Chapter 11
I’m not even on the clock when I see Matt walk through the front door. He’s not wearing his normal attire, but I don’t think much of it because his expression is…not normal. I tie the apron around my waist and ignore him. Jen can deal with him.
I walk to the back to clock in when I feel a tall presence behind me. I turn around and jump. Matt’s eyes widen.
“Scare easily?” he asks.
My heart is racing, but I won’t admit it. “What are you doing back here?”
He leans in, pressing in numbers on the keypad. I take a step back, watching it happen before me. The numbers work, so I whip my head back to him.
“What?” I shake my head, awfully confused. I try to say something again, but only nothing comes out.
“So, is this how you train all the new people? Just gawk at them?” he says.
I blink so much that I notice I’m blinking too much. I don’t like it. “Excuse me?”
He grabs an apron from the hook and ties it around himself. Now I’m laughing because he looks ridiculous in it. I laugh, walking away from him.
I stop and turn back to ask him something, but I bump into him instead. “What the–”
“Yeah?” he asks, taking a step back.
“Are you messing with me?” I ask, and recognizing his cologne from his truck. He smells…like a man.
He smirks, trying to hide it. “No.”
It’s the worst lie I’ve ever seen on mankind.
“Matt, whatever you’re doing here––stop. I’ll make you a sandwich, but you need to get on that side of the counter.”
“This is the most you’ve spoken to me,” he mentions. “Aw, I know why.”
I watch him talk to himself. He’s acting like he’s in a movie, dramatically figuring out a math problem. He’s staring into the air, deep in thought. Then he breaks to look me in the eye.
“You think you won. Well, guess what, Amby? I work here now.”
He brushes past me as I stare at nothing.
There’s no way he works here now. This is a joke.
I turn to follow him, but I’m stunned at the sight before me.
He’s already at the counter, talking with a customer next to Jen.
There’s no way she would allow him to be here if this was a prank.
I wait until she’s done with the customer to call her name.
She’s explaining something to Matt when she turns to me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says to Matt.
I stare at him for a moment. He’s too tall to be in here, too big. Too rude, too arrogant, and too stubborn. Gah, I could shave all his hair off his head when he’s sleeping.
“What is he doing here?” I ask Jen.
“Matt?”
I nod, widening my eyes. Who the hell else am I talking about? I narrow my eyes waiting for her reply.
“He’s training right now.”
“Wait,” I’m blinking like crazy again. Goddamnit. “What?”
“Yeah. He works here now. He’s training.”
“No,” I mutter.
Her brows furrow as she studies me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Matt turns around to read the menu above him.
He’s so calm and so broad and so…annoying.
Jen returns to the front counter while I find busy work like refilling the utensils, takeout bags, and straws.
I’m ignoring Matt and Jen. She’s running through everything on the computer end.
It’s very simple, but she’s giving away all her tips.
When she places a hand on his bicep…first of all, why is she touching him?
Secondly, her hand makes him look huge. I’m not okay with any of this.
He’s here to win this war, but I’m going to make sure this is the most memorable job of his life. I’m not going down without a fight.
A few customers are lingering outside, so I brace myself. I am a professional, and even near someone I most definitely dislike, I can still act professionally.
“Jen,” I say. “Take Matt in the back and give him a tour. I’ll take care of the customers that are coming in.”
“Oh,” she says, shrugging. She looks at Matt. “Okay.”
Matt says, “Actually, I was hoping you could show me the back, Amber.”
I’m thrown off by that. I remind myself to be professional, but in the face of my enemy, that’s a lot harder than it sounds.
“Okay.” I nod. “Sure. Follow me.”
He follows me to the back.
“Okay, so this is where we clock in and out as you already know. Some more common sense things, don’t forget to clock out. If you do forget, come back here or call someone. It causes more problems than good. Okay?”
“Got it,” he says.
“These are always the clean aprons. At the end of your shift, put your dirty apron in that basket. Never hang it up.”
He nods, and I hate this so much.
I point to the lockers next to the aprons. “These are the employee lockers.”
“Which one is mine?”
“Huh?” I glance at the lockers and shrug. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Jen. Wait.” I open a locker and it’s empty. “Come closer.”
His nose scrunches for a split second as he takes a step closer.
“Aw, it’s a little too small for me to shove you in there.”
He chuckles, wiping his mouth.
I hold in my smile, reminding myself that I need to be professional.
“Moving on. This table is where we eat on our breaks. The fridge is over there. I hope I don’t have to say it, bachelor.
Don’t leave your gross stuff in there. It smells bad enough.
Okay, so moving out of the room. This wall is a mess.
I have tried to organize it, but you know, I’m not the only one who works here.
This is where all the supplies go when they’re ordered.
As you can see, it’s all over the place. ”
“How do you get anything on the top shelf?” he asks, reaching his hand up. He can comfortably reach it. “You’re like yay tall.”
“There’s a step stool, asshole.”
He laughs, turning his tongue in his mouth. Why is he doing that? I don’t know. Please stop.
“You won’t be needing it now that I’m here,” he says with pride in his tone.
“Yeah, that and other things. Like maybe they won’t need me anymore. You’re like two of me.”
His lips pull to one side. “I am. Maybe you should run out now.”
Is that what he’s doing? I glare at him. No…no, he’s enjoying this way too much. “Sometimes someone orders too many supplies and this shelf is where it ends up, so please always check here first. Now for the fun stuff. The food.”
I run briefly through general knowledge of expiration dates and what to do with expired food. He nods, observing where everything is.
