Riptide Affair, page 12
My phone vibrates again and Kate's ESP must be set on high today because she pats my arm as she passes. “April's not coming in today. You can answer him. Just don't text while you're in the dining hall.”
I salute her playfully. “Thanks, boss.”
“Mmhmm.”
Once she's out of range, I slip my phone out and scroll up through all the messages I missed, eager to soak up each and every word.
Nothing quite like popping wood at work. Thanks, babe.
My cheeks flush.
And as much as I'd love a repeat of last night, this morning was brutal. I should probably stay in my own bed tonight. Can't risk being late twice in one week...even though that damn table is all I can think about now.
Same, Jared. Same.
How about Friday?
Smiling like a moron in the middle of the kitchen while the cooks stare at me like I've lost my damn mind, I type back a reply.
Friday would be perfect.
I let my phone thud against the order pad in my apron and grit my teeth to keep from squealing. When was the last time someone—especially a man—made me feel this way?
I can't recall.
I've had three sorta-kinda-relationships over the years, but none of them ever amounted to anything. We either suffered from a lack of chemistry or they eventually grew tired of the fact that I wouldn't spread my legs. But why would I when there were no tingles, no irrepressible elation, no pressure in my chest that made it feel like my heart just snorted a line of coke?
For the longest time, I thought I was the problem. I wasn't as playful or daring or sensual as the men in my life expected me to be. Through a series of backhanded compliments and thinly veiled insults, I was made to think I was the one with a screw loose, incapable of being with someone in all the ways that were expected of me. But after sharing something special with Jared...I've come to realize that wasn't the case at all.
It wasn't me.
It was them.
Because Jared makes me feel all the things a woman should when in the arms of a man, and even though this relationship is still in its infancy, I can already tell we're laying a solid foundation.
Out on the floor, Harper stops me before I can take a table's drink order and steers me by the arm toward her station. “Are you opening a damn greenhouse?”
Confused, I shake my head. “No. Why?”
She all but shoves me behind the counter, and I come face to face with an artistic metal dish filled with an array of succulents. There's a card lying next to it, but it doesn't have a message, only my name. Spinning the dish in careful hands, I inspect the intricate patterns hammered into the metal, geometric designs that perfectly compliment the plants.
“Two in one day?” Laura asks, coming up to grip my shoulders. “You must be a damn beast in bed.”
Harper turns away with a sniff. “Did the florist run out of roses or something? This dude's setting the bar pretty high, don't you think?”
A soft blush warms my cheeks as my heart swells. “I think the bar's set just right.”
Laura smacks her palms against the counter. “You should get him something! What says loved the plants, but I'd rather have you planted somewhere a little deeper?”
Harper cringes. “Don't be crude.”
Laura's eyes light, but she ignores Harper completely. “How about a sex swing? Wait, no...that's a little over the top. Oh! A cock ring! Yeah, get him a cock ring.”
We all stare at her in disbelief, as do a few patrons sitting close enough to hear.
“There's something seriously wrong with you,” Harper states. “You're disturbing.”
Laura scoffs. “Hey, I'm just trying to help her disturb him!”
“Nobody needs to disturb anyone,” I cut in. “But I appreciate the help. I think...”
“Fine,” Laura sighs, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, “but if there ever comes a time when you need to liven things up in the bedroom, you come to me. Mama Laura will hook you up.”
“Or tie you up,” Harper quips with a wink. “If you're into that kind of thing.”
I swiftly remove myself from that conversation and leave to check on my tables. They mean well, I know they do, but this is all old hat for them. For me, it's a whole new adventure. One I'd like to experience without their influence. Besides, I already have enough Sedrophyoxaline pumping through my system, I can come up with a million and one sexy ways to entice Jared all on my own.
Another hour into my shift, I've thought up countless ways to thank Jared, all of which require zero clothing, and I think the crazed sexpot smile I'm wearing is beginning to scare my customers. But, my dial is broken at eleven so there's no way to tone it down. Even Jeb is weirded out, which is saying something considering he's the oddest, crudest, most loose-lipped employee we've ever had.
“You look like the Joker, you know that, right?” Harper says as we grab silverware from the bin.
I lift a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I'll work on it.”
“Better work on it fast. I think your man just came in.”
A gasp escapes, and before I can bound out the door and straight into Jared's presence, Kate grabs me by the wrist, pointing a finger in my face. “No! Do not bounce out there like an overeager service dog! You are a calm, intelligent, sophisticated woman, Merrin, not a twelve-year-old at a One Direction concert.”
Damn.
She's right.
I'm entirely too wired.
Taking a quick, deep breath, I force myself to think calm thoughts as I run my fingers through my hair, ensuring it's not a knotted, greasy mess.
“Right,” I nod. “Calm. Intelligent. Got it.”
Harper rolls her eyes. “You're a lost cause. Go.”
She doesn't have to tell me twice. I'm out the door in my next breath, scanning my section for dark unruly hair and bright blue eyes, but when I see someone sorta-kinda fitting that description, I deflate.
That's not Jared wearing a pinstriped suit and playing on his silver iPhone.
