by Kylie Scott
What I really wanted to do was swan-dive into a big soft bed and sleep for about a week. Too bad that wasn't an option.
Opposite me, Joe sat forward in his seat, arms braced on the table. I'd returned to my usual attire, skinny jeans and boots (there were only two pairs of socks and about a hundred Band-Aids covering my poor blistered feet) and a black bulky, comfy sweater. No makeup or hairstyling, that's for sure. If the man was surprised by the lack of last night's glamour, it didn't show.
With all the body-shaping underwear, lip gloss, heels, and tiny dress, you could almost say I'd been fibbing about who I was. His lie, however, left my Spanx and push-up bra way behind.
We both stayed silent, watching each other warily.
A cute, perky waitress appeared, smile stretched wide at the sight of Joe. A curious gaze looked me over, then dismissed me. I swear, it took the woman no more than a nanosecond to decide I wasn't any competition for my disheveled, hirsute, tattooed companion. Little did she know I'd always thought Jean Grey in X-Men got it right, Cyclops was a way better bet than Wolverine. All of that testosterone and bad attitude mixed with a scruffy face and general give no shits about his appearance was not so wonderful. In all honesty, I'd take cool, calm, and well kept over anger management and body hair issues any day of the week. Joe was all hers. She turned slightly and hitched her hip, subtly blocking me out of the conversation.
Oh yeah, I'd be leaving her a real big tip. Something along the lines of "fuck off."
"Hey," purred the waitress. "Good to see you, Joe."
"Hi, Jess."
"The usual?"
Joe turned to me, apparently unaware he was being oh so obviously hit on. Interesting, his eyes were hazel in the sun, chocolate brown flecked with amber. Last night they'd seemed dark and furtive, brimming over with secrets and lies, but this morning, he was just a guy. Funnily enough, one I thought I'd known, though it turned out I hadn't had a clue. Or maybe it was the other way around. I thought I hadn't known much about him, but actually in a strange sort of way I did--which only complicated things further.
"They do great coffee and fresh juices here," he said. "Excellent pancakes. Sound good?"
"Sure."
Again, a small, safe smile, then he ordered for both of us. I did my best to tune out Joe and the waitress. Proving she had all the moves, however, cute, perky waitress then placed a hand on the table and leaned forward, giving the man a clear view down her shirt. All right, so I might have had a bit of breast envy on account of my minimal mammaries. And yeah, care of recent events and my head cold, my mood registered right around crap level. But if she was the universe's way of messing with me, in an effort to pass along the message that Joe was in fact attractive, well ... duh. I already knew that. Beards and bulk were on many a woman's wish list. They just hadn't been on mine. Could be I'd watched Keanu Reeves in The Matrix one too many times. That slick dark hair and cool outfits. Rawr.
"Are you sure I can't get you anything else, Joe?" she asked, sucking on the end of her pen in a manner that would have made a porn star feel mildly uncomfortable.
"No, I think we're good." Joe looked my way. "Alex?"
"All good over here."
"Thanks, Jess."
"Tell Eric I said hi," said the waitress.
Joe gave her a friendly smile. "Will do."
With a wiggle of the fingers, cute waitress sashayed her tiny little butt back off inside. Yes, fine. I'm a little sensitive about the size of my ass too. In all honestly, my issues are many.
"Friendly girl," I muttered, hunkering down in my black wool coat.
Joe said nothing.
"Hypothetical question," I said, my chin inching up a bit. "A waiter hits on the woman you're with, what do you do?"
He blinked. "There a reason for this question?"
"Just curious." I shook my head. "Never mind."
It's not like it mattered, because after this unfortunate breakfast we'd probably never cross paths again. So the waitress had rubbed me the wrong way. Such was life. Let it go. Move forward. Blah blah blah.
He cleared his throat. "If a waiter hits on the girl I'm with, I do nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not unless it's upsetting her."
Hmm. "Why only then?"
"If it's not upsetting her, then the problem's mine." He settled back in his chair, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle. "Make a big deal out of it and I look like a jealous douchebag who doesn't trust his woman to ignore that sort of shit."
