Chapter Eleven
Dani
The internet was an incredible thing—nearly unlimited information available with the click of a button. Yet as I clicked to the tenth page of my latest search results, I wondered if I’d hit a limit. Chances were, if I hadn’t found what I was looking for on pages one through nine, I wouldn’t find it on ten, eleven, or twelve, but I skimmed the page and clicked to the next one anyway. My brain was blanking hard on ideas, and doing this at least felt productive.
My gaze fell to the clock in the bottom corner of my screen. Ardena opened in six minutes, and the clinking of silverware being polished and tables being set floated up the stairs to where I sat in Jillian’s office.
I’d worked at the bar most of the day, the kitchen staff flowing around me in a well-practiced routine that was equal parts fascinating and relaxing to observe. It was like a tightly choreographed dance; everyone knew exactly what to do and where to go, moving in sync through a thousand complicated steps made to look simple from how well practiced they were.
When the serving staff arrived at four, I’d moved up to the office, though I could have called it a day. Probably should have, seeing as my brain felt like a chewing gum bubble that had been blown to its limit and would burst across my face if I attempted to fill it with another thought. What I needed was to go home, eat an early dinner, and get a full night’s sleep.
Except I didn’t want to go home yet. Didn’t want to eat dinner on my couch by myself and give my mind a chance to think about all the things I didn’t have to worry about within the safety of these walls. Things like nasty words, hateful comments, and violent people.
I hated that they’d gotten to me. That they’d hooked themselves into my mind and made it impossible for me to let them go. I wanted so badly to be the type of person who wasn’t bothered, who could simply brush them aside or be strong enough not to care, but I wasn’t.
I was just afraid.
Afraid to go home to the stillness and quiet of my apartment. Afraid to be there alone.
Yesterday, when I agreed to work from home, I hadn’t realized how afraid of it I was until Jase offered me a different option. That note on my car made me feel exposed, like I’d been locked in a glass box that anyone could see into at any time, and his invitation to work here was like pulling a curtain shut. At least for part of the day.
I knew my brain would eventually stop randomly producing worst-case scenarios. I’d stop tensing at random noises in my studio, and the tiny apartment would go back to feeling like the home I’d started to create. But right now, it just felt like another place where I might be exposed without anyone to turn to for help.
That was a downside to moving around so much: not having people. No boyfriend to come stay with me, no neighbor to keep an eye out, no friend’s couch to crash on. I’d never minded before. I had yet to meet a jar I couldn’t eventually open myself, and if I needed a cup of sugar, I went to the store.
But now? Being not alone sounded really nice.
I could probably stay with Robin if I asked, but would that be weird? We were friends, but maybe not to the level of “crash on your couch because of a potential stalker” friends. That seemed like it should come after “get sloppy drunk and black out on your couch” friends, which we hadn’t yet achieved, though that one at least felt close.
Then again, this probably wasn’t that big a deal. Last night had been fine. This morning too. There’d been no sign of anyone following me, no creepers lingering outside my apartment. Even my social media had cooled off. Now, I just needed my keyed-up anxiety to follow suit.
Five more fruitless pages down the search-result rabbit hole, and I finally gave up. I closed the browser and leaned back in Jillian’s absurdly comfortable office chair. That, along with the antique-style wooden desk, was the extent of the furniture in the small space. Unlike the dining room, she’d kept her office simple.
I stared at my spreadsheet. “This should not be that difficult,” I said to myself.
“What’s that?”
I startled, smacking my hands on the desk to stop from tipping over the chair. “Jesus,” I said as I took in where Jase leaned against the doorframe. Even relaxed, his tall body filled the space, claiming all my attention. It really wasn’t fair someone could look so good while scaring the shit out of you.
He smirked. “Sorry. I was just coming to check if you were still here.” He nodded at my laptop. “Problem?”
I sighed. “Just trying to come up with a few more silent auction ideas for the gala. We’ve already got a bunch of smaller items, like a massage package at a local spa and a weekend getaway at the hotel where the dinner’s being held. Plus a date night here, courtesy of Jillian.”