It's Rhett.
Biting back a curse, I approach the table.
“Hey, Rhett,” I say with what I hope is a pleasant smile. “What can I get you to drink?”
He lays his phone on the table, screen down, and laces his fingers together. “Definitely not tea.”
My smile vanishes.
But then he looks up at me and his lips are pulled up in some semblance of a smile. “Kidding.”
“Oh. Right. Again, sorry about that.”
“Water under the bridge,” he says, waving a hand through the air. “I'll have a Pepsi and the buffet.”
The words he's speaking are friendly enough, but the way he delivers them is still ice cold, telling me he doesn't care too much for me, he's merely playing nice by tolerating the 'lowly waitress' his brother is 'dating'. Not that I care if he likes me or not. He's not the twin that matters.
I leave Rhett to his own devices after delivering his drink, and am suddenly caught in the middle of the lunch rush, only sparing a second to pass his table once on my way to the kitchen. But when I stop to take his dirty plate, Rhett is gone.
“Did he leave already?” Kate asks in passing. “I promised I'd snap a picture of you drooling on his table for Laura's photo wall.”
“You're not funny,” I say. “Besides, that was the wrong twin.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sag. “Coulda swore that was him.”
“Trust me, Jared would never come in here in a suit. Not ever. He's too practical for that.”
“Duly noted,” she states, before jerking her chin to the table. “Still, Wrong Twin must have found the service to his liking today.”
“Why's that?”
She points to the salt and pepper shakers, and I lean in close, plucking the bill that's been neatly folded between them, and my eyes go wide.
Holy shit...
Rhett, the man whose genitals I assaulted with scalding hot liquid, the man I accosted in the restroom, the man who thinks I live at the bottom of both the societal and economical totem poles...just left me a one hundred dollar tip.
Kate bumps me with her hip. “I'm not sure if you should be grateful or offended.”
That makes two of us.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jared
“Hi, Jared!”
Becky the crazy-eyed hamster lady is as energetic as always as I step foot inside the pet store with a package of disassembled cages. Her hand brushes along my lower back, just above my ass, as I set it down in the lobby, but I ignore the flirtatious touch, much like I've done a hundred times before.
“There you go.” I hand her the tablet and look at anything and everything that isn't her face as she signs. Cages filled with multicolored birds. Glass tanks housing fish of all shapes and sizes. Plastic bins holding big ass snakes. A fold-out cot set just behind the counter.
“Oh yeah, about that,” she says, gesturing to the cot. “My roommate has the flu so she kicked me out for the week. Not that it matters. I never get sick. I'm as healthy as a horse. Well, healthy as a healthy horse, that is.” She laughs hard at her own joke, and I chuckle just to appease her.
As she hands the tablet back, she uses her free hand to lightly touch my wrist. “Hey, Jared?”
“Yeah?”
She tucks a lock of bright blonde hair behind her ear, staring at a spot just over my shoulder. “Look...I thought I'd been pretty transparent, but I guess not since you haven't caught on...”
Aw, hell...here it comes.
“I like you,” she says, squaring her shoulders. “You're sweet and attractive and, well, I'd love to let you take me to dinner sometime.”
She blushes, and I instantly feel like a dick. She's putting herself out there, like, really putting herself out there, and I'm about to shoot her down. But there's just nothing here. I've never felt anything even close to a flicker of attraction for Becky.
“You were transparent, Becky, I just don't date people I deliver to. It's a personal rule of mine. That, and I'm taken.”
Her shoulders fall. “Really?” she asks, completely crestfallen. “How taken?”
I can't help but smile remembering the way Merrin kissed me goodnight with her entire body after our very first date. “Extremely taken.”
“Okay,” she huffs, taking a half-step away. “Well, I tried, right? That's what counts.”
This time, I give her a sincere smile. “You did. Kudos to you for that. But don't fret. You'll find someone.”
“With your biceps?” she asks, teasingly giving my arm a squeeze.
“With John Cena biceps,” I assure her.
Becky rolls her eyes. “Not likely, but thanks for letting me down gently.”
I pat her shoulder in a purely platonic gesture. She really is a sweet woman, just a little too rambunctious for my liking. And besides, after a chance encounter with a certain brown-eyed beauty, I'm beginning to think I may be off the market for quite some time.
“Take care, Becky.”
“Thanks, Jared. Oh! Actually, hang on.” She scurries behind the counter, almost tripping over a cat on her way, and comes back with a small gold gift certificate for twenty dollars. “Here. If you two ever want a pet, you'd damn well better come see me.”
“We will,” I say, backing away toward the door. “I promise.”
The idea of one day sharing a pet with Merrin, of sharing a living space, fills me with immense joy as I drive off to my next delivery, telling me just how over the top gone I am for this woman, and every stop I make brings me that much closer to our date tonight.
It isn't until my last stop of the day that I realize I won't be seeing Merrin tonight like we planned.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Merrin
Have to cancel tonight. So sorry.
Sitting in my idling car in the parking lot, I stare at Jared's message, letting my mind screech into overdrive. Is he already bored with me? Was I too clingy? Did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? Did he meet someone new?
