3. Chapter 3
I’m exhausted. My feet and back hurt from standing all day. And the powerful aroma of frying oil clings to my clothes. I could go on and on but I won’t because, again, I’m too fucking tired.
It’s not an awful life. Running a successful diner has its rewards. It’s fulfilling to know that I’m making it on my own. But it always comes at a cost, doesn’t it?
I inherited The Diner—yes, that’s the name—when my grandfather passed. According to him, things back in the day were simpler. A diner was called The Diner and a malt shop, The Malt Shop. Of course, there’s the occasional name added to the beginning, like Joe’s Pizzeria, but my grandfather was a simple man, to the point .
On his deathbed, he told me that when the time was right, a name for The Diner would come to me. So, until I figure out when the right time is, it’s staying as is. I’m not foolish enough to fix something that isn’t broken.
God bless that man and his quirky ways while also having the patience to raise a child who needed things neat and orderly. We were polar opposites, me and my grandfather, but the love that poured out of him was good and pure. He believed in love, laughter, and friendship. Three things I’ve never been good at.
When he passed, a good ten years after my grandmother, my sole focus was making sure his diner lived on. The only reason he held on as long as he did was because of me and Emma, I’m sure of it.
I have employees who depend on me to run a successful restaurant so they can bring home a paycheck and feed their families. Even if The Diner isn’t my dream, there’s still this need to keep the legacy of my grandfather alive.
I pull my small, dented, faded-red SUV into my garage and cut the engine, needing to take a minute to gather my strength and pull my aching body from the vehicle.
All I want to do is go inside, get naked, and sit under the hot spray of the shower, maybe even with a cold beer in my hand.
As soon as the front door closes behind me, I slump against it, shoulders deflating like a lead balloon, drained of all energy. My keys clink when I toss them, along with my wallet, into the glass dish that sits on my entry table.
The relief when my feet slip out of my shoes and I make my way to the kitchen, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it free from my jeans, has me letting out a giant sigh .
I head straight for the fridge and pull out a beer, popping the top before taking a long pull from the bottle. There’s something about a cold beer that hits you in the bones.
I turn around and prop myself against the counter. The bottle is halfway to my lips when a flicker of movement in my living room catches my eye.
Now, I’m not saying the sound that comes out of my mouth is anything dignified. I will fully own up to that.
“What… the… fuck… Jasper?” I say, my hand going to my chest like I’m clutching some kind of string of imaginary pearls. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me! What are you doing in my living room?”
“Did you have a dog when you were little?” he asks, standing next to my fireplace mantel.
Wha…?
He’s wearing black leather pants and his signature white boa jacket, the complete opposite of my grease-stained jeans, T-shirt, and flannel. He looks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Jasper’s mop of wavy curls sticks up in all directions while his bracelet-adorned wrists jingle as he turns the pages in my photo album. He’s a vibrant burst in my otherwise ordinary living room.
“Wait? What?” I ask, focusing on the question and not on the beautiful man in tight leather pants in front of me. A man can only take so much.
“Growing up, did you have a dog? I don’t notice any signs of…”
“No, no, no, no…” I quickly shut the photo album and pull it from his grasp. I do not need him seeing my buck-toothed, pimple-adorned face of childhood.
“I don’t see any signs of pets in your family photos. I kinda had you pegged for a dog person? ”
“Jasper, what are you doing here, and how did you get in?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
He looks at me and winks before taking the beer out of my hand and bringing it to his lips, taking a sip.
And… now I’m fixated on those pouty lips as they curl around the bottle. No matter how much he infuriates me, he always stops me in my tracks with his flawless beauty and grace.
Focus Olly.
He hands me the bottle back, stepping up close, our chests inches apart as he looks me straight in the eyes.
It’s hard to focus. I’m also finding it hard to breathe.
“Do you ever just need to feel something? Anything? Like, if you don’t show proof you exist in the world, you might be nothing more than a speck of dust.”
There’s worry in his eyes, almost as if he truly believes he’s nothing. Jasper Valintine is far from nothing.
“We all want to feel something. It’s scary to think we might be insignificant in the grand scheme of things,” I say.
