Chapter 16
Jamie
The kitchen was a disaster zone. Theo had rage quit after Marissa told him to redo all the sauces, and we had less than an hour to pull this catered birthday dinner together or we were screwed.
Oh, and I’d wisely dropped off Lady and Tramp at BowWow so that I could focus on work. But the day care would be closing soon.
I was really starting to envy Theo. If only I could walk out, too, but my guilty conscience would never allow me to leave Marissa high and dry.
“Marissa, I’ve got to get my dogs.”
She cast me a desperate look. “I need you, Jamie. I can’t do this without you!”
“I’ll come back—”
“There’s no time. We’re already behind. Please don’t do this to me right now.”
I clenched my jaw. “It’s not my fault we’re in this situation! Taking on the bridezilla rehearsal dinner when we already had this booking—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t say no without risking the wedding.”
“We’re understaffed.”
She nodded, a look of defeat crossing her face. “I’ve let it get out of hand. I’m sorry.”
Her voice cracked, and damn it, I couldn’t stand being the bad guy.
“Let me see if I can figure something out.”
“Oh god, thank you!” She grabbed me in an almost painful hug, the scent of cinnamon, chocolate, and flour wafting from her.
“Don’t thank me yet. I have to make some calls and see what I can do.”
She pulled back. “I’ll let you do that. And, uh, I’ll give you some comp time next week.”
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and called the BowWow contact number.
The phone rang twice, then Sammi’s harried voice came on the line. “BowWow, this is Sammi.”
“It’s Jamie. I’ve got a work emergency.”
“Uh-huh?” Sammi sounded distracted, and there were voices in the background. “Thanks, Rose, hon. Your poodle looks adorable!” She paused. “Sorry, Jamie. You were saying?”
“Just that I have an issue at work and—”
Abruptly, Hank’s voice came on the line. “Jamie? What’s up?”
“It’s work again.”
“Running late?”
“This is more than a little late. I can’t leave. I just wanted to call and check if it’d be okay for someone else to pick up the dogs.”
“Do you already have someone in mind?”
“I’ll have to call around and see who’s available.”
“Don’t bother,” Hank said. “I can watch them for you.”
“I don’t want you to have to stay at BowWow. This will take a while.”
“So, I’ll take them to my place. I can text you my address. Come by when you’re ready.”
“Are you sure? That’s a big ask.”
“What are friends for?” His voice lowered. “Just don’t tell anyone about the VIP service you’re getting.”
I laughed. “I won’t. Thank you so much.”
Marissa called out, “Tell them I say thank you as well!”
“My boss,” I explained.
“No problem. But just to be clear, I’m doing this for you, not her.”
My chest warmed. Maybe Hank was offering only friendship, but friendship was pretty damn good sometimes.
I disconnected and turned to Marissa’s expectant face. “Okay, let’s get this done.”
“Yes! I’ll handle the cake. You finish Theo’s sauces.”
“Got it.”
We worked in tandem, each of us anticipating the other’s moves, as I finished up the entrees while Marissa painstakingly frosted the cake. Luckily, we’d made the appetizers ahead of time or we’d really be in trouble.
By the time we had everything boxed up and ready for pickup by the family, fifty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye.
I took off my apron, discarded my plastic gloves, and washed my hands. “I better get going.”
“See you later. Thanks again, Jamie. I don’t know what I’d do without you!”
I let myself out the door and headed for my car, guilt swirling in my stomach. Marissa and I made a good team—and I was her most reliable employee—but every day it was harder to clock in and rush around fulfilling someone else’s dream.
And the more stressful the job got, the more I thought about quitting.
I drove to the address Hank gave me, thoughts meandering along what-if paths.
Could I make a new business work? Would Marissa forgive me if I did?
And if I failed, would she take me back?
I couldn’t stand the idea of a life working in someone else’s kitchen, never free to create something of my own.
Maybe if the dog biscuits didn’t work out, I really would open that bakery my family always suggested. At least it would be mine.
Hank lived in a little townhouse connected to several others. They had a sandy stucco exterior, with red trim and cute tile roofing.
I hopped out of my car and rushed up the walk. Hank opened the door, greeting me as I reached the porch.
“Hey, Jamie. Come on in.”
The dogs were dancing up a storm behind him. He held Bruno in one arm, and probably a good thing or the poor guy would get stampeded.
“I should probably just take them and go…”
“We just made dinner. Have you eaten? You could come in and relax a minute before you take off. You look tired.”
