8. Jamie
8
JAMIE
A s soon as I walk into the venue, I immediately understand why Wesley has been acting giddier than a kid at Christmas in the lead up to tonight.
The pop up event is set up nearly identically to the previous ones we've been to but with one major difference.
And what a difference it is.
A conveyor belt snakes its way from the kitchen window and around the groups of tables before disappearing back into the kitchen. There’s no ordering from a menu—guests are just taking plates off the belt as the food sails past them.
What’s on the belt, you ask?
Dessert, of course. It is something Wesley organized, after all.
Desserts of every shape, size, color, and culture are meandering around the space, tempting everyone who lays eyes on them—myself included.
I haven't even tasted anything yet, but I think out of all the places Wesley's dragged us to before, this one might just be my favorite.
I say he drags me, but I actually do enjoy our bi-weekly dessert nights. I get to spend time with my best friends and try new confections—what’s not to love?
Even so, I'm glad Phillip and I were able to talk him into an every other week arrangement for these things instead of his original suggestion of “whenever something interesting pops up.”
For anyone who doesn't speak Wesley, “whenever” translates into every other night at minimum, especially when it comes to sweets.
How that man doesn't have a crown on every single one of his teeth is a mystery I may never solve.
I smile at the thought then scan the tables to see if I can spot them.
No luck.
A few moments pass, and I still can’t find them.
I really don't want to have to fight my way through the crowd to get to the host stand, but it looks like I might have to.
Right as I'm about to brave the crowd, I see Wesley.
Is he…
He absolutely is.
This grown ass man is standing on his chair, waving at me like a cheerleader waves her pom poms.
All the other guests in the V.I.P. section (because of course, that's where he is) are glaring daggers at him, but he doesn't notice.
Social convention dictates that I should be embarrassed too, but I'm not.
He's always been a demonstrative guy. I swear he was born with his heart on his sleeve.
It's something I've always admired and envied. That and the way he refuses to be anything other than his authentic self.
I wave back with a smile then skirt around the crowd at the host stand.
“Sir. Sir!” A frantic waitress rushes over to me. “You have to check in at the host stand.”
My eyes roam down the length of her body. That tiny uniform leaves nothing to the imagination.
“My party is actually here already. Right over there.”
I gesture vaguely toward my friends.
Her eyes narrow, and she fists her hands on her hips.
Damn, I love a woman with an attitude. They’re always the most fun in the bedroom.
“Really? And the names of the people in your party are?” she demands.
I get it. I probably wouldn't believe me, either. I can only imagine how many people have given her that line today.
“Wesley made the reservation for three as soon as your company announced the event. If he had to give names for the whole party, they'd be Phillip and Jamie. Phillip's already at the table, so that leaves me, Jamie.”
Her eyes widen in surprise.
“Wesley. As in the Wesley Brooks? Sofia’s teacher?”
So that’s how he got into the V.I.P. section. I should have known.
“That’s the one,” I say, flashing her my most charming grin.
Her posture changes so fast it nearly gives me whiplash.
A second ago, she was all elbows and attitude, but now she’s all but twining around my ankles like a cat.
I press my lips together to keep from chuckling.
This always happens when women figure out who I am—or in this case, who I know. It’s more predictable than a sunset.
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Jamie.” She rests her hand on my arm. “Let me personally escort you to the table.”
Her flirtations are in no way subtle as she walks me over to my friends, but I don’t mind. Phillip had been right at the barbeque—I really do need to get laid.
Maybe my three-week dry spell ends tonight.
I realize that doesn’t sound like a long time, but for someone who uses sex as a way to avoid feeling lonely, it’s an eternity.
“I know I’m in the general section tonight,” she says when we reach the table, “but don’t hesitate to call me over. I’m happy to get you anything you might need.”
I’m sure you would.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, uh…”
“Candie,” she says, tapping her nametag.
“Thank you, Candie.” I wink.
She saunters off, putting an extra sway in her hips. It’s artless and crass, but it’s still something I can’t look away from.
Julia would be so disappointed in you right now.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and turn to focus on my friends.
When I meet their eyes, Wesley’s got a wry smile and Phillip just looks so exasperated.
“Do you really need to do that whenever we go out?” he grouses.
“Oh come on, Phillip,” Wesley chides, “let the man have some fun. You and I might be here for desserts, but Jamie’s always on the hunt for a different kind of sweet.”
I glare at him, but that only makes him laugh.
“You sure you’re done indulging your sweet tooth? Because I’ve been waiting for you to get here to indulge mine.”
“You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“I know. That’s what makes me such an excellent friend.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“So, how has meeting your students gone so far?” Phillip asks, attempting to change the subject.
“It’s been good so far. There are a few duds, but most of my students seem to have a good head on their shoulders. You?”
“About the same. Although meeting Avery was not at all like I expected.”
Wesley nods in agreement.
“How so?” I ask.