He nodded at that, his icy-blue eyes smoldering—yes, smoldering—as he paid attention to my every word.
He had a way of doing that—listening so fully his body went still, his every focus on the person speaking to him. I’d seen him do it with Jillian before. His staff too. I was still growing used to it, so accustomed to fighting not to be spoken over in the corporate world. Or by my mother, who pretty much lived in the corporate world, so I guess that made sense.
“But I’d like to find at least one or two bigger items to help us reach our fundraising goal,” I continued, looking back at my incomplete spreadsheet. “So far, none of our board members have found someone to donate a boat.”
“Does it have to be a boat?” he asked.
“A new car would work too,” I said, only half serious.
“Motor vehicles. Got it.”
I sent him a sidelong glance. “You know someone with a hookup?”
He flashed his brow. “That’s me. I exclusively hang out with luxury car dealers and yacht owners. I just choose to walk everywhere for the exercise.”
My gaze swept over his broad chest and shoulders, traveling down his torso to what I was sure were incredible abs. They were hidden beneath his chef jacket, but I remembered how firm they’d been against me the day before, how strong his arms had felt wrapped around me. Only his forearms were visible now, but the sight of those along with his hands were enough to make me shiver.
I dropped my gaze, swallowing my Seems to be working comment. That would officially be flirting, and while I was willing to let myself fantasize about his stupidly hot body—because, come on, there was no stopping that—flirting felt like taking it too far.
My phone rang, saving me from myself.
“Sorry,” I said as I dug through my bag. I found my phone on the third ring, catching sight of Robin’s name before I silenced it.
“No worries, I should get back down.” He grabbed the side of the doorframe as he turned to leave, a muscle in his forearm flexing in a way that shouldn’t have made me want to rub my legs together. And yet...
“Right,” I said, dragging my attention to shutting down my laptop. “I’ll get out of here.”
“Oh no, that’s not…” He held up a hand. “You can stay as long as you want. You’re not in the way.”
My phone buzzed with a text.
Robin: Drinks tonight. Nonnegotiable.
I flashed him the phone. “I’m being summoned anyway. You know of any good bars around here?”
Robin had a favorite spot—or jawn, as she called it—a few blocks north of the office, a trendy sort of dive bar decorated with an eclectic variety of lamps that featured live music, but it was on the opposite side of the city from my apartment, and I didn’t have my car with me. It had been nice enough weather, and Ardena was close enough to my place that I’d decided to walk. Public transit was an option, but I wasn’t super familiar with it yet, and right now, the idea of taking it at night had me more anxious than going home. There was always a ride app. The weekday fares might even be low enough for me to justify using it for a single drink.
Jase’s brow furrowed. “You realize there’s a bar downstairs, right? You sat at it for eight hours today?”
I gave a dry laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not drinking here. That’d be…”
His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight to lean against the doorframe. “Go on. That’d be what? You got something against my restaurant?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Of course not. I just…don’t want to be in the way. During the day is one thing, but I’d feel like I was overstepping by being here while you were open.”
He tipped his head back slightly, studying me.
I met his gaze for a moment but shifted away, my chest growing warm under his scrutiny. Not with shame, but something similar to that exposed sensation I had with the note. Like he could see right through me. Only this wasn’t scary. At least not in the same way.
Before I could overthink things, my phone rang again. Robin.
Jase stepped into the hallway and pointed at my phone. “You should stay for a drink. Dinner too. I’ll give you the employee discount, seeing as you work here now.”
I rolled my eyes, ready to argue, but he was already gone, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. I looked at my phone for one more ring, then answered.
“Hey,” I said. “You interested in getting dinner too?”
“This is the only place I’m ever getting drinks from now on,” Robin said as our server, Neela, set down our second round.
I smiled in thanks as Robin took a sip of her fancy cocktail and moaned loud enough that the older gentleman at the table beside ours looked over. Neela suppressed a grin as she turned away, and I brought my own fancy drink to my lips.
