Marcus (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 5)

by Hope Hitchens

  “What is it?” she asked turning. She looked at me expectantly. I had just gotten this gig; why was I about to ruin it by telling her this? I had to tell her. It would be worse if she found out some other way. I would get in trouble if she found out some other way. I wasn’t proud of the way I had spent the last six years, but I was nervous to tell her. She had a small baby, what if she kicked me out? I needed this job. I took a deep breath.

  “About my background. I have a criminal record,” I said.

  “In this country a lot of people do,” she said. “What did you do?”

  “I have felonies. I legally have to tell you as my employer.”

  “Felonies? More than one? What did you do?” she asked. People didn’t usually just ask for your charges like that. You could always lie; employers liked to do the background check themselves and find out.

  “Burglary. Theft,” I said, keeping it simple. Everything had degrees, even murder. As far as felonies went, mine were pretty tame. I knew guys who were in for consecutive life terms, underneath the prison. That wasn’t me, and I didn’t want her to think it was. I had been high. I had just wanted the stuff so I could pawn it for drug money.

  “You’re a thief?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “How do I know that?” she asked.

  “Leave me alone in your house and you’ll find out,” I said. Her eyebrows went up, and she looked a little shocked but amused at the same time.

  “Was that a threat?”

  “No. It was an invitation to stay here with me while I work. Never know what I might get up to. It’s better if you’re here to keep me on my best behavior.”

  “Have you gotten a lot of clients by threatening to clean them out when they weren’t home?” she asked.

  “No. I don’t want your stuff, but I don’t want you to leave either. You’ll definitely be happy when I’m done, but I think you’d like to see me work.” Her mouth fell open a little before she lifted her baby up, sitting him higher on her hip and clearing her throat.

  “Would you like to see… can I show you the…”

  “The nursery?” I asked, smirking. She blushed. She cleared her throat again. She was really cute. I called her cute describing her to Jon, but that was just because I didn’t want to get into it with him. She was adorable. Her cheeks went pink when she was embarrassed.

  “It’s just behind this door,” she said, turning quickly and walking to the open room. I walked after her, slower, checking her out. Her t-shirt was too long for me to get a good look at her ass, but her legs were nice. The baby turned his head to look at me. Jessie had told me it was a little boy—at that age they were hard to tell apart. Kevin had looked like raw crescent rolls before he started talking and moving around and whatever. This one was pretty cute I guess. I mean it wasn’t crying, it was chubby, but that was a good thing with babies.

  “I need the walls painted and probably a little baby proofing too. I want a mobile mounted on the ceiling, and I think I’ll need some help building his crib in here when it’s finally time to move it. It doesn’t fit through the door,” she said.

  “When am I meeting the man of the house?” I asked.

  “The what? I live alone. There is no man of the house unless you’re talking about this guy,” she said, motioning to the baby.

  “Divorce?” I asked.

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she said.

  “I just want to make sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes,” I said, moving closer to her. “What’s the deal with you and his dad?”

  “You’re just too curious for your own good, aren’t you?” she said.

  “So it’s over, huh?” I asked. She paused for a second before walking past me.

  “I was thinking about yellow for the walls,” she said offhandedly, ignoring my question. I was taking that as a yes; she and her kid’s dad were over. I was going to go ahead and call that an invitation.

  “Why don’t you do blue?” I asked standing next to her.

  “Because he’s a boy?”

  “Because you have blue in the living area. You don’t want it to match?”

  “What about green?” she asked.

  “No, it would make the room dark. Smaller.”

  “Why do you know all this?” she asked.

  “Freelance home reno guy,” I said, smirking.

  “Okay. Blue,” she said. “How long have you and Jessie been together?”

  “We’re not together,” I said.

  “She said you were her boyfriend.”

  “Is there a special reason why you’re so curious about my relationship with Jessie?” I asked. Her cheeks became a little pink again, and she looked down.

  “I just don’t think you should be flirting with me if you have a girlfriend,” she said.

  “We’re not together,” I said, taking a step closer to her. “You’re single too; I’d say if anyone should be flirting, it’s us.”

  “That’s a little cocky of you to say,” she said.

  “Maybe. But it’s not a lie.” I moved closer to her, and she didn’t step back. She looked at me with her lips parted, like she didn’t really know what to say next. I knew. I wanted to kiss her. I was going to when she moved suddenly holding her baby in front of her.

  “I have to go and change Jaden,” she said like she could tell by just looking at him. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched her leave the room. That was okay; she was coming back. I walked around the room; it was a pretty good size. I didn’t remember any of us having our own nursery when we were kids. Maybe you didn’t get one when you were as many as we were. She’d probably want to pick a color from some swatches; I’d have to get those. I needed tape too. This wouldn’t take long. I’d be done in less than a week.

  “Hey, could I ask you something?” she asked from the door of the nursery. She was back. I turned and saw her. She was holding a plate.

  “What?”

  “Could you taste this and tell me what you think?” she asked. She held the plate out to me. She wanted me to eat her food? I walked up and looked at what was on it. Leaves, some red shit like a sauce or something on the plate and something else that I couldn’t tell what it was.