But then, another text comes through.
I'd give anything to be with you tonight, but you definitely don't want to be around me...
Attached to the message is a photo of a thermometer reading 102.4. The phone chimes again, and I open the newest photo, which is of Jared in bed with the covers up to his nose, his eyes red and puffy, skin pale with a sheen of sweat coating his T-zone.
He looks absolutely pitiful.
What's your address? I send back.
His reply is immediate.
You are NOT coming over. I will not risk infecting you with the plague.
I roll my eyes at his dramatics.
Just give it to me.
That's what she said, he responds.
He's trying to distract me, but I'm a woman with a mission on the brain and I won't be deterred.
Now, Jared.
The next message includes a picture of him trying to make an angry face, but it's too adorable for words, and thankfully, he actually attached his address.
Leaving my car running, I scurry back inside and run smack dab into Jeb. “Hey! Have you dumped the buffet yet?”
“Nope.”
“Great.”
The girls are all up front, busy cashing in their singles for bigger bills at Harper's counter, so I tip-toe into the buffet room and fill two tubs with tomato soup. Then I remember Jared's a big guy. I fill two more bowls with soup, grab four bags of fried noodles, and scour the leftover food, takeout container in hand. They're just going to throw it all away, so I toss a bunch of goodies into the styrofoam box, load up my haul in a plastic bag, and ninja-sneak my way right back out the door.
From the street, I stare up at Jared home, filled with a sudden feeling of inferiority. His house looks like it could eat my house for breakfast. The two-story home boasts a ton of windows, intricate stone work, and a two car garage. The grass is well kept and every scrap of mulch around each tree is contained with concrete landscaping blocks, but there are no flowers or shrubberies, pinning it as a definite bachelor pad.
It's no secret we have two very different lives, and we had two very different upbringings, but I don't let the insecurity that brings deter me from my mission.
Nervously fiddling with the plastic handles of the bag, I stop at the door and consider just leaving it right here on the stoop and running for my car. Jared doesn't want me here because he doesn't want to get me sick, and I understand and appreciate that, but I have to be honest here. There's a small, insignificant chunk of my brain, way in the back, that's telling me something's amiss. That it's all a lie. A cover up. A clever ploy to get out of seeing me tonight. And no matter how badly I don't want that to be true, I still squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for a crushing blow as I ring the doorbell. It opens exactly five seconds later and I'm greeted by a scowling Rhett.
“Hi, sorry to bother you but I brought your brother some dinner. Could you—”
“Nope!” Rhett's clipped word cuts me off.
“I'm sorry, what?” I stammer.
He moves to the side, back ramrod straight as he points to the staircase just behind him. “There's no way I'm risking my promotion at work just because my idiot brother came home with a stomach bug. He's up the stairs, second door on your left.”
The lack of charisma doesn't surprise me anymore and I don't even bother containing a hard eye roll as I step past him into the foyer. What does surprise me, however, is the lack of empathy for Jared. I mean, they're twins. Doesn't that mean they have some kind of unbreakable connection or bond that ties them together? He won't even take a bowl of soup upstairs to the person he shared a uterus with? Maybe my expectations are amiss. Or I've watched a few too many Hallmark movies. Who knows.
Rhett doesn't say another word before moving to the living room where he and the blond—who I now know is Jared's younger brother, Brian—are watching a game, so I seek out the kitchen all on my own and put all but one container in the fridge. Such a dude fridge, too. There are only three things. Pizza, ketchup, and beer. No wonder he's sick if this is what his diet consists of.
The upper cabinets are all glass, so I easily locate a bowl and pour some soup inside, along with a bag of fried noodles, not giving a single shit that I'm infiltrating someone else's kitchen. If Rhett wanted to help, he had the chance, and surely Jared won't mind, but those facts don't stop me from faltering once I reach his bedroom door. We still barely know each other, and bringing him dinner in bed is an awfully intimate gesture, but who else is here willing to help?
Oh, that's right, no one.
The door is quiet as I push it open with my elbow, and when I step inside I immediately spy the Jared-shaped bundle buried beneath the covers of his queen-sized bed. The navy linens rise and fall with his every breath, telling me he's already asleep.
Good. I can just leave this here and go...
Plush carpet silences my footsteps as I carefully set the bowl on his bedside table before tip-toeing away. I'm really getting a hang at this whole ninja thing. I'm like a shadow. Silent. Undetectable. A whisper in—
“Merrin?”
Dammit.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper, looking down to find sullen, glossy eyes staring up at me. “I brought you some soup but it can wait.”
His chest rises sharply, then falls flat with a sigh. “You're an angel,” he murmurs.
Something in the vicinity of my heart squeezes and I'm glad he can't see the dorky smile parting my lips.
“That's the fever talking. Just get some rest.” Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean in and press a hand to his forehead, and almost gasp at how hot he is. “Jesus, you're burning up. Have you taken anything? Tylenol? Ibuprofen? Anything?”
Jared shakes his head and I have to bite my lip to keep from telling him what a dumbass he's being.
