Chapter 1 #3
“What can I do for you?” Did he think she was the type of girl who offered her services for a fee? How dare he think so, just because she worked at Rif’s. “I’m not for sale, in case you wondered.”
His eyes widened in what she could only interpret as horror. “What? Oh my God, no. I didn’t wonder that. Not at all. What did you think? I was about to proposition you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Why else would you show up at my car and frighten me out of my mind? ”
“I noticed your car wouldn’t start. And wondered if I could help. Or give you a lift home?”
“One of the guys can take me home,” she said.
He hesitated, glancing toward the entrance. For the first time, she noticed a limo parked near the front of the club. “May I come inside? I’m getting soaked out here.”
Please, Jesus, don’t let him be a killer. She nodded and unlocked the door. He slipped inside, shivering. She became conscious of the worn cloth seats and ugly plastic dashboard.
“What seems to be the problem?” Jed asked. “I mean, with the car.” He smelled so good, like vintage shaving cream. The kind her father had shaved with. When she was small, she’d sat on the closed toilet and watched him shave. She remembered the cold ceramic against the backs of her thighs.
“It won’t start,” she said. “She’s old and tired.”
That made him smile. “Does she have this problem often?”
“Just last week. But then she started again, so I put off putting her in the shop. It’s so much money every time I take the old lady in.”
“I don’t know anything about cars, but I can have Thomas drive you home,” he said.
“Thomas?”
“My driver.”
“Oh, right. That’s your limo?” She gestured to the long black car.
He pushed his dripping hair away from his face. “The limo isn’t mine. We just rented it for the night. Those guys I was with own a high-end restaurant conglomerate and wanted to paint the town, so to speak. I’m not the type to frequent clubs.”
“I had a feeling.” Should she be offended?
“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.” His hands fidgeted in his lap. “Those ladies are very talented. ”
She laughed despite wanting to dislike him because of his limo and manicured fingernails. “They are.”
“You carry that tray like nobody’s business. I couldn’t help but notice the muscles in your arms.” He flushed and shook his head as he looked away. “Sorry. I’m not sure why I just said that.” He shivered again.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
“Very. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Please, let us take you home. The limo is nice and warm. I even have a few towels in there.”
“Okay, I guess so. You’re not going to murder me, are you?”
“Definitely not. Thomas won’t either.” He smiled as he ran both hands through his wet hair. “I’ll just wave him over.”
While they waited for the limo to arrive, Alissa texted Rif to let him know she’d gotten a ride home. She didn’t want them to worry when they saw her car.
Seconds later, the limo came their direction.
The driver, Thomas, dressed in a black suit, got out of the limo and opened the side door for them.
Next thing she knew, she was seated across from Jed Marsh.
She’d never been in a limo before tonight.
This one had black leather bench-like seats along both sides.
To her, leather smelled like money. Plastic bottles of water were tucked into cup holders.
A container of Marsh Vodka nestled in a bucket of ice.
“Where to, Miss Mann?” Jed asked.
“How do you know my last name?”
“I asked Rif,” he said. “I’ve known him for years. Because of work.”
She gave him the address of her apartment. Jed knocked on the window that separated Thomas and the rest of the limo. The glass came down, and Jed passed on the information to him.
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “Shall I turn the heat up? ”
“That would be wonderful,” Jed said. “Thank you.”
Alissa took the dry towel he offered and patted her face and hair. Jed did the same, rubbing his head with the towel like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Messy, damp hair made him seem younger and more approachable.
“I thought you’d be a Seattle-proper kind of girl,” he said.
She raised one eyebrow. “Do you think I’d be working at a club if I could afford Seattle?” She lived in an apartment building near the elementary school where she worked.
“Rif told me you’re a kindergarten teacher. In addition to your waitressing job.”
“That’s correct.”
He wrapped his towel around his neck. “Would you care for a drink? Something to take the chill off?”
“I’m not much of a drinker,” she said.
“Not even when offered the finest vodka ever made?” He shed his coat, revealing his expensively tailored blue suit.
After folding his overcoat in two and placing it on the seat, he shrugged out of his suit jacket.
The same neat folding and tucking away hinted at an orderly, tidy man. She liked that in a person.
“I love your modesty,” she said.
He laughed and reached for the bottle. “I’ll add some flavored sparkling water to it if you like.” The muscles of his thighs pressed against the fabric of his pants.
She swallowed, trying to focus. “I didn’t say I wanted any.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, you’re correct. I’m usually a better listener. You’re so pretty you make me nervous.”
She could say the same about him. But she wouldn’t. He probably heard the same line from a lot of women. This was a man who had it all—good looks, wealth, obvious intelligence. She didn’t need to feed his ego by letting him know how attracted she was to him .
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a little,” he said, as he poured a small amount into a tumbler, then added ice.
She watched as he brought the glass to his mouth and took a sip. “I guess I’ll have a little.”
“Great.” He opened one of the flavored waters and poured it into a glass, followed by a small amount of vodka.
She took it from him and stared into the rising bubbles before indulging in a dainty sip. All she could taste was the flavored water. “Not bad.”
“Thank you. Family recipe that goes back to the bootleg days.”
“Really?”
“I’m afraid so. I come from a line of criminals.” He grinned.
“Not now, though?”
He laughed. “No, we’re legit since prohibition ended. Our distillery has been making hand-crafted vodka and gin since before it was faddish to do so.”
“And you work with your father?” she asked.
“That’s right. He’s grooming me to take over in a few years.” For the first time, his sparkling eyes dimmed. Only for a second though, as if he didn’t want her to see any crack in his positive exterior.
The limo sped up. They must have entered the freeway. This time of night there wasn’t a lot of traffic.
“Is that what you want?” she asked. “To take over the family business?”
His eyes lifted toward the ceiling before coming back to rest on her. “I don’t think about it much. It’s what’s expected of me.”
“What do you study in school to ready you for running a gin joint?”
“It’s technically called a distillery.” He smiled and sipped his drink. “Business. That’s my degree anyway.”
“From UW? ”
“No. Harvard.”
She almost spit out her drink. “Harvard. Well, that decides it. You’re too smart for me.”
“I suspect it’s the other way around. My father and grandfather went to Harvard. They’re also major contributors to the school. I can’t say I got in on merit only.”
Was he simply acting humbly, or did he believe that to be true? She knew a little bit about not feeling good enough or as smart as the people around her.
“How about you? Where did you go?” he asked.
“I graduated from Western Washington. They have a good teaching program.”
“Is that what you always wanted to do?”
She nodded, remembering when the idea had first come to her.
It had been the year after her parents’ death and her teacher, Mrs. Calder, had been so kind and nurturing to her, letting her stay after school to help prepare art and science materials.
Mrs. Calder was young and pretty. Alissa had admired her so much.
One day , she’d thought, I want to be a teacher .
She’d decided later she wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.
Children were little and fragile at that age.
With Alissa’s quiet personality, she knew younger children would be the best fit for her.
“It’s pretty much what I always planned. ”
“What made you sad just now?” He poked the tip of her shoes with his.
She looked at him over her drink, surprised. “Did I look sad?”
“The eyes always give a person away.”
“My parents died when I was ten. The year after that I decided I wanted to be a teacher. Those two thoughts go together, which is why I looked sad.” The vodka was going to her head and making her lips loose. She never told strangers this much information.
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
“I miss them every day. Still, even after all these years. ”
“What happened?’ he asked. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s okay. I can talk about them. I like to, actually.
I mean, not the way they died, but just that they were here with me for my first ten years of life.
I loved them very much. Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean they’re not my parents still.
Does that make sense?” Too much of an explanation.
Jed Marsh and his sympathetic eyes were upending her.
“Yes, absolutely it does.”
“They died in a car accident. I was with them, but I wasn’t hurt. I always think about that—I came out of there without a scratch. It’s made me both apologetic and extremely interested in making the most of my life by giving to others.”
“Where did you go after they died?” He leaned closer, as if he wanted to touch her.
She wished he would. “I was adopted by a wonderful woman. Maddie took me and three other girls into her home and her heart. Just like that I was part of a big family.”
“That sounds nice.” He loosened his tie. “I’m an only child.”