16. Simon
There are things about me that always seem to surprise people, no matter how long they know me.
Everyone thought because I was the pretty boy who didn’t like to get dirty that I’d be horrible at football. Wrong. I was the best running back in the county my junior and senior years. I also had the best game day fits.
People think because I’m not hurting in the money department that I’m an entitled asshole. Little do they know I’ve been working since I was fourteen and give half of my money to charity. Or spend it on family and friends.
People also think because I’m the perpetual single man who has never had a serious relationship, that I must hate weddings. And those people couldn’t be more wrong. I love weddings. Open bar? Good music? A dance floor that I can take over? Now that’s my kind of night.
And tonight’s wedding is no exception. Well, wedding reception. Wedding bash? I don’t know what Oliver and Izzy are calling it, I just know it’s a damn good time.
I mean, it should be, I’m playing the music. My pre-dinner music has had people on and off the dance floor since they came in. And no one is ready for my “After the wedding cake” playlist.
“Uncle Simon! Uncle Simon!”
I look down to see my seven-year-old goddaughter, Magnolia, jumping and waving her arms for me.
“Easy there,” I say, taking a step toward her before kneeling down to her eye level. “Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?”
She shakes her head, but smiles as she does a little twirl in her pink flower girl dress. “Thank you. Do you like my dress? It has pockets!”
“I love it!” I say as I stand up. “What do you think about my suit?”
She giggles as I show off the bright pink suit I’m wearing. To match her. Because she asked me to.
I might be ruthless in real estate, but I’m a goner when it comes to this kid.
“You look silly.”
“Silly!” I pretend to overreact as I pull off some modeling moves perfected in Zoolander. “You told me to wear this!”
“I didn’t think you’d wear all pink. I love pink. But that’s a lot Uncle Simon.”
“Nonsense,” I say, kneeling back down. “There is no such thing as too much pink. I personally love pink.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Boys don’t like pink.”
I gasp. “Who said?”
She shrugs. “Boys at school.”
“Well, they just haven’t learned yet.” I lean in to whisper to her. “You tell them next time that real men not only like, but wear, pink. And don’t you ever forget that.”
She nods her head firmly. “Got it.”
“Hey,” I hurry and grab my phone. “Selfie time!”
This isn’t the first selfie I’ve taken with this child, and I hope like hell it’s not going to be the last. We have a whole album. She assumes her position, always on my right side, as we take our standard three selfies—one smiling, one silly, and one with duck faces.
I do an awesome duck face.
“Perfect,” I say, kissing her head. “Now you go and have fun while you wait for dinner to come out.”
“Okay!” She says, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Can you play my favorite song?”
“Of course. But only if you promise to save me a dance later.”
“Deal,” she says before skipping back to the dance floor. I can’t help but smile as I watch the little girl who has had me wrapped around her finger since the day I met her take over the dance floor without an ounce of fear or self-consciousness. Since dinner hasn’t been served, no one is on it right now. She doesn’t care. She’s out there shaking it off just like the song I’m playing for her says to.
She might not be my kid by blood, but she sure as hell takes after her Uncle Simon.
I make sure I have the dinner music cued and ready when out of the corner of my eye, I see someone staring at me. I don’t even have to turn my head to know it’s Charlie. I’d know that curvy body anywhere.
You’d think now that I see her every day I’d start becoming immune to it. Quite the opposite. The more I see her, the more I want to find a hidden spot so we can do all the things we didn’t get to do during our night together.
Then I remember I currently hate her. Which is really inconvenient. Because we could be having phenomenal sex.
But wait, what is she doing here? I knew that Oliver and Izzy went with her former restaurant for the food tonight, but I didn’t think she was working there anymore. She’s been in Rolling Hills every day for the past two weeks. I should know. I make sure to see her—and hound her—every day. And by the little that I can see without turning my head, she’s in her full chef gear.
“Take a picture, Bug. It will last longer.”
I see her jump a little, which of course puts a smile on my face. I pull the lapels of my pink jacket and adjust my black tie as I slowly turn toward her. Before I can approach, she’s already trying to walk away.
“Were you staring, Bug?” I say before she can get too far. “I heard that the sight of a man with a child is sexy. Do you think I’m sexy? You think I’m sexy!”
I see her let out a huff before turning back to me. “I wasn’t staring. And you’re not as sexy as you think.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “But you think I’m a little sexy?”
Her face is angry and beautiful, and I have to make myself not grab her and kiss it. The conflicting feelings that go through my head every time I’m around this woman are maddening.
“Goodbye, Simon.”
She turns to walk away, but I hurry and jump in front of her. “What are you doing here? Are you working? Why are you working? I thought you were in Rolling Hills full time now? Also you never answered if you think I’m a little sexy.”
“Why do you always ask me so many questions?”
“I’m a curious person.”
“You’re a frustrating person.”
I shrug. “Two things can be true at the same time.”
“I—” Charlie starts to speak when a man in his early thirties starts marching toward her, shouting her name at the top of his lungs. He’s short, skinny, and I can smell his Axe body spray from twenty yards.
I don’t know who this guy is, but I want to punch him.
“Charlie!” He yells, stopping beside us. “Where have you been?”
She turns to him as frustration paints her beautiful face. “I was taking a break. Is something wrong, Billy?”
Billy tries to puff out his chest, which is a futile attempt. He looks like a toddler trying to buff out.
“Everything is wrong, Charlie,” he says, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “For starters, your staff is putting out the wrong course.”
She looks over his shoulder as servers are walking around, delivering salads to each table.
“It’s the first course. Salads are the first course. What exactly is wrong?”
Billy huffs, hems, and haws as he scrambles for an answer. Who the fuck is this guy, and can I punch him yet?
“Just—just come back to the kitchen. This might be your last night, but you still work for me and I don’t appreciate you slacking. Plