Chapter 10
TEN
jade
Two nights later I’m back to working the hostess station.
“I’ll put you on another training shift next week,” Cecily says irritably when she catches my disappointment. “We have a lot of regulars tonight, and I’m not subjecting them to an evening of trainee mistakes.”
When I walk out of the office, I spot Reeve coming from the server station and immediately head his way. “What did you do, give Cecily the play-by-play of my screwups from the other night?”
“Pretty much,” he says. His eyes linger on the front door. I turn to see what he’s staring at: two leggy women in bodycon dresses and stilettos that look like they must be twins. Pig.
“It was my first night. I didn’t do that badly.”
“Never said you did.”
“That seems to be the impression Cecily got.”
He manages to tear his eyes away from the twins.
“I gave her the facts, that’s all. If you’re upset we’re not working together tonight, don’t worry; sounds like you’ve got a long way to go before Cecily turns you loose with your own tables.
” He smirks and walks away while I stare after him, wishing he’d trip and fall flat on his face.
It’s another busy night, and I put Reeve out of my mind until work is over, when Lori stops me on my way out to gush about Reeve. I tolerate it briefly before telling her I need to get home. Doesn’t anyone else see what a jerk the guy is?
The parking lot is quiet except for someone muttering a string of curse words.
Reeve. He’s leaning over the open hood of his Bronco, forearms bare where he’s rolled up the sleeves of his collared shirt.
His tie is gone, and the buttons just below his throat are undone, offering a glimpse of smooth skin. I let myself leer for a few seconds.
He stands up and drops the hood of the car down with a hearty “Fuck!” before noticing me. I’ve never seen him scowl before.
“Car acting up?” I ask.
“Clearly.”
“So call a tow.”
“It’s fine,” he says without glancing my way. “I can get her going tomorrow morning.” Then, like he’s just realized I might be useful, he looks at me. “Hey, can I bum a ride back to campus?”
“I love how you assume I have no plans other than heading back home.”
“Yeah, like you’re going anywhere dressed like that.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a few hundred girls who would drop everything to zoom over here and give you a ride.”
He comes toward me. “I won’t. Don’t tell me you’re really going to make me wait here for a ride when we’re going the same way.”
“No girl has ever made you wait before?”
He’s in front of me now. Behind him, the parking lot floodlights cast a halo around his head, but his features remain in shadow. “No. And something tells me you’re not going to be the first.”
I’ve never noticed his scent until now. Even after a whole night in the restaurant, he smells fresh and distinctly male. And even though we’ve stood close like this a dozen times in the restaurant, out here in the empty parking lot, it feels too close.
“Whatever,” I say, turning toward my car. “Let’s go.”
As soon as I start the engine, he changes the radio station without asking, then decides to ask invasive questions. “So you pretty much hate working at Somerset, yeah? What’s the deal with that?”
“I don’t hate it.” I drop my water bottle into the cup holder, where it crunches unpleasantly on something—the earrings I’d removed before my shift the night Reeve started at Somerset. I move the bottle to the other cup holder.
“Really? You’ve been all cranky and shit since I started there.”
“Yes, since you started there.”
“Seriously?” He turns in his seat to look at me. “You hate me working there that much?”
Guilt flushes through me. “I’ve been working there for months and asking for a server position since day one. Meanwhile all you have to do is smile and you get the job because you’re a celebrity in this town.”
“That’s not why.”
“Okay, not a celebrity but people know you.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I got the job because Cam’s mom knows the owner. I wasn’t disagreeing with the celebrity part.”
I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Heard that one before. Usually, though, the girl is naked and out of breath when she says it.” He flashes that cocky smile while I stare, mouth open, until I realize I’m endangering both our lives and turn back to the road.
God, he is infuriating for so many reasons, not the least of which is how hot he looks when he’s being a completely misogynistic asshole.
I blink and turn away. “So is that how you managed to steal my server position away from me? Cam’s mom pulled some strings? God, that’s such bullshit.”
“I have some experience. I was a waiter back in high school. I just wasn’t allowed to pour wine.” He gives me a sidelong look that’s ripe with humor.
I smile and turn back to the road. “I can tell.”
“Why do you even want to be a server anyway? You like pandering to rich snobs who barely look you in the eye?”
“It’s called tips. And I don’t make any.”
He reaches into the cup holder where the earrings are rattling around and picks up a single red post earring. “What do you need money for? You got a pile of rubies and diamonds just chilling in your car.”
“They’re rhinestones. It’s cheap garbage.”
He holds the earring up to the light from oncoming headlights. “Shafer red,” he notes.
“Pure coincidence, I assure you. But if you like it, it’s yours for five bucks.”
“That hard up, huh?” His jaw twitches. “Look, maybe . . . maybe I can throw you a little something from my tips.”
“Feeling guilty, huh?” I shake my head. “Well, thanks, but you’re the last person on earth I want to owe any favors.”
I know without looking he’s got a dirty little smile on his face.
“If you want to make money, why don’t you get a job at Cameo’s for a few months?”
I almost choke. “The strip club?”
“Why not? You don’t have to dance if you’re that uptight. Be a cocktail waitress.”