"What if she enjoys that sort of shit?"
"Then I'm with the wrong woman."
"Huh."
"What about you? What if a man you were on a date with started flirting with the waitress?"
"Then I'm out of there." I sighed and stared off down the street. Downtown Coeur d'Alene was a pretty place. And a somewhat strange one. "That is a very colorful moose."
Joe turned in his chair, peering through the window at the brilliantly painted statue on the corner. "Yeah. They do different art installations every summer then sell them off as a fund-raiser at the end of the season to pay the artists."
"Wow."
"Moose were the theme one year. Another time we had fountains on every corner. It was a little crazy," he said.
"Cool."
He tipped his chin, studying me.
I took the opportunity to sniffle. So feminine.
"I wanted to talk to you a bit more about what happened between us online," he said, his mouth a serious straight line. "How I came to use my brother's profile."
Ugh. "I'm pretty sure I found out everything I needed to know last night."
"I didn't mean to lie to you, Alex."
"Once is a mistake." I crossed my legs, kicking my black leather bootie back and forth. So I was a little aggravated. Sue me. "Months' worth of emails is not. You could have introduced yourself to me, Joe, told me who you really were. You chose not to. Christ, no wonder you kept putting off meeting. I should have known something was wrong."
"You're right. I shouldn't try to sell you excuses." A big sigh from my "friend." "Truth is, I'm not used to being the bad guy. Usually I'm the one cleaning up my brother's messes."
"Lucky me." Right behind my eyes, what had been a mild ache became a dull pounding. I pushed my sunglasses further back on my head, rubbing at my temples.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's just this stupid head cold. Please, continue. You're not used to being the bad guy, huh?"
His frown deepened. "I know it must feel like you don't know me, but you do. It was just a couple of details. But the person talking to you, that was me."
I shook my head. "I don't care. Look, you're forgiven. Okay? If that's what you need, you got it. All good. It's in the past."
"Thing is, Alex, I don't think I really ever saw us meeting. I don't know." He scratched his head. "It was always going to be a clusterfuck that wound up with you hating me. And I liked you too much to want to 'fess up to that."
"As a friend," I inserted. "I know."
"Yeah. But it's done. You're here now. Seems stupid if we don't take this chance to try and get to know each other face-to-face," he said. "Guess what I'm asking is if you'll stay a few days. Let me make this up to you."
"God, are you serious? No. Absolutely not," I said, resolute. "I've had liars in my life before, Joe. No. I can't. I'm going home."
He visibly sagged.
"Sucks that you're having issues being the jerk in this situation. But that's not my problem."
No response.
"Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom." Time to go splash some water on my face. Pull myself together. Only when I pushed back in my seat and stood, the whole world whited out, spinning in dizzy circles. My muscles weakened and suddenly gravity was not my friend.
"Shit. Alex."
A strong hand gripped my arm, keeping me from keeling over. Already up and out of his chair, Joe guided me back down into my seat. Maybe going nowhe
re was best. Yeah, I'd just hang. No doubt this would all pass in a minute.
"You're gray," said Joe, kneeling at my feet.
"Actually, I don't feel particularly great." In fact, if there'd been anything in my stomach, I'd have probably thrown up all over him. Ha. What a statement that would have made. Only then, I'd feel bad because he was being so sweet and all.
Coffee cups clattered on the table.
"Is she okay?" the waitress asked Joe.
"You mind grabbing her some water, Jess?"
"Sure."
I heard swift footsteps. The growl of a motorcycle passing by outside.
"Maybe I caught some bug on the plane yesterday," I said, pondering my shit condition. The only swooning women I knew came out of Georgette Heyer novels. I wasn't the fainting type. "This seems a bit worse than a stuffy nose."
"You nearly passed out just now. You can't fly in this condition."
"Shit." I groaned on the inside. "I guess not. Perhaps I'll see if I can extend my stay at the hotel."
"And who's going to look after you?" he asked.
"I don't need someone looking after me."
"Hey," he said, forehead furrowed all stern-like. "You could have fallen and seriously hurt yourself just now. Hit your head or something."