“You have no idea.” I sagged against the door frame, my adrenaline crashing now that I wasn’t rushing around.
He chuckled. “You poor thing.”
He grasped my arm, just above the wrist, and tugged me gently forward. “Come in. Corey made some barbecue chicken. It won’t be catering quality, but he serves it at the diner, and it’s pretty tasty.”
My stomach rumbled. I’d eaten a few nibbles early in the day, but as things got hectic, I didn’t have time to even notice my hunger, much less do something about it.
“That sounds really good. I didn’t know Corey cooked at The Diner.”
“It’s a new development. Their short-order cook bailed, so he got promoted from washing dishes.”
“And you’re sure he won’t mind me eating his food?”
Hank drew me forward, all the way into a one-armed hug that surprised the hell out of me. His voice rumbled next to my ear while his arms held me. “Of course he won’t mind. There’s plenty.”
His body was so big, so warm. My heart skipped a beat, then pattered a confused rhythm.
Bruno squirmed between us, and I drew back hurriedly. “Sorry I don’t have any samples to share as a thank-you this time. We were catering a dinner, so no extras for us.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Hank said easily, setting Bruno down and giving Lady a fond stroke on the top of her head. “These two are sweethearts.”
“Even Tramp?” I asked skeptically.
But actually, my troublemaker dog was sitting on his rump, tail wagging, looking so well-behaved that I barely recognized him.
“We had to set some ground rules,” Hank admitted. “But he’s a good boy as long as he gets enough playtime.”
I winced, nodding. “You probably think I’m totally irresponsible, having a dog that needs so much attention when I work so much.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Hank said, alarmed.
“My brother adopted him originally, before he had his daughter. She was allergic. They really didn’t want to surrender Tramp at the shelter, so I took him in.”
Hank started toward the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow. “Did you already have Lady?”
“No.” I took a seat at the bar while Hank dished up plates of chicken and roasted vegetable medley. “When Tramp was so hyper and mischievous, I thought a friend would help. I adopted Lady. Probably not my brightest idea, but he seems happier to have another dog around.”
Hank nodded thoughtfully. “Lady’s a calming presence. She’s a good influence on him, even if it doesn’t totally solve his need for activity.”
The dogs begged shamelessly while Hank prepared our food.
“Where’s your brother?” I asked, startled. “I don’t want to intrude…”
“He’s eating in his room. He’s been on some sort of gamer campaign on his computer.”
“Oh.”
He rolled his eyes. “How he’s the one with the beautiful girlfriend, I’ll never understand.”
I laughed, even as my stomach clenched at the reminder. “Sorry I can’t be that for you.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could think twice. Hank shot me a look.
I lifted my hands to my blushing cheeks. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
He leaned across the counter and tugged my hands down. “Don’t hide your face.” His eyes met mine. “I’m glad you’re here, even if you’re not a date, okay? I didn’t mean to make it seem like I wished you were something else.”
“Still…” I murmured.
He stroked my upper cheeks with his thumbs, seeming thoughtful. “Your skin is very smooth for a guy.”
“Uh…thanks?”
He dropped his hands hastily and leaned back. His gaze went over my shoulder. “Hey, Corey.”
“Hi.”
I turned on the barstool to catch a glimpse of Hank’s brother. He was slim where Hank was broad, but he had the same coppery hair color, minus the beard. I could see the similarity in their features, especially around the eyes.
Corey carried his mostly empty dinner plate over to the sink. “I didn’t know you had someone over.”
“This is Jamie,” Hank said.
“Hi, Jamie.” Corey’s gaze grew more intense. “Isn’t that the name of the date you had a few weeks ago?”
“Funny coincidence,” Hank said before I could confirm or deny. “Jamie’s just a friend.”
“Right, of course,” Corey said with a grin. “I was worried you’d gone bi while I wasn’t looking.”
“Nope,” Hank said, “but there’s nothing wrong with that. Fox will kick your ass if you say there is.”
“Fox?” I asked.
“Our cousin.” Hank picked up a plate of food and carried it to the table, then drew out a chair. “Come sit, Jamie. Corey’s headed back to his gamer den.”
His tone was pointed, and Corey snorted. “I feel so loved, man.”
“The food looks great, Corey,” I said. “Hank said you made it?”
Corey blushed. “Uh, yeah. It’s no big deal. I had to make it like five times at work, so I learned the recipe.”
I smiled tentatively. “I know how that is. Well, thanks for letting me crash your dinner.”
“No problem.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to my gamer den, anyway.”