And then, something I don’t see coming…
Jasper’s lips crash into mine and a gasp leaves me.
What is happening? Is Jasper kissing me?
Of course, I know he’s kissing me, but we don’t kiss. Well, I have always wanted to kiss but…
He tastes like strawberries, and his lips are soft, like cotton candy. The metal of his lip ring is a cool contrast to the heat of his tongue as it dances along the edge of my lips, causing my dick to twitch. The kiss is quick and deep before ending slowly and breathlessly .
“Jasper?” I breathe out, confused.
“What?” he asks, stepping back and turning away from me, casting his gaze at another picture sitting on my mantel. Clearly ignoring whatever the glorious fuck that was. “I was bored and in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”
He was bored? Right. Fine. If he can pretend it didn’t just happen, then so can I.
Even if it stings a little.
“Stopped by? It’s called breaking and entering.” My voice is filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
“Nah, you told me where to find the key, so if you didn’t want me to use it, you wouldn’t have shown me what rock to look under.”
“That was for emergencies!”
“Well, maybe it’s an emergency.”
My eyes go wide. Fuck, what if this is an emergency? He fainted a few weeks ago at Ink Me, the tattoo shop where he works.
“What’s wrong? Is everything ok? Do you feel okay?” I go to feel his forehead, but he bats my hand away.
“No, I’m fine. Geesh, lay off, will you? I got enough of it when you forced me to let you stay with me. Thank you very much.”
I scoff, steam practically billowing from my ears. This is the part of Jasper I will never understand. He acts as if I annoy the fuck out of him, but he’s the one always inserting himself into my life. It’s not that I mind, really. But then he just kisses me?
“You had a concussion!” Someone had to watch after him. He doesn’t have any family, or at least none that he talks about. What else was I supposed to do?
“You know what, Jasper? Fine!” I say, my voice filled with so much frustration I could burst. “I’ll just magically figure out how to stop caring. Okay? And another thing, maybe don’t insinuate something is an emergency if you don’t want people to show they care.”
“Yeah, well, I never asked you to.”
“ Arghhh ! When will you see you have no choice?” We’re all worried about him, and he has no say in that.
Jasper has a heart of gold but a destructive path a mile long.
“I have to go. I’m meeting up with friends,” Jasper says, turning for the door.
I want to huff a laugh, but I don’t. These so-called friends we’ve never met, who seemingly haven’t noticed that something has been off with Jasper for the last couple of months.
“Jasper! You know it’s going to be okay, right?” I soften my tone. “You’re going to be okay.”
He turns, looking at me over his shoulder, giving me a sad smile and a small nod before walking out the door, closing it softly behind him.
I tilt my head back and blow out a breath. I don’t know what it is with Jasper and me. We have this weird friendship. It’s not as if he gave me a choice in the matter, which sounds all-too-familiar with this group of friends, but it’s new and we’re like oil and water, complete and utter opposites.
Friends have never been my forte, but Spencer was sweet enough to bring me into the group. Okay, again , I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. These people will bear hug you and never let you go.
When I was first introduced to Jasper, I thought he was hotter than a motherfucker, as well as crazy and reckless .
His visits to The Diner became more frequent, and once the weekly family dinners started, Jasper was always there, always in the background. I could feel his eyes on me. Then he started joining the conversations. Well, at first he just stood there. It was borderline creepy. Now he’s a bundle of constant questions.
Surprised should have been my response to finding Jasper standing in my house, but I wasn’t. Startled, yes, but surprised, no.
He’s always welcome here, but walking into my house when I’m not expecting to see a person standing in my living room in the dark could give anyone a heart attack.
Ever since Jasper fainted, hitting his head, I’ve been worried. He acts as if it’s no big deal, but it is.
Don’t even get me started on trying to get him to make a doctor’s appointment. That was a fight. Eventually, he reluctantly agreed. He wouldn’t tell me when it was, but since he has been extra reckless and moody the last few days, I’m assuming something is going on.
No matter how much we bicker or disagree, I could never turn my back on him. I don’t do that to people I consider my friends.