“Okay, let’s make that the last piece of unsolicited career advice you ever give me.”
“What? It’s a compliment.”
“No, it’s not. No woman has ever taken something like that as a compliment without having to convince herself first.”
“Okay, Jade. And I’ll stop speaking for all males when you stop speaking for all women.”
I snort. Ain’t gonna happen.
“So what the hell are you money hungry for anyway? I thought Lenni said your dad was loaded.”
“Loaded? Yeah, right. She must not have been talking about money.”
“Your parents aren’t paying your tuition?”
“Well, they are, but I’d hardly call them wealthy. Anyway, I’m saving for grad school, which they refuse to pay for unless I choose a program they approve—which will happen when hell freezes over.”
“What program are you after?”
I almost lie to him. I’m so tired of the looks I get when I announce my plans to someone—the doubt, the surprise, the amusement. But what do I care what Reeve Dalton thinks? “I’m going to Spain for an art history program.” I glance over at him but he looks unaffected.
“I didn’t know you were studying art.”
“I’m not.”
“You speak Spanish?”
“Eh. Working on that.”
“So you don’t know anything about art or Spanish, but you’re moving to Spain to make art all day. Cool. Makes sense.”
“I’m not making art. I’m studying art history,” I huff.
“Uh-huh. If you need a little Spanish tutoring, hit me up.”
“You speak Spanish?” I ask doubtfully.
“You think I’m a meathead, don’t you?” He gives me a satisfied smile, like he finds this pleasing.
“I don’t think about you, period.”
“Right. Except all night long at work when you glare at me, roll your eyes, and stare at my arms.”
I scoff. “No wonder you’re always so cheerful, you live in an alternate reality.”
There’s a beat of silence. “I’m not always cheerful.”
“Um, okay,” I say, not sure what to make of that.
He clears his throat. “So tell me about this grad school thing in Spain.”
“It’s not actually a grad program, but I’m not going for the degree anyway. I’m going for the life.”
Reeve nods. “Yeah, I can see that, especially for you.” His words are surprisingly gratifying.
It’s the first time anyone has heard my plans and not felt the need to share all the reasons I shouldn’t do it.
“You’ll end up falling in love with some rich foreigner and living your weird, artsy lifestyle in Paris or some shit. ”
“You can stop right there. Falling in love is the last thing I want to do.”
“Finally something we have in common.”
“Yeah, I’m not about that. I’m about being free and trying something new. How bad can it be? Even if the art thing doesn’t work out, at least I’ve gotten out of here and lived.”
He’s silent for a moment. “I always thought it would be cool to live abroad. Not gonna happen for me, though.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do. If I played football on any other continent, I’d be playing soccer.”
“You don’t have to play football,” I point out.
“Football is my life.” He stares straight ahead. “Nothing else matters.”
“I know you love it and all, but isn’t it pretty stupid to base your entire life around a sport where one little snap of bone could end your whole career?”
His head swivels toward me. “Damn, you’re brutal. How are you going to come right out and say something like that?”
“Like you’ve never thought about it.”
“I’ve thought about how it’ll never happen; not to me.”
“Fine. Be shortsighted. I just think you could be good at plenty of other things.”
“Yeah, right.” He hesitates. “Like what?”
“Teaching. If you could stop yourself before telling your students how much smarter you were expecting them to be, you could be a good teacher.”
“But do teachers have people calling their names and asking for autographs when they walk down the street?”
“That’s your main motivation for choosing a career? That’s even more pathetic than being in it for the money.”
“Oh, right.” He laughs. “Like you can’t fathom the idea of being an attention whore.”
“I know you didn’t just use the word whore to describe me.”
“Lighten up,” he says unapologetically. “You and I know what we are.”
“I know what I am, and I’m nothing like you.”
“Too bad for you. Maybe you haven’t been admired enough to know it’s the best feeling in the world. A hell of a lot better than love.”
I really want to argue with him, but unfortunately I happen to agree with his theory that love isn’t all that great.
I was convinced Sam and I had a happy, one-in-a-million relationship, and even that ended with me getting dumped so suddenly and so harshly I still have whiplash.
“Well, I’m sure you never run out of admirers,” is all I say.
“Exactly. Hey, hang a right here.”
“I know how to get to your house,” I argue but turn right anyway.
“I’m not going to my house. Drop me at that little bungalow up on the left.”
“You really just conned me into giving you a ride to some booty call’s house.” I shake my head as I slow to a stop in front of a cute little Craftsman-style house.
Reeve grins proudly. “Thanks for the ride. Just for that, I’m going to give you a cut of my tips after all.”
“No, thanks,” I say, trying to sound like I really mean it.
He pulls out his wallet and peels off a ten-dollar bill that he deposits on the console between us. “See you around.”
“Ten dollars? Are you serious?” It must be a fraction of what he made in tips tonight. “Keep it, Reeve.” I crumple up the bill and throw it at him, but he’s already out of the car and it lands ineffectually on his empty seat as he shuts the door.
I squash the urge to scream obscenities out the window and instead take off without looking back at him. What an asshole.