I couldn’t remember what was in it, but tart sweetness exploded on my tongue with the first sip, dissipating into a tingly warmth that burned just enough to be alcohol but also might have been magic. It turned out the right bartender could do as much with tequila and pomegranate juice as Jase could with a carrot. And he could do a lot with a carrot.
Why did that sound so dirty?
“I think I’m drunk,” I said as I pulled another crostini onto my plate. It was topped with something creamy that was too delicate to be cheese, bits of artichoke that practically melted on my tongue, and something else that gave it a zing and left my mouth watering for more. We hadn’t ordered anything yet, but Neela had brought them out to us “courtesy of the chef, “ and they were the only thing keeping me from crossing over into truly drunk territory.
I hadn’t had hard liquor in months, and two rounds on an empty stomach was asking for trouble. Based on the flush in Robin’s cheeks, she was in the same boat. Maybe this would be our “get sloppy drunk and black out on your couch” night.
That seemed like a horrible idea for a Tuesday.
“Drunk enough to spill all the delicious details about a certain ex’s older brother?” Robin asked. “You tap that yet?”
I almost choked on crostini. “No,” I coughed out before managing to swallow. “There’s nothing to tap.”
Robin snorted. “There’s a whole damn maple tree just waiting for you to climb him.”
I chuckled at the visual, but the thing my mind clung to was how little I’d thought of Jase in terms of being Alec’s brother these past few weeks. At the start of working together, I’d assumed every little thing he did would remind me of Alec, yet aside from some similar physical characteristics, they had almost nothing in common. And even the things they did have in common, they went about in totally different ways.
Like how Jase was as much a planner as Alec, but where Alec tended to assume the wants and needs of others and then went ahead and made one perfect plan based on those assumptions, Jase assumed nothing and instead stacked contingency upon contingency to account for every possible outcome. I didn’t even think he did it consciously sometimes; he was that proficient at it.
“It’s not like that,” I said, feeling a little weird reducing Jase to a sexy tree, even though I’d had more than one dream about climbing him. It wasn’t my fault if my subconscious was a tree hugger who wanted to swing from his branches and slide down his trunk.
Food.
It was definitely time for more food.
Robin gave me a look. “So he sends out free appetizers to the entire restaurant, is that it?”
I waved her off. “He’s just being nice because he feels bad for me with the whole note thing. Just like you.” I waggled an accusing finger at her. “Don’t think I don’t see through this weeknight drink invitation.”
She brought her hand to her chest in mock offense. “I would never. I just needed an in to this swanky spot, and you were it.”
“Ah, so you’re using me,” I said with an exaggerated nod.
“Yup. Purely selfish reasoning over here. And now that I’ve tried it, I’ll have to start living off of canned beans and frozen peas so I can afford to come back every week.”
“Wait till you try the food for the symposium,” I said. “I’m still not recovered from the tastings, and those weren’t even the finalized dishes.”
Just thinking about how good they were was all the motivation I needed to push through these next two months and all this event would bring.
More press. Probably more hate mail.
More death threats…
I took a gulp of my drink.
Robin’s eyes turned serious. “How are you doing with everything? I didn’t get to see you yesterday after it happened.”
“I’m…okay,” I said, proud to realize it was true. Yes, I was still anxious, but—and maybe this was the booze—I was also content. Right at this moment, anyway. And a bunch of other times over the past six months, if I thought back on it.
It wasn’t just the new job or this particular city or any one specific thing. It was that all of it together was starting to feel like it “fit.” Like after years of trying to wedge myself into someone else’s mold, I had maybe finally found the one that was right for me.
That was the feeling I wanted to hold on to—not the fear squirming in my belly at what might happen, but the warmth spreading through my limbs as I sat next to my friend, and the giddiness bubbling in my chest as I savored this delicious drink.
I felt alive right now, more so than I had in a long time, and I didn’t want to analyze it or worry about whether I’d feel this way again tomorrow. I just wanted to enjoy it.