Underneath the facade, Jasper has a heart of gold. He is kind and caring. He is the kind of person who will always be there when you need him, day or night.
Jasper is a wandering soul lost in the world, searching for something unknown, even to him. He is an old-soul hippie… but with leather rock-star pants.
I finish my beer before grabbing a new one and heading to take a shower.
My house is not huge by any means; two bedrooms and two bathrooms, but it’s my cozy haven, adorned with rustic wooden furniture and shelves lined with my favorite cookbooks and romance novels. I don’t have a lot of things hanging on the walls, but I have various knickknacks, including a collection of weird salt and pepper shakers I’ve accumulated over the years. Like the cock and balls set I got from Spencer as a Christmas gift last year.
One of the few things I did was update the kitchen. Before, the tiny kitchen was closed off. If you spent too much time in it, you would feel like a caged animal. I need to breathe when I’m in my happy place.
I need space to try out new recipes for The Diner and my real passion: baking.
Baking is so different from cooking up burgers and fries. No constant rush to get orders out.
Before I even make it down the hall, my phone rings. I’m not sure who I was expecting, but the slight disappointment that niggles in me when I see my sister’s name is new.
“Hey Emma, to what do I owe the pleasure? Isn’t it like two in the morning over there?”
A self-deprecating laugh echoes through the phone. “Tell that to Phoebe. She doesn’t seem to know how to tell time.” Emma jokes. “I have failed her as a mom.”
Her sarcastic humor makes me chuckle. “She’s two.”
“Yes, well, your niece should really have a job by now.”
“How is she?” I ask, missing my little peanut. Emma lives in Paris with her husband, Scott. He seems like a nice man, and he makes her happy.
After Grandfather passed, she flew off to Paris to follow her dreams of being a fashion photographer. I couldn’t be more proud of her, even though I miss her dearly. We’ve made plans for me to go out and visit her next year. I want to hold my niece in my arms. The last time I saw them, she had just been born.
“She’s been better. She has an ear infection.”
“Oh, no, the poor thing. I think sleep is not in either of your futures.”
“What’s sleep?” she muses. “Tell me something good, Olly.”
“Well, I think I might finally do it.”
“You’re gonna open the bakery?”
“I think so…” I say, still hesitating.
I talk Emma through my ideas, and how I’m going to handle The Diner. We chat for a while, catching up on what’s been happening in our lives. She always has some new, exciting story to tell, while mine’s more of the same old, same old.
Every time I hear her voice, I realize just how much I miss her. I make a mental note to call her more, not that the time difference makes it any easier for us, but we make it work.
We end the call, and I finally make it into the bathroom. I twist the knob to hot, anticipating a hot soothing shower, but then decide against it, letting it fill before I sink into my whirlpool bathtub with a big sigh. Yep, after hearing about Jaxon’s tub, I also splurged and upgraded. I can see the appeal. My body constricts from the heat before my muscles loosen and relax in the steaming water.
It’s been a long day.
My mind drifts to the restaurant. I need to hire a manager at The Diner. It’s time. Talking with my sister just proves the point.
Seeing everyone in our group find love and start settling down, one by one, I find myself itching for something different. Wondering what that would look like for me. Maybe finding a partner and taking the chance of following my own dreams.
I’m at a crossroads.
That all just brings me right back to Jasper. I would be fooling myself if I said I didn’t have feelings for him. But it could never work. Jasper doesn’t do relationships and, well, Jasper is a nomad, while I like structure and routine.
But that kiss, that kiss , was full of hunger I was too scared to crave. And now I don’t know if I can go back.
But, if I’m being honest, I don’t think Jasper thinks of me that way. I’m not his type. I look like I belong in a greasy diner with my flannel shirts and baseball caps, not walking a runway in Paris.
Yes, he flirts with me, but he flirts with everyone. I’m sure that kiss meant nothing to him. Jasper is looking for meaningless hookups, and I’m not. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, but I can’t help getting emotions involved. So, for now, I just live with the small glimpse into the fantasy I’ve created in my mind and focus my attention on matters other than dating.