Chapter 42
SAMANTHA
Things are moving fast, and I am desperately trying to move on. Even if I miss him and hate him at the same time, his messages are less than horrible.
I just know we are not suitable, and he does not need me enough.
If he did, he would have made a real effort and come and claimed me.
My rented apartment in Austin is cute. The super cool commercial kitchen also rocks. Being a complete lunatic and needing to stay busy, I slam into meal production.
I spend more of Harry’s money, and I put it, and my time, to good use.
Things are coming together faster than I imagined, and for the first time in a really long time, I have flow. Maybe he and I were not supposed to be together.
To love.
To marry.
To have kids.
Maybe my role in life is to simply help others.
I pitch three large veteran and adoption agency locations the idea to provide them with healthy affordable meal models and the recipes, and they are receptive.
I tell them my aim, and they agree to receive free sample meals to consider. I then start cooking, packaging, and dropping them off.
After the first few days, one veteran assistance location locks.
They want me to provide them with the blueprint, ingredients, and exact details of how to affordably feed and provide nutrition to their financially struggling veterans.
I cannot believe it, and it is touching being on locations and seeing the heroic veterans in need.
As I help build out a more detailed model, to purchase food, to cook, and the actual menu and blueprint for the locations, I continue with my primary plan.
I keep cooking and delivering the sample meals to locations two and three.
It is full on, but I feel like I’m doing the right thing.
I also volunteer at a city mission, on their meal side. I want eyes on the ground because there is a chance my model will work for even more locations.
The work is not exactly five-star Michelin level cuisine, like I have done in Rome, Paris, Miami and London, but it’s good to give back and learn.
It is also feeding my soul, and I feel like less of a failure. My life plan is developing, and it’s becoming simple.
I will use all the money he sent to do this. Firstly, I will try and lock in three locations in Austin.
I will then move around more states. I will see the country I love, and I will help more people in need across America.
City by city and state by state, I will try to help people everywhere, and if I one day find a guy and maybe have kids later, then great.
If not, I will simply help others. Kind of like Mother Theresa! Help and have no sex.
Yikes.
If I can find two or three locations a month and make two or three hundred people healthier a month, I will feel good.
My spirit will also hopefully rise, again.
Besides having a broken spirit, I’m a mess, inside and out. Partly because I’ve not come since leaving him.
I decided to give up on orgasms; they are a thing of the past, like men.
As I help cook in the city mission, I wipe sweat from my cheek and catch my breath. It is full on work, but it’s important work.
It’s day three for me in a row, and it’s late afternoon in the building. As the late sun streams in, I help the usual staff cook their meals.
There is something about volunteering that is good for the soul.
I am unsure what it is, but it does help my broken heart.
After we finish cooking, we move the large full pots and dishes onto the long tables, and someone gives the go ahead.
The doors are opened, and folk in need come in, forming a line. As I have observed over the last few days, most people are gentle.
Many also know each other, and colorful banter begins.
Some of the locals are funny, and most are older folk. They give each other a hard time, and several of the cooks dish out playful comments besides the warm food.
As I scoop creamy mashed potatoes with cheese and garlic onto people’s plates, they stream past.
My phone chimes, and I yank it out fast to avoid slowing the queue or getting a raised brow.
Good luck.
I shake my head to clear it, fast.
It was from my pal Cassidy in LA. She must finally be having that breakdown.
As I focus back on placing potatoes and parsley on the plates moving past, I try to perfect my delivery.
People are moving quickly, and there is barely time to smile and take in faces. People are clean, friendly, and thankful, and someone has put music on.
As I go to put another dollop of creamy potatoes on a fresh plate, I notice a navy suit behind it in the distance.
“What the—” I say, splashing potatoes all over the ground.
It’s him!
Him, him, and he’s now talking to our cooking supervisor. I can tell she’s buying
whatever he is selling, and my stomach tightens fast. I don’t like it! When she laughs and flicks her long hair, I clench my teeth tight. “Oh, shit!”
“Honey, are you gonna hit me or what?” I look down and hit the plate hard with potatoes. “And what about parsley?”
The person gets a distracted handful, and they move on, grumbling.
I watch the suited intruder, who removes his jacket and makes a comment. The supervisor laughs and starts to look playful.
“Bastard,” I mumble, “do not buy it!”
Suddenly, the supervisor nods, turns, and points our way.
“Oh, God,” I growl as he steps out of the kitchen. He then disappears in the crowd as he walks behind us busy servers.
I am close to panicking, and I prepare to flee.
Before I can move, Harry is standing next to me, and my heart pounds out of step. As Harry assists the old gravy server, she shuffles away from me.
The woman has stepped the wrong way, and no one should stand next to him.
No one!
We look at each other, and I have hatred in my eyes. Pure hatred.
Somebody clicks their fingers loudly, and it shakes us out of it fast. “Are y’gonna serve me, pretty boy?”
Grumpy smiles and hits the plate with gravy.
I shake my head, cursing the universe. “Please, God. No!” I say low.
The next person in line is old Marge. Marge The Card. I hit her with potatoes and parsley, then I force a smile.
“Thanks, honey.”
Marge sees Grumpy next to me, and she slows. She then flicks her imaginary long hair and tries to flirt. Kill me now. “Now, who are you, cutey?”
“I’m taken,” Grumpy says flatly and without emotion.
“By who?”
I know he can’t say me. No way!
“Her,” Grumpy says, motioning my way.
“The hell he is!” I huff out fast. “He’s just the gravy guy.”
As I hit the next plate with potatoes, Grumpy leans towards Marge. He then whispers low, “I’m her man, and I’m getting her back.”
“Hmmm. Well, good luck,” Marge says.
“Do not encourage him,” I say angrily. I then think on my feet. “I’ve got other guys on the go, already.”
“Like who?” Marge asks.
“Yes, like who?” Grumpy asks, sounding like a killer.
“Ted over there,” I say, eyeing some guy and waving my huge spoon.
“Phah!” Marge says, “Ted’s ninety and can’t get it up.”
“Not helping,” I say low between my clenched teeth.
The senile troublemaker leans back towards me. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong with me?” Grumpy asks, crossing his big arms.
“He’s broken!” I say.
“I’m fixed!” Grumpy says calmly and with too much confidence.
“Was it sex? Was he bad at the sex stuff?” Marge asks way too loud.
“No,” I sigh, rubbing a temple and wishing I was invisible. “He could do that.”
“Yikes,” Marge says. “Then how is he broken? And who cares about the rest?”
I cannot believe how I got in this situation, and I shake my head in frustration.
“Look,” I say, turning to Marge. “He hurt me, and he told me to go. He needs to learn to control himself.”
“I was also wrong,” Grumpy says, as if sorry.
“And…” Marge asks, somehow now some kind of mediator.
I am about to spin with my spoon and tell the Marge-Harry show to take a hike. I am a second too long because Grumpy screws it all up.
“I can’t live without her.”
“What?” I gasp.
“And I need her to marry me!”
“No way in hell,” I huff as I spin to the idiot.
“Oh, we love weddings,” Marge says, now beaming.
“No, we hate weddings,” I say, furious.
“Look, we’re technically still engaged!”
“Not a thing,” I say, plopping potatoes down and trying to move on.
“That’s all you got?” Marge asks.
“No,” Grumpy says, distracted.
His gravy delivering is failing, and people are now blocking up. The growing audience is doing my head in, too.
In front of the room full of strangers, Grumpy looks over and crosses his arms again. “Baby, we’re going to need kids, two girls and a boy.”
“What?” I yell.
“Or two boys and a girl, if you prefer.”
“But I’m too young!” comes out before I can stop it.
“I’ll wait,” Harry says, looking down on me.
More people are gathering now, and enough is enough. I throw my ladle into the potato pot, and spinning in my non-hot apron, I give him hate-eyes.
“Look, you, me, we’re too much. We’re too intense. We don’t work, and you! You’re not a team player!”
“I’ll change more. I’ve already changed!”
I storm away into the quiet and dark area of the old building, away from the crowd. The crazy brute follows me, and I spin on him, fast. “So, what about work and being a workaholic?”
“Over. I just signed away most of my duties. I’m semi-retired.”
I huff, and I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say, so I lift my chin. “And what about living in the now?”
“Look at me,” he says, all loose, free, and easy.
He has been sprayed with gravy and my potatoes, and he looks scruffy. Even casual.
“You’re just a mess!” I huff, pissed.
“Maybe,” he says, wiping potato from his shirt, then licking it, eyes on me.
“Don’t lick your finger.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t,” I say.
“Who’s bossy now?”
He is now close and getting closer and closer. My stupid body likes it, way too much.
“Anyway, you only have work clothes! You. Are. Your. Job.”
“Then buy me clothes.”
“That’s your job, now,” I say, hands on my hips.
“It’s yours because we’re a couple.”
“Was a couple!”
“Is! Anyway, I have another job now,” the dick says, looking serious.
“Right, and what’s that?” I ask, an eyebrow high.
“Worshipping you and making you come.”
“Phah,” I huff, my defenses crumbling.
“And this,” he says, stepping closer, “loving you.”
My heart tightens fast.
“I love you, Samantha. And I’ll never love another, ever.”
I shake my head, and the dick smiles. He then licks his finger slowly. My body is already betraying me, and it craves him and his.
Huffing, I walk back to my duties serving food. The fool then walks back and joins me in silence. We start working again, and I feel confused and turned on.
Marge steps up and pulls on my sleeve before whispering low, “Jill’s daughter will be here in a minute. If you don’t take him, she will.”
My stomach tightens, and my heart skips a beat. “Get your hands off him,” I huff out fast.
My eyes find Harry’s before I can stop them. They then lock.
I start to lose all my will, and my angry energy falls away just like a burst dam.
Grumpy holds my face in his two large hands.
He then plants the juiciest kiss on me, and his tongue swirls inside, igniting me. My knees go weak, and I start to lose control. People cheer like the inside of my excited heart. I start to lose it, and I start to lose it fast.
I grab Grumpy’s head, and I moan loud. I am now bent backwards, like in some old-fashioned movie kiss.
My tongue dances with Grumpy’s as I kiss him in my non-sexy apron and my cheap, comfy sandals.
The gorgeous billionaire holds me against his hard body, and we somehow perfect the old-movie-styled kiss.
As he plunders my mouth with his tongue, my body starts to turn to jelly. We need a bed, and we will need it soon.
Finally, we come up for air, and I gasp. My mouth is bruised, and I am pumped full of blood.
“Now,” Harry says, eye-fucking me, “you’re mine, and I will not take no for an answer. I will not live without you. Not another fucking day.”
I say nothing, but I’m beaming inside.
Harry throws a big arm over my shoulder, and he kisses my blushed cheek. People clap loudly, and he leans in and smiles. “I love you, and you need to come home.”
I shake my head, smile, and feel-good inside. “Get back on the gravy, and try to keep up,” I say. “First, we’ve hungry people to feed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry says as people hoot and cheer.
I start to glow, and as I wipe a tear away, Marge smiles at me. She then gives me the thumbs up and moves along. I giggle like a very naughty girl.
I know we have made the right decision, and I also know this. I will be claimed tonight, and I will come. I also know I will do anything he commands me to do.
Because I am his.