  “What is it?”

  “Oyster mushroom and arugula salad,” she said. “Try it.” I looked at her then back at the plate. I knew she wasn’t going to poison me; I just wasn’t a big salad eater. We didn’t get a lot of leafy greens back on Rikers. Mushrooms either. I just remember picking them off of pizzas when I was a kid. I took the fork and got a little of everything on it.

  “Try the sauce too,” she urged. I covered some of the leaves in the red stuff and put it in my mouth. She watched me as I chewed. “So?”

  “It’s good,” I said swallowing, surprised. “What’s the red stuff?”

  “Beet reduction,” she said. “You really like it?”

  “It’s great,” I said, not knowing what she wanted to hear from me.

  “I feel like it needs something,” she said. Was she expecting me to tell her what it was? I didn’t even know what an arugula was. She took the fork from me and speared some leaves putting them in her mouth.

  “Dressing?” I asked. That was what people put on their salad, right?

  “But what kind?”

  “I don’t know, ranch?”

  She giggled, smiling at me.

  “No ranch, but thanks for the suggestion. Um, when can you start in here?”

  “What’s a good time for you?” I asked.

  “I have work tomorrow. I’ll be gone the whole day. I’ll be here on Thursday though. Can I have your phone number?” she asked, “so I can call you about coming over, not to… should I give you mine?” she asked. She was stammering, and her face was pink again. I smirked. Why was she like that? So nervous. The temptation to make her squirm was strong, but I laid off. I had to make sure she invited me back.

  “Let me have yours,” I said. I handed her my pho
ne, and she saved her phone number.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, giving me the phone. I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t, but I could be depending on what she said next. “I baked some cookies, and I can’t eat them all. You liked the salmon, and this,” she said raising the plate of salad she was still holding, “do you want to take some?”

  “Are you going to pay me in food?” I asked.

  “No, but they’re almond chocolate chip. Do you want some?” Yeah, she was a mom—definitely a mom. She’d offer me a glass of milk next and warn me not to drink it too fast.

  “Are they soft or crunchy?” I asked. She smiled, making me smile. She had dimples. “Wait here.” She left and came back with a box. “They’re still warm. Tell me what you think.”

  I opened the box and took one out, taking a bite. She watched me as I did. They were amazing. Like, melt in your mouth good. They were soft the way every cookie should be—none of that crunchy bullshit.

  “Is it good?” she asked. Like she didn’t know they were fucking great.

  “Honestly? I was hoping you didn’t mean this kind of cookie when you offered,” I said eating the rest. “This is great, but there’s no way it tastes better than yours,” I said. She was blushing again.

  “Marcus, I don’t think that’s appropriate,” she said.

  “You don’t want to feed me anymore? I’m starving,” I said. I held the side of her face and kissed her lips. She jerked back like it hurt.

  “I think you have to leave,” she said. She pushed back against my chest and walked out of the room. What? Too fast? I followed her out, and she had the front door held open for me. I felt like I should apologize suddenly. Had I fucked up? I didn’t deal with girls like her—sweet and like, innocent. Did I have to buy her dinner first? Was that it?

  “I’ll see you on Thursday,” I said, raising my arm to pull the door shut. She jumped back again like I was attacking her. What the fuck? She shut the door behind me. Huh. So this was what it felt like to strike out. I thought twice before trying her door again. Why was she wound so tight? I ate another cookie on the way down the stairs. Did this mean I was fired? Even if I was, I still knew where she lived.

  I was coming back.

  7

  Adina

  People become chefs because they love food. I became one because I love feeding people.

  Everybody has to eat.

  Delicious food makes people happy.

  The goal with every plate is to make people want seconds.

  Helena had come over because I had cooked up some stuff for the coming Saturday, this dinner party for a gay couple who lived in the East Village. They were older and wanted ‘a home-style French feast’—their exact request. Sit-down dinner, three courses, eleven people. Repeat customers; they had one of these big dinners every season.

  The company belonged to Helena, and she had started it with her husband’s family’s help. They had been high school sweethearts. One Thanksgiving she had volunteered to cook for his family and the rest was history. It wasn’t just catering. It was event planning and styling too; fancy stuff rich people paid a lot of money for. Besides introducing dishes, I did nothing front of house. I was just cooked. That was her thing.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked watching Helena try the food. I got to make these decisions with her as head chef. Classic French was a walk, but I had made a soup out of seasonal vegetables that was a little more fusion than classic. She was really skinny. I sort of hated her for it. I was just a little jealous. She had never been pregnant. I had put on twenty-five pounds when I was pregnant, and I still had that last six. I could fit in my clothes again, but everything was different. Not bad, just different.

  Jaden was in my lap, nursing. He had no opinion on French food.

  “I like it,” she said. “What about a main?”

  “Seafood? Bouillabaisse?” I said.

  “I don’t think a bouillabaisse is right for spring. Poultry?”

  “Meat. Navarin d’agneau. Still cool enough to get away with it.”

  “Perfect. What about dessert? Something in season—no cake.”