"Joe..."
A glass of ice water was thrust in front of me.
"Thanks," I mumbled to the waitress.
"Jess, we'll take it all to go," ordered the man before turning back to me. "I better stick with you."
Oh, hell no.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, because you're being very kind. But one polite attempt at breakfast isn't about to undo months of betrayal. Anyway, I don't think I could relax with you watching me in a small hotel room, friend or not." I blew my nose and thought deep thoughts. Or as deep a thought as my muddled, hurting head would allow. "Some cold and flu drugs and I'll be fine. I'll just sleep it off. By tomorrow it'll probably be gone."
"I'll take you back to the hotel, then I'll go get whatever you want from the pharmacy," he said, as if the decision had been made. "I won't be hovering over you, promise."
I winced. "Joe..."
"Alex, you're sick."
"Really? I hadn't noticed. Thanks so much for pointing that out."
"And in a bad mood. But fair enough, you've got reason to be." He placed his warm hand atop mine, gently stroking with the side of his thumb. Trying to lull me into submission or something. I didn't have the energy to care.
"I pulled some crap with you that was wrong," he said. "But right now, you look terrible. You should be in bed. Why don't you crash and allow me to go get whatever you need from the drugstore then drop it back at the hotel? I can leave it at the front desk. You won't even have to see me."
"That's a really kind offer, but--"
"But nothing," he said. "C'mon, I'm here. I want to help. Give me a chance to show you I'm not a total asshole."
His offer did sound good. Extremely good. I didn't even care that he'd dissed my mood and said I looked like crap. The word bed floated before me like a beautiful, impossible dream.
"You've got time?" I sniffed. "You don't have to be at work or something?"
"No." He shook his head. "It's all good. And later if you decide you need anything else or want to go to the doctor I can organize that, no problem. You could just text me or something."
Heavy sigh. "Are you sure?"
His beard framed a confident smile. "I'm sure."
Even heavier sigh. "Okay."
"Good."
"I'm only staying for one more night, though," I clarified.
"Okay."
I managed a feeble smile.
Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy, despite all the lying. It didn't matter. I'd given this thing between us a chance and it had blown up in my face. Whatever kind of man Joe Collins might be, tomorrow I was going home where all was safe and sound. Home where I belonged.
CHAPTER FOUR
Message received five months ago:
Hi Alex,
Thanks for your reply and sorry about the silence. My trip to Seattle's off for now, but it'd be great to keep in touch. How's your graphic design business doing? I see you're interested in renovation. Been doing some work stripping parts of the restaurant back to original fittings and raw brick lately while also trying to maintain some of the original 70's/80's fixtures. Not much else happening right now. Seen any good bands lately? Live music scene here dies off in winter but the summer's really active. My best to your squirrel friend Marty. I'd add some joke about keeping nuts warm, but it'd probably just make things awkward. We don't know each other nearly well enough for that.;)
Eric
Message sent:
Shit. I probably shouldn't have added that nuts bit. Hope I haven't offended you.
Eric
Message sent:
Hahaha. No worries, Eric. I'm not that delicate a petal. Would love to keep in touch. Your renovation project sounds awesome, can you shoot me some photos when you get a chance? How old is the building you're working on? Business has been crazy busy which is great. Lots of branding for new businesses mostly, business cards etc. No plans to head out but I just downloaded the Soviet X-Ray Record Club's latest. Enjoying that. I'll be sure to pass on your regards to Marty and his nuts next time I see him.
Alex
Someone had called Thor.
It was the only explanation my befuddled mind could come up with for the almighty pounding upon my door. Thor and his mighty hammer. Goddamn god of thunder. I'd been fast asleep, completely unconscious.
I struggled to sit up. And I do mean struggled.
Upon returning to the hotel, Joe had pretty much taken over. My booties and coat were removed from my body and I was put to bed. The man took my tucking-in seriously. He'd fixed the top sheet and blanket across me so tightly, I almost needed the Jaws of Life to escape. Almost.