Hank sat down across from me with another loaded plate.
I cut a bite of barbecued chicken breast and hummed at the flavor. “He did a good job with the basting. It’s not too dry, and the sauce didn’t get cooked out of it.”
“High praise from a skilled chef like you.”
“Oh, I’m not a chef.”
“You cater fancy dinners,” Hank said, nudging my foot again playfully. “I’d say that qualifies.”
“I’m an assistant at best.”
“Stop being so modest,” he said. “Own your talent. Brag about it. If you don’t, who else will?”
“You, apparently.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
“So, are you the best groomer in the land?” I teased. “Let’s hear you brag.”
“I really am,” he said, yet he sounded so confident and matter-of-fact, it didn’t come across as boasting. “I love BowWow. Sammi lets me do as much grooming as I want, but she’s also willing to cover a couple of the pain-in-the-ass gigs that I hate.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, well, sometimes it’s a picky client who will just complain no matter you do. Sammi is great about sucking it up and doing those jobs, so they can’t blame me. As the owner, she has the freedom to tell them to try another salon if they’re not happy. And Westies.”
“Westies?” I asked with a chuckle. “But they’re so cute.”
“And they have so much hair,” he said with a groan. “They’re adorable, but a real challenge to get the styling just right. Usually, I handle the large breeds, because I’m stronger. Sammi tackles the little finicky dogs. It works for us.”
I nodded. “What about poodles? They’re big and kind of a pain, aren’t they?”
He grinned. “Yeah. We kind of split the difference there. I’ve mostly gotten it down with our current clients, though.”
“I didn’t even consider the idea that people might be picky about how you do the groom.”
“Oh, hell yeah. It’s just like being a hairstylist,” he said.
“We have to take people’s vision of what they want and make it a reality, and some people have really ridiculous ideas of how their dogs should look.
And don’t get me started on the dogs that haven’t gotten good care and come in all matted up.
Sometimes all you can do is shave the poor thing. That never goes over well.”
I winced, casting a glance at Lady and Tramp, sitting by the chair, gobbling up the bites that I opted to share. I’d never felt so glad I had a couple of short-haired dogs. They might be hyper at times, but their coats were pretty low-maintenance.
Before I knew it, my plate was clean. I helped Hank clear the table and rinse the plates before loading the dishwasher.
“Dinner was great,” I said with a sigh. “I should probably go though.”
“You could stay awhile,” he said. “I was just gonna put on a movie.”
I should leave. It had been a long day, and now that I was pleasantly full, I was drowsy. But I couldn’t bring myself to turn down his company, even if it would be the smarter move.
“Okay, sure.”
“Great.” He grabbed the dish towel and dried his hands, then passed it to me. When he did, he inhaled audibly. “Damn, you smell good.”
Goosebumps broke out over my skin. “Uh, yeah, it’s tough to get rid of the smells after hours in the kitchen.”
He drew back with a smile. “Well, better that you bring your work smells home than I do.”
I laughed. “Guess so.”
He led me to the living room and dropped onto the sofa. I eyed the space beside him, then the recliner to the side, torn.
Hank patted the cushion next to him. “Come here. The recliner’s view of the television isn’t as good.”
I joined him on the sofa, keeping a few inches between us as Hank navigated the channels.
“What do you think about 50 First Dates?” Hank asked. “Some people hate Adam Sandler. Or maybe you’re not a fan of rom-com?” His cheeks pinked up adorably above his beard. “It’s my guilty pleasure, but we can watch an action movie or something instead.”
Ah, toxic masculinity, there you are.
I nudged his shoulder. “I’m gay, Hank. You don’t need to worry about choosing a manly enough movie. 50 First Dates is cute. Put it on.”
“Okay,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “Guess that was silly of me.”
“Nah, just a very straight guy concern,” I teased.
“Guilty.”
He started the movie and settled back, shifting around a little, and before I knew it, our hips and thighs were pressed together. Hank extended an arm along the back of the sofa.
I sat tensely, trying not to lean in, until he made a little scoffing noise and tugged me against him.
“Relax, Jamie. I don’t bite.”
“I just didn’t want to…uh…cross any boundaries.”
“Just get comfortable. I’m not worried about it.”
I let myself curl against his side, eyelids growing heavy as I watched Drew Barrymore singing and painting, oblivious to her amnesia.
If only I could stay here forever, just like this, I’d be happy. My heart gave a forlorn throb in my chest, and I recognized that I was playing with fire.
It just felt too good to stop.