“That’s it,” I say to him. “Now you need to learn where to press buttons on the screen, accept payments, and make the recipes.”
“Okay.”
“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” I say before I walk away.
His brows furrow. “Why is that?”
“You’ve gotten on my last nerve by being hired here, but I’ll give it to you. This is good.”
“Mm.” His face twists. “Not as good as trying to sell my truck. Or the Superman move down the stairs.”
That makes me laugh, even though I wish it didn’t. He looks at my teeth, and I feel immediately uncomfortable. I drop the smile and walk to Jen.
“Jen,” I say as she makes a coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me about Matt?”
She doesn’t say anything.
Matt is behind us when he says, “It’s not her job to report to you what goes on around here. Leave Jen out of it.”
“I’m not blaming her,” I murmur.
Matt nods. “It sounds like you are.”
I snap, “Some warning would’ve been nice.”
“And what would that have done?” he challenges me.
I step closer to him, all my friendliness from earlier is escaping my professional facade. “It would have–”
The front door opens, so I don’t finish my sentence.
“Welcome to the Grind Stone,” Matt and I say in sync. His eyes flick to mine, but I’m ignoring him. “What can I get for you today?”
The customer lists off a few sandwiches and drinks combos. He throws in a few bags of chips. Matt is watching over my shoulder as I tap on the screen and ask for payment.
“Is this the new guy?” the customer asks.
“Yeah. Hi, I’m Matt.”
“Nice to meet you, Matt.”
I start making the sandwiches as Matt continues to chat with the customer. It’s an awkward conversation. I think he just told Matt, “You look like you belong in some kind of sport or something. You’re all built and tall.” I brush off their conversation as Jen helps me make the sandwiches.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m–”
“It’s okay,” Jen says. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”
“He’s not taking a hint.”
Matt is still chatting up the conversation. It’s finally flowing now that Matt can brag about hockey.
“What hint?” she asks.
“I’ve told him a dozen times to stay out of here when I’m working, and now he’s working here? I don’t know, Jen.”
“Well, you can’t quit.”
I huff.
“This is your fun job, remember? It’s still fun, even if Matt’s in the mix. Are you done with the other two?”
I nod, handing the sandwiches over. I stay at the cutting board, annoyed that Matt’s behind me. I can hear the smile in his tone, and the sound makes me sick to my stomach.
“Alright, Matt. Nice to meet you. The next time I come in, you’ll be making the sandwiches.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt says.
I clean the little mess I made with the lettuce.
“What’s the matter, Amby?” Matt says, leaning down to look at the ingredients. “You’re looking a bit tense. Is it the sound of my voice?”
“That you were born at all actually.”
He blows out hot air. “Then you would be living such a boring life right now.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. “I would be able to sleep at night if you didn’t exist.”
The doorbell rings but Jen’s already greeting the couple.
“You lose sleep over me, Amby?”
I glare at him. He should be counting his blessings that I am controlling myself.
I grab his wrist, but he pulls away. I glance down at his hand. No touching it will be then. He follows me to the back.
“Matt,” I scoff. Anger is simmering at the top, and I’m trying not to let it explode.
“Amber.”
“If you’re working here, we need to steer clear of each other. I’ll treat you like any other coworker–”
“No, you won’t.”
“I won’t, but we need to figure this out if you’re going to work here.”
“It sounds like you need to figure it out, so stay out of my way until you do.”
I scoff. “Stay out of your way? I have to train you.”
“I catch on quick.”
I storm off and help Jen with this order. While I’m waiting for the bread to toast, I feel Matt’s presence behind the counter. He’s gone to a crazy extent. I mean, he’s working here. Here at the Grind Stone. I’m not wrong for thinking this is insane. He is insane.
And maybe if I play this right, he won’t win.
Professional Amber is who I’m going to be…and she is kind, neutral, and never a hater.
The next day.
Before I can even sit at my desk, Mr. Robinson is already barking orders at me.
“Amber! My office.”
I pivot towards his door.
“We've got a new divorce case,” Mr. Robinson says without preamble as I enter. “I need you to prepare the documents to serve the husband with divorce papers. And read through all of this,” he adds, dumping a stack of files on his desk.
“Of course, Mr. Robinson. I'll get right on it.”
I gather the folders and retreat to my desk, diving into the sea of legal jargon and marital discord. As I'm skimming through the preliminary documents, a name catches my eye: Pearson.
I blink, sure I must be seeing things. Pearson isn't exactly an uncommon name, right? There's no way it could be related to Matt. The universe isn't that cruel…is it?
With a growing sense of dread, I flip to the next page to check the husband's last name. Cress.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm preparing divorce documents for Matt and Grey's parents. Because my life isn't complicated enough already.
I sit back in my chair, trying to process this new information. And I wonder if Matthew knows about this? Surely, he must. I can’t ever ask because of little things like confidentiality and HIPAA.
So instead, I take a deep breath and dive back into the paperwork like this couple is like any other couple.
If she needs counseling from a paralegal like myself, I think I might be screwed because she would recognize me.
I could never mistake the woman who yelled at me when she came to pick up her son from school.
She was livid I tackled him down the stairs.
By the time I finish for the day, my head is spinning with legal terms and the weight of knowledge I can't share. I practically sprint out of the office, eager to put some distance between myself and anything that has to deal with Matt.
For the first time all year, I go to the gym.
I need to release some steam, and exercise is a great stress relief.
Once I do the Stairmaster and lift a few weights, I realize I’ve missed this and need to come more often.
But it doesn’t matter how hard I push myself, there’s still that nagging knowledge that my life is somehow revolving around the number one person I cannot stand.