to Gen.”
My face warms. This entire evening has been one huge kick in my ass. I’m certain I did nothing to justi
fy being fired, but it’s still embarrassing, like having my credit card refused at the checkout counter because someone stole my card number. The finger points to me.
“Did she ask you to check on me?”
His gaze rises. “No. I sent myself.”
“And how did she feel about that?”
He stares at me for a moment, his gaze perplexed. “I didn’t ask.”
He doesn’t seem guilty, just matter-of-fact. I take another bite of my delicious burrito, stealthily studying his handsome face and broad shoulders. I can tell by the sauce that he picked up the food from my favorite taqueria. “Well, thanks. I appreciate you coming.”
Jaeger’s mouth pauses mid-munch. He stares at me for a moment before lifting his beer and swallowing. “What will you do? Will you look for another casino job?”
“I got the position through one of my mom’s contacts. She told us about summer hires and put in a good word. It’s late in the season. I doubt there are any positions left.” I set my half-eaten burrito down and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “I’m supposed to leave for school soon. I’ve saved enough money to get through the summer. My mom’s in Carson City. I could always spend time with her. She’s been asking me to come out.”
Jaeger polishes off his burrito and bites into a taco, drumming his fingers on the table. “So you’ll have time to kill.”
I’m not sure why he sounds happy. Nothing about being fired seems positive. “I guess.”
Jaeger glances at my half-eaten burrito. “Finished? Ready for dessert?”
“You brought dessert?”
“Of course.”
He downs his last taco and we wash the dishes. I’m putting away utensils with my back turned when I hear rustling sounds coming from Jaeger’s magical paper bag. I look to see what he’s up to.
He sets a jar on the counter.
It’s… “You brought me green olives?”
He slides the jar to me, and I’m speechless for a moment.
I look up, and he’s smiling. “How did you know?”
“I’m observant.” He must see the question on my face. “You gobbled them like grapes at the casino lounge that first night.”
This is the sweetest thing a guy has ever done for me. I want to wrap him up, throw him on my bed, and have my way with him. I grip the counter and slow my breathing. “Thank you.”
Jaeger pops the jar open. He plucks an olive and stretches his hand to my mouth. I part my lips and he slips the olive inside. My tongue grazes his finger on the way out.
He stares at my mouth as I chew. “More?” he asks absently.
I nod. “What about you? You having dessert?” I pull out another green beauty.
He clears his throat. “Watching you eat is dessert.” He grins naughtily.
This is trouble. How am I supposed to stay away when he’s like this? My panties evaporate just looking at him, and then he’s funny and sweet and brings me green olives. I have no defenses.
“But I brought something else for me. You mind if we go out back?”
A change of scenery would be good. Outdoors—away from bedrooms—even better.
When Jaeger asked me to carry the paper bag outside while he went to his truck, I wasn’t expecting him to return with a mini hibachi grill.
What the hell? “You cannot still be hungry after dinner. You ate half a cow in carne asada.”
He chuckles and sets the grill on the cement. He pulls a lighter along with a protracting spear from his back pocket.
The man comes equipped.
He lights coals inside the hibachi and waits for them to heat, then pulls a bag of marshmallows from the paper bag. Now I know where this is going, and I like the way he thinks.
I sit back in my lounge chair and wait for Jaeger to roast a marshmallow. He’s one of those “golden brown all over” kind of people, while I typically set mine ablaze and see what happens.
By the time Jaeger deems the marshmallow baked to perfection, my mouth is watering. He slowly eases the golden ball off the spear and places it on a square of chocolate between two graham crackers.
He’s been a complete gentleman the entire time I’ve known him. He won’t try to eat that without offering me some…
With deliberate slowness, he brings the s’more to his mouth—
I whimper, and he looks over, eyebrows raised, as if he knows I’m about to tackle him for his food. “Would you like some, Cali?”
He’s teasing me. I’ve had one of the worst weeks of my life, and he’s teasing me.
I pick up a pine cone and chuck it at his chest. He deflects it easily and laughs.
“Give me a bite, dammit!” I say.
He shakes his head. “Bossy.”
“Yes, I am. Let that be a lesson to you.”
A crooked smile crosses his face. My palms sweat at the mischief behind it. Instead of handing me the s’more, he leans over until he’s a foot away and lifts it to my mouth.
I narrow my eyes at him. A smile curls my lips. “You like feeding me.”
