by Wood, Vivian
His head bobs. “You would probably be legally bound up for two months total. But yeah, that’s about the breadth of it. I’d be willing to pay you five thousand dollars.”
Puffing out my cheeks, I exhale slowly. That’s a lot of money to me. And I can’t think of any downsides offhand, honestly. I’ve already made the mistake of marrying Luca. I might as well get something out of it in the meantime.
“Two months. Five grand. Sounds like a good deal.” Thrusting out my hand, I give him an uncertain look.
His lips curl up at the corners as he takes my hand. He steps closer, his expression intense, making me feel small next to him. His palm feels warm and a little rough where it presses against mine. “All right. We’re agreed, then.”
He grips my hand for a second too long, looking down into my eyes. And me being me, I blush. Then he releases my hand, turning and pacing away from me. I stand still, unsure how to proceed.
Luca is on the ball, though. “Do you need to make arrangements with your current job?”
My cheeks turn pink and I look down. “Nope.”
A hint of a smirk appears on his face. “Right. Well… can you come into the bar tomorrow, then?”
I nod, drowning in my embarrassment. “Yep.”
“Great.” He looks like he means the opposite. “See you then, Cate.”
He turns and heads to a sleek black motorcycle parked in front of the next yard. I roll my eyes; of course that would be his bike. The fact that Luca drives a two-wheeled death trap should surprise exactly no one.
As I watch, he mounts it, puts on his helmet, and revs the engine. I’ll admit it to myself: right this second he is tall, dark, and oh so very handsome. Enough to make some girls swoon, I should think.
Then he pulls off, quickly disappearing. I stare after him for half a minute, then shake my head.
Staying married to Luca won’t be that bad.
It will only be two months at the most.
And at the end, I’ll get a little more cash to bundle into my nest egg. I’ll be that much closer to buying my house.
I would consider that a win-win.
Shivering against the cold, I turn and head back inside.
Chapter Eight
Luca
At one forty five the next day, I glance at my watch. For some reason I’ve been keyed up all morning. Drumming my fingers, tapping my foot, staring at the front door of The Attic.
I guess I’m searching for a sign of whether hiring Cate was a terrible idea or not.
Will she flout the rules? Will she drop every bottle of liquor handed to her?
Will her big brown eyes and elfin features distract me from my work?
More importantly, will she even show up in the first place?
“Hey!” Bradford says, snapping his fingers. “Earth to Luca. We’re having an ownership meeting here, buddy.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m just distracted,”
I look at Bradford and Owen, both of them sitting with their papers spread out on the little table before us. Owen looks up from his calendar notebook, his brow creasing.
“I was asking whether the twelfth of February will be too early for a staff appreciation party,” he sighs. “I want to close the whole place down and have the bar open late the next day.”
“Uhhh…” I look down at my calendar, which is basically covered with post its and scrawled notes. Checking beneath several piles of post its, I shrug. “I don’t think I have anything booked for that day…”
Bradford narrows his eyes and looks down his nose at me. “I don’t trust you, Luca. Your management style as a whole is wonderful, but you are absolutely the worst when it comes to keeping a calendar.”
Owen nods in agreement. “He’s right. I don’t want to announce a staff appreciation day and then cancel it at the last minute because you realize that you’ve double booked us. Again.”
Rolling my eyes, I stretch. “That was one time, guys.”
Bradford is ready. “No, it was two times. I think you secretly have it in for the staff.”
He crosses his arms and gives me a dirty look. I wave him off. “Send me the date in an email. I’ll block the day off, okay?”
“And the next day,” Owen reminds me.
“Yes, mother.” I glance around, my gaze ending up on the empty doorway once more. I grind my teeth; I have a dozen things to worry about that are more important than when precisely Cate walks through that door. “Are we by any chance done here?”
Owen rolls his eyes, closing his notebook. Bradford just frowns. “Yeah, all right.”
“Hello?” I turn around to find Cate waiting at the bar, biting her lip. She spots the three of us and looks a little relieved. “Oh, there you are.”
“Where did you come from?” I ask, irritated with her already. Cate comes around the bar, dressed in an ankle-length gray skirt and a long sleeve gray cotton top. “Jesus, what did you do, rob a nunnery?”
She immediately turns bright red, tucking her wavy dark hair behind her ear. “You didn’t specify that I needed to dress any particular way. And I came from the employees’ entrance out back.”
I stand up, shaking my head. This was a bad idea, I can already tell. Cate nods to Owen and Bradford. “Hey guys.”
“Hey, honey…” Bradford says to her, arching a brow at me.
Oh. Yeah, it would probably have been a good idea to tell my business partners that I brought someone new onto our staff. By the angry look I’m receiving from Owen, I can see that I should’ve brought Cate up before right now.
“Cate’s going to be working here,” I say, pretending that her hiring is totally normal.
Yeah, it’s absolutely the norm to hire someone I got drunk with and married to the weekend before. No, I’m not going to regret this at all.
There is a look shared between Owen, Bradford, and I that says we will definitely get into this later. For her part, Cate looks like she’s drowning over by the bar. I sigh.
“Come on,” I say to her, stalking back behind the bar. “Let’s get you in the computer system, I guess.”
Heading back to my mess of an office, I try to figure out where the fuck I’m going to stash Cate. Casting an eye over her choice of wardrobe, I shake my head a little bit. She can’t dress like that, first of all. I should’ve thought of her clothes yesterday, but I was too busy plotting against Madisyn.
So for today, I can’t have her waiting tables or anything. Which kind of sucks, because I was just going to dump the responsibility for training her in Bradford’s lap. He likes new people. At least he would get along with her, probably.
“Sit down,” I rumble, pointing to a chair that is almost entirely covered with a big pile of white buffet bunting from something we did at Easter this year. “Just move that to the ground.”
Cate eyes the pile with some suspicion, but eventually moves it to the ground by titling the chair. The bunting slides off into a graceless pile. She gives me a cool smile as she sits down.
Rooting around in one of my desk drawers, I produce a new employee packet. Flinging it across my desk, I favor her with a dry smile. “Bring this back tomorrow filled out. And make sure you bring your identification, too.”
She leafs though it with a frown. I unearth an iPad from under some stacks of paper on my desk and start keying her basics in to the system.
“What am I going to be doing here, exactly?”
Looking at her frankly, I shrug. “I don’t know. We don’t exactly have any positions for baristas. I figure that we’ll find you something that fits for the next few months. The absolute worst case is that I pay you for nothing and you just stay at home. You would have to be pretty bad at everything for that to happen, though.”
She shoots me a glare. “I plan on pulling my own weight thank you very much. I don’t want your charity.”
That earns a raised eyebrow from me. “I thought you only agreed to do this for the money.”
The apples of her cheeks flush. “I w
ant to be useful.”
She ducks her head. I stare at her for half a minute. “Is this a Christian thing or something?”
Cate gives me a dirty look. “No.”
I shift in my chair. “Because this is a bar, princess. We are not interested in judging our patrons. Or musical acts. We book whoever we want, whenever we want. And we don’t dress…” I wave my hand over her. “…like this when we do it, either.”
Her look shifts to a glare. “I said it wasn’t a Catholic thing, okay? Everyone likes to be useful and productive.”
I raise my brows. “I think you’re giving people way more credit than they are due for.”
She just rolls her eyes. Shaking my head, I finish plugging her into the computer system. Then when I’m done, I frog march her out to the bar. “Come on. Let’s see if you are a decent bar back.”
“Bradford!” I call out. He turns around, his pen poised over his inventory list.
“What?” he asks, eyeing both of us skeptically.
“Try Cate out as a bar back tonight. She can prep fruit, stack beer cans, wash glasses, clean the bar…” I stop, giving him a desperate look. “Please take her.”
Bradford gives me a look, holding his arm out to Cate. “Come on, darling. Let’s get you set up juicing oranges and lemons. Citrus fruit is the best way to start any shift.”
Cate looks at me, her brown eyes wide. She goes along with Bradford, who keeps making stern eye contact with me until I turn and leave.
Heading back into my office, I start sifting through a whole pile of artist-venue contracts. I put the ones that need contacting to the side and then start to plug all the finished ones into a spreadsheet on the iPad. It’s boring as fuck, but it’ll make Owen happy. As the money manager of our threesome, he is always moaning that none of us put anything in Excel.
And if I’m not paying enough attention, I know it’s something I can’t screw up too badly. I keep my eye on the door at first, relaxing after a few minutes. Still, I feel like I’ve barely started when Bradford and Cate are in my office again.
Cate is nursing her right hand and looking paler than usual. Bradford looks like he wants to sigh about people testing his patience but thankfully doesn’t.
“We just got Miss Cate here all bandaged up, didn’t we? You’re gonna need to find somewhere else to work today, hon,” he says, pursing his lips. “Cate just gored her own hand when I was trying to teach her how to zest a lime.”
“I’m sorry,” Cate tells Bradford. “I know I already said it, but I’m so sorry bled on your pants.”
“It’s okay, honey.” Bradford pats her on the back. “I’ll tell people I was tussling with a wild bear. No one will know the difference.”
“Fuck. Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes,” Cate mumbles. “Just clumsy, I guess.”
“Hm.” I scrub my hand through my short hair.
Bradford shoots me a questioning look as he leaves. I’m going to have so many questions to answer when Cate isn’t around. Pushing myself to my feet, I consider what to do with her next.
“Ummm… I need the stock room organized… or I guess there is the filing room…”
She perks up a little. “Filing? I can file in my sleep.”
Blowing out a breath, I shrug. “Yeah, all right. Come on. Just… prepare yourself. It’s a little bit of a zoo.”
I walk right next door, opening the door and flipping on the light. The filing room, more of a closet really, is an absolute disaster. So is the stock room. So is my office.
But just thinking about the time it would take to reorganize everything brings on a splitting headache. So… I just deal with it.
“It’s not great,” I say with a shrug. “It drives Owen crazy and Bradford won’t even look in here.”
I turn, expecting to see some sort of horror written on Cate’s face. But instead, I see a light turn on behind her eyes. She looks at me, animated. “Oh, I’m gonna conquer this mess.”
She pushes up the sleeves of her cardigan and pushes past me, picking up one of the files closest to her.
“Do you need—” I start.
She cuts me off by raising a hand. Without taking her eyes off the file, she starts to close the door. “I’m fine. Go work. I’ll come see you if I have questions.”
Hesitating, I watch Cate for a second until the door closes on her. What could she really screw up? Nothing that’s not fixable, I guess…
Slinking back to my office, I return to my seat and try my best to focus on the contracts and the spreadsheet. At one point, I field a phone call from an irate manager. He’s mad because he doesn’t have finalized details for a set booked in late January. It takes me a while to uncover the band’s file and by the time we are done haggling, it’s early evening.
Cate has been going at the organization of the file closet for almost two and a half hours. Frowning, I decide I should check on her. Before I can though, Owen pops his head into my office.
“Have you seen your wife’s organizational skills?” he asks, widening his eyes. “I think you should think twice about divorcing her, Luca.”
“We’re getting an annulment,” I say with a sigh. “And no, I haven’t seen her work. What is she screwing up now?”
Owen waves me over, so I get up out of my chair. When I round the corner, Owen pushes the door of the file closet open a little more. Cate’s ass is the first thing I see, poking up as she reaches for a file at the very bottom of a filing cabinet.
All around her, folders are neatly sorted into stacks. It’s really not bad for a couple of hours of work. She senses us behind her and freezes, then shoots to her knees. When she turns to face us, her cheeks are stained pink.
“Hi,” she says, patting at her hair. She has a streak of dust across her right cheek. Reaching for her cell phone, she says, “What time is it? There are no windows in here.”
Owen glances at his watch. “Just past six.”
“Ah. I have a tendency to get caught up in projects that involve organizing.” She turns around, dusting herself off. “Is there something I should be doing instead?”
“Oh, look at this!” Bradford says, crowding into the doorway. “Girl! This closet has been a wreck for years. It’s time that somebody did something with it, honestly. Good job!”
Cate blushes. “Well, it’s hardly done. I have a few types of files…”
Owen looks down at his phone. “I gotta take this call guys. Excuse me.”
Cate adjusts the waist of her long skirt, seeming not to realize the fact that her nipples are poking through her camisole. There is something so innocent about that, so lacking in pretense.
What would it be like if I laid her down right here and took her, hard and quick and dirty?
“Well…” she says, frowning. “What now?”
Bradford is already headed into the storage room. That leaves me, staring down at Cate. She meets my gaze, licking her lips. “Luca, any direction you would like to give me?”
Yes, is my first instinct. There is something about her being on her knees and asking that question that makes me think dirty thoughts.
God, am I really lusting after my little sister’s best friend? Ugh, I really need to get laid.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “No. It seems like you have things well in hand here.”
Her eyes narrow on my face. “You don’t have to make fun of me, Luca.”
“I’m not,” I shoot back, defensive.
Cate rolls her eyes and begins to shut the door. “Come get me when it’s time for me to leave.”
Before I can say anything else, the door closes with a click. My phone rings on my desk next door, so I just sigh heavily and head to answer it.
But in the back of my mind, I’m still wondering if the idea to have Cate work here was terrible or not.
Chapter Nine
Cate
“Oh no. No way am I wearing that.” I’m in the employee dressing room, and I’m mad. Well, less mad and more wildly
uncomfortable. “I’ve worked here for a week and nobody other than Luca has had anything to say about my wardrobe…”
Standing at a rolling rack full of clothes that Luna has picked out, I’m staring at a bright pink tube dress on a hanger.
It turns out that Luca said something to her about how I don’t dress to match the bar vibe, whatever that means. So today when I showed up for work, Luna was already here. And she came prepared with all kinds of clothes.
She’s a clothes horse for sure; most of this rack just came from the back of one of her closets.
Luna rolls her eyes, but she’s still beaming at me. She’s actually been beaming nonstop since Vegas. I don’t want to crush her dreams, so I just stay silent about the fact that I’m still getting an annulment from her jerk of a brother.
“We’re gonna take this in baby steps, okay? No glittery pink tube dresses but maybe…” She brushes my shoulder as she flips through the garment rack. “How about this?”
She pulls out a bright red one-piece pantsuit, her eyes sparkling. It has a very low front and back and appears to be made of parachute material. “This is conservative, sort of. Well, less conservative conservative, but it’s got pants!”
“Luna, that thing has a plunging neckline instead of a collar. It would show off all kinds of boob. It’s not happening.” I pause, my head tilting. “What kind of bra do you even wear with that?”
Luna sighs, putting the jumpsuit back. “You don’t. And you’re right, it’s probably too advanced for you.”
She pushes a few hangers aside one by one, looking thoughtful. I clear my throat. “Maybe something with a skirt, at least? I’ve worn a skirt for my whole life and I don’t see any reason to stop now.” I pause. “And for the love of god, no more plunging necklines.”
“Ooooh,” she says, pulling out a black cocktail dress. “Simple. Basic. No crazy neckline. It even has sleeves… and it’s made of cotton.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It’s so short.”