  “Berry clafouti. Homemade sorbet?”

  “Only as a palate cleanser. Something citrus,” she suggested, eating some more soup. “Don’t you have therapy today?”

  I had been wondering when she’d bring it up. At least she had waited till we were done talking business. She liked to ask for updates since she and Drew had been patients of Dr. Menendez in the past.

  “Nope, we aren’t going anymore. It’s over now, for real. No more Jared,” I sighed.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “He said he didn’t want to do it anymore. He gave up,” I said.

  “You aren’t going to try again?” she asked.

  “I’m not that pathetic, Helena. His girlfriend was there with us when he told me. He said they were moving in together and that this—me—was not what he wanted.”

  “You can’t just give up,” she said. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to believe that the doctor who had helped her and her husband out so much hadn’t stopped Jared and me from parting. “What about in the future? After some time has passed?”

  “I’m not going to wait for him,” I said sort of telling myself at the same time. I probably needed to say it out loud for myself so I could hear it. I wasn’t going to wait for him. He didn’t deserve it, and I deserved better than it.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Okay, I guess. I can’t just stop. There was always a chance it wasn’t going to work out. I wanted it to, but it didn’t, and now I have to keep going,” I said, looking down at Jaden. He was looking at me as I nursed him. I smiled. My precious boy. I wanted to regret being with Jared, but he had given me my baby.

  Jaden’s hair had been pitch black since he was born, like Jared’s. It would probably grow straight like his did too. He had my dimples, but his eyes were probably going to be brown like Jared’s when he got a little older. They were a hazelish color now; that was sort of where green and brown met, wasn’t it? Jared’s eyes and mine.

  Their names were different by just one letter, and I had known that giving Jaden his name. I had definitely not prepared to be raising him alone, but now I would have to. Stop being so bright-eyed about it.

  “No more treating this place like a hotel?” she smirked. I laughed. The kitchen was stocked because I cooked for a living, but everything else had come already furnished with the apartment, and it all looked alright together but really was nothing I’d put together myself.

  The carpet and sofas were tan—a terrible color to have with kids. The coffee table was clear and rectangular—Lucite. All I saw was all the ways Jaden would be able to hurt himself when he started being able to scoot around on his own.

  “Yeah. I hired someone and everything. Jaden’s going to have a real nursery,” I said looking down at him. He had stopped drinking, so I stuffed my boob back in my bra and pulled my top down, supporting Jaden in a sitting position as I rubbed his back. “Oh, he’s actually coming today.”

  “When?”

  I looked at the time. Soon. I had asked him to come at half past ten. Helena stayed a little while longer but left just after ten, so I would have time to straighten up a bit before he came. Maybe I should have asked her to stay because now I was nervous. We were going to be in the house alone. Jaden had just nursed, so I had to put him down too. That meant I couldn’t use him as a distraction.

  He was coming to my house, and he was working for me. He was the one who should have been nervous. Not me. It was just, weird having a man around me again. One who looked like that. One who was shameless and flirted with me and made me feel like I was fifteen instead of twenty-five. He was so… he was too much. He was a lot, more than I knew what to do with.

  Jared and I had not been intimate for over a year. The kiss that Marcus had stolen was the first time I had been kissed by a man since Jared sometime during the pregnancy. It was, I couldn’t
say nice because it had ended as soon as I had realized what he was doing and had gotten freaked out about it. He had kissed me. He couldn’t do that. He said he wasn’t dating Jessie, and I was no longer with Jared, but still, he couldn’t just kiss me. You didn’t kiss people unless you wanted something else. Whatever he wanted, it wasn’t going to come from me.

  He had communicated with me over the week asking me to pick a shade of blue for the walls and details like that. We had talked over the phone, and he had been professional so it was obvious that that kiss was just him seeing if he could get away with it or something. It wasn’t real. It was… it was real like I felt it. I felt his hand on my face and his lips against mine, and how hard his chest was when I touched it. It just wasn’t real real. He wasn’t kissing me because he wanted to ask me out or something. He did it because… I don’t know why he did it. I just didn’t want him to do it again.

  It was wrong, and he was wrong, and there was something wrong, obviously; that was the only reason why he would ever.

  I placed a drowsy Jaden into his crib and turned his mobile on. I pretended like I wasn’t waiting for Marcus to arrive as I waited. That was pathetic. He wasn’t waiting for me; he was coming here to work.

  The doorbell finally rang, and I cursed wishing I’d warned him that it tended to wake Jaden. I peeked in my room at him before hurrying to the door.

  “Hi,” I said quietly as I opened it. One of his hands was in his pocket. He looked the same as he had the last couple of times I’d seen him. He wore a lot of gray and black, and his jaw and chin were covered in a shadow of scruff. His hair was nice. I sort of wondered whether it was as soft as it looked.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching down for the stuff he had brought.

  “Do you need help with that?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  “How are you?” I asked his roving figure, holding the door open as he walked his equipment from the door to the nursery.

  “I’m good,” he said, stopping in front of me. “How are you?”

  “Fine. The baby is sleeping in my room. I’ll be out here if you need anything.”