He stares at my mouth and nods. “Mm-hmm.”
That’s dirty. I like it. Two can play this game. I lick the chocolate dripping down his index finger, taking my time. Jaeger’s face tenses and he breathes in, his gaze on my tongue running along his long, thick finger. I take a bite of the s’more and lick my lips. “Mmm, good.”
His mouth parts slightly. “You’ve got some—” He indicates the side of my mouth.
I intentionally lick the other side.
He looks in my eyes. “You’re teasing me?”
I nod slowly.
Jaeger lets out a slow breath and sets the s’more on top of the paper bag. “I don’t like to be teased.” His face is devoid of emotion, and for a moment, I think he’s serious.
Before I know what’s happening, Jaeger drops the head of my lounge chair till I’m flat on my back and climbs on top of me, lightly pinning my arms above my head.
I let out a squeak. He grabs both my hands with one of his, licks the side of my mouth where the chocolate was, and tickles my ribs with his other hand.
“Stop!” I free a hand—he isn’t holding tight—and grab his tickling fingers, twining them with mine.
“What? You don’t like the punishment for naughty girls who tease?”
I’m grinning, because despite my misery, I’m having fun. I always have fun with him. “This isn’t punishment.”
He smiles boyishly. “No, I guess not. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
His eyes grow serious and he leans down and kisses me softly. He tastes like chocolate, and something else yummy that I associate with him. The gentle kiss evolves, transferring into something hot and needy. I wrap my arms around his back and he leans more weight on me.
I love the way he holds me, the way his kisses are deliberate, not sloppy and fast in order to get somewhere.
Jaeger shifts his hips between my legs and my breath catches, thighs softening around his waist. He moans in my mouth and presses again—
The lounge collapses—well, the bottom half, anyway—and our legs slam to the ground.
Jaeger laughs. “Shit. Are you okay?” He makes no move to get off me, and I’m glad. I like him right where he is.
I look down at the damage. The bottom support posts are bent in half. “Crap, how will I explain this to Gen?” I squeeze him tighter so he knows I’m going to be very upset if he tries to get off me right now.
He kisses the side of my mouth and runs his hand down my ribs to my stomach. “Blame it on me. Tell her I sat on it,” he murmurs.
His tongue finds the inside of my mouth and his hands travel up and down the length of my body for the next half-hour on that broken lounge chair—until the telltale sounds beyond the fence reach my ears.
Guilt flushes my chest and I push away lightly. “Gen is home,” I whisper. “We should get up.”
I did it again. How could I do it again? I have to know without a doubt that there’s nothing between Gen and Jaeger. I do
n’t think there is, but I need to be sure.
Jaeger groans and pecks me on the mouth before pushing up.
“What’s going on with you and Gen?” I blurt. Gen’s answer didn’t fill me with confidence the one time I asked, and Jaeger’s here now, no sexy protector pheromones coursing through me to muddle my brain like they were after the Drake mauling. My mind’s a little fuzzy after all that kissing, but I can’t hold off asking any longer.
He puts away s’more paraphernalia, his head cocked to the side as if confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you guys—um—well, hooking up?”
Jaeger freezes. “What? Why would you think that?”
“You took her out the other day. I wondered… I mean, she said no, but I have to be sure.”
He looks away as if thinking, and then slowly shakes his head. “I wanted her opinion about something I’m working on. It’s not… No, Cali, I’m not hooking up with Gen. I can’t believe you thought that after—” His hand lifts to me and then drops. “I would never do that. I’m not like that.”
I believe him, but I can’t say I know him well. “What are you like?”
He’s quiet for a moment, replacing the top of the hibachi. “I’m not going to lie. For a time I hooked up a lot, but that was a while ago. There were things going on—things I was trying to deal with. Obviously, I didn’t deal with them well, but I got over it and I’m not like that anymore. It wasn’t the real me.” He stares into my eyes. “But even then, I would never have hooked up with one girl and then turned around and pursued her best friend.” He rubs his jaw. “I also didn’t, ahhh—date—more than one girl at a time. Too complicated.”
So he didn’t screw more than one girl on the same day, but there probably wasn’t much lag time in between. I can deal with that. He was younger then. It’s slutty, but I don’t expect less from a twenty-year-old guy who was hot enough to have anyone he wanted. As long as he’s not like that anymore.
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