"Coming," I attempted to bellow when the hammering continued. What came out, however, was more of a wheeze, as if I'd been involved in an amateur sword swallowing contest. My throat was annihilated and my head didn't feel much better. Oddly enough, the room was dark. Completely dark. No sunlight snuck around the curtain edges or anything. Only the dim line of light from the hallway showed beneath the door.
"Hey," I rasped upon opening it.
Sure enough, there stood Thor aka blond Bigfoot aka my supposed friend Joe. He did not look happy. "Fuck's sake, Alex. You had me worried sick."
"What? Why?" I headed back over to the bed, sitting on the end of the mattress. Oh, beloved bed. All I wanted to do was crawl back in and do some more sleeping. For forever would work.
He closed the door and flicked on the light, making me wince. One bulging pharmacy bag and one neat brown paper bag hung from his right hand. "I called the front desk six times to check and see if you'd picked up the stuff from the pharmacy. They hadn't heard a word from you."
"Huh. I must have slept all day."
"And half the night," he said, frowning heavily. "It's nine P.M. I was supposed to work until twelve, but I needed to come check on you. I've been standing out there banging on the door for ages. I was just about to get security to open it for me so I could make sure you weren't dead."
"Not dead." I feebly waved a hand his way. "Yet."
"You're still too pale. If anything you seem worse." Hands on hips, the man scowled down at me. This morning's hoodie had been replaced by a nicely fitted blue thermal. A smooth mover or not, Joe had a drool-worthy physique. Big black boots covered his feet, and he wore black jeans. He looked a little dangerous, dressed all dark and acting so moody. Even if it was just my lazy white blood cells he was mad at.
"Sorry you had to leave work," I said. "But I really am okay."
Without comment, he placed the palm of his hand against my fevered brow.
"I actually feel a little better," I lied.
"Yeah? Because you look like shit."
"Don't you flirt with me." I coughed
out a laugh. "I'm not your type, remember?"
The brown paper bag, he sat on a little table against the wall. But the pharmacy bag he upended onto the bed beside me. Cold and flu tablets, aspirin, Theraflu, Advil, Kleenex, throat lozenges, cough syrup, and more. Much, much more.
"Wow," I said. "That's a lot of stuff."
"Wanted to make sure you had everything you might need."
"But I only gave you twenty dollars."
"Don't worry about it," he said.
It didn't exactly sit well with me, owing him. Maybe I'd try and slip another twenty into his coat or something. I picked up a slim purple tube. "Huckleberry lip balm?"
A shrug. He passed me a bottle of water out of the mini-bar. Then tore into the box of cold and flu tablets, popping two out of the packaging into my waiting hand.
"Thanks."
Next, he started fussing with the contents of the brown paper bag. First he removed the lid from a large take-out cup, then added one of those disposable plastic spoons.
"Nell made you chicken noodle soup," he said, handing the cup and spoon over. "Careful, it's hot. Well, I hope it still is. There's also some cookies in the bag."
"I wish my nose was working. I bet it smells great." Steam rose from the soup, warming my face. I blew on the liquid and took a small sip. Immediately my throat felt a bit better. Such was the almighty power of comfort food. "This is so nice of her. She's the chef in your bar, right?"
He flinched. "Ah, no. I mean it's not my bar. Eric owns a share of the bar along with her and Lydia. They all run different sections. I just work for them."
"Right. Sorry, I forgot to forget what I thought I knew about you."
Insert uncomfortable silence here.
The man got busy moving all of the pharmacy goods onto the table. I watched, sipping and stirring my soup. Eventually, he ran out of things to do and we were back to facing each other, a veritable life full of lies between us.
No, that was wrong. Nothing lay between us now. All of my romantic misconceptions were gone. Whatever I'd imagined could develop between me and "Eric" had died a sad and sorry death last night. In front of all of his friends, even. Little wonder Nell was making me soup. I must have looked like such a fool.
"You want me to run you a hot bath or something?" he asked.
"No. Thanks. I'm good."
Once he'd gone I'd summon up some strength to do it for myself. A nice quick hot bath. Emphasis on quick. Baths and I had a bad history. Long story.