“I knew she was beautiful, but that’s not what threw me. She has this grace about her that is just immediately captivating. I couldn’t look away from her no matter how hard I tried.
“I got so flustered, I completely screwed up the meeting agenda. Everything was done out of order.”
My hand freezes halfway to the conveyor belt, and Wesley drops his fork with a clatter.
“You went off your meeting routine?”
Phillip holds up his hands helplessly.
“I could barely string a sentence together, truth be told. It was a minor miracle that I managed to ask any of the questions I’d planned to ask. Honestly, if it weren’t for the chess game, I would have just gawked at her the whole time.”
“What did you get from that?” Wesley asks.
“She’s brilliant. A little reckless, but ambitious for sure—at least she is when she plays chess. It’s definitely a unique play style, but it suits her.” He smiles. “She almost beat me.”
“Holy shit.”
I don’t think any of his students had even come close to beating him. For her to do that, especially the first time they played, was nothing short of impressive.
“Was she some kind of whiz kid in school?” I ask.
“Member of the high school chess club.” He chuckles.
“We really shouldn’t be that surprised.” Wesley shrugs. “She’s got no training in pastry other than what she’s taught herself, and look at what she can do already. That’s not a stupid woman. It’s part of the reason I pushed hard for Reginald to award her the full scholarship. Her potential is endless.”
“It really is,” Phillip agrees.
Wesley seems to suddenly deflate.
He pulls a rice pudding off the conveyor belt and dejectedly stabs his spoon into it.
“I’m glad your meeting seems to have gone well even if you were a little flustered. Mine was a disaster, and I’m worried she’s not going to come back.”
“What happened?”
“I was an idiot is what happened.” He shakes his head ruefully.
“It can’t have been as bad as you think,” I say.
“I couldn’t stop flirting with her. It felt way more like a date than a consultation, even if she ended up crying at the end.”
“She was crying?”
“Yeah. She didn’t say much about it, but I got the feeling her head chef treats her like she’s trash. That was when she started bawling. I don’t know if she mentioned it to you guys, but she told me the biggest reason for applying to AGA was to be able to get away from him.”
Phillip shakes his head. “No, she didn’t say anything about him to me, but then you’ve always been good at getting people to open up to you. I mean, I had to learn that in school, but you? You were born with that gift.”
“Some good it did me. I came onto her like a horny teenager and then made her cry.”
“I don’t think you made her cry,” I say gently. “It sounds like she’s not in the healthiest of work environments. She was probably just stressed out and you just asked the wrong question or something like that.”
“Doesn’t excuse the flirting.” He scowls.
“Did she seem upset by the flirting?”
“No. She seemed to be enjoying it, but it was still wrong.”
“You’ll do better next time, just like I will,” Phillip chimes in. “We just have to remember she’s our student. There’s nothing more off limits, and we all know that. I’m sure now that we’ve had that initial meeting with Avery and are more aware of the effect she has on us, we’ll be able to fully control ourselves next time.”
“She really got to you guys, didn’t she?” I ask.
“Don’t tell me she didn’t have an effect on you. I saw the way you were looking at the video I showed you.”
“I haven’t met with her yet. I’m sure I’ll have no problem controlling myself, especially now that I’ve heard your stories.” I scoff. “There hasn’t been a woman yet who could ruffle me that badly, and I highly doubt she will, either.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Wesley mutters.
His tone worries me.
We tend to have the same taste in women. If they struggled this much, what chance do I have?
No. You can’t think like that or you’ll fail before you even try.
You will control yourself. She’s just a woman.
A gorgeous woman whom I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
I’m going to need a distraction if I’m going to go into this as a professional tomorrow.
Apparently, the universe was listening because as we’re leaving, that waitress—Candie, I think—flags me down.
“Excuse me, sir, I think you might have left something at your table. Can you wait a moment while I check? I’d hate for you to leave without it.”
We both know that’s a damn lie, but I stop anyway.
“Have fun.” Wesley smirks.
And then I’m alone with Candie—well, as alone as you can be in a full restaurant.
“Will you wait?” she asks, looking up at me through her thick (and probably fake) eyelashes.
“I don’t see why not. It’s not like I have anyone to go home to,” I say pointedly.
She makes a show of going over to the table and searching for something. Then once she’s sure no one’s looking, she scribbles something onto a napkin.
When she comes back, she presses the napkin into my hand then loudly says, “I must have been mistaken. My shift ends in less than five minutes. I think my brain might be a little scrambled. I’m terribly sorry for wasting your time, sir.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand.
“It’s not a problem at all, Candie. I hope you’re able to enjoy your time when you get off.”
“I’m sure I will.”
I wait to open the note until I get to the parking lot. The last thing I want to do is be responsible for her losing her job.
Red Corolla. Butterfly sticker on the left rear bumper. Follow me home?
xo,
Candie
She’s certainly not shy about what she wants. I like that in a woman.
I just hope she’s enough of a distraction to get both Avery and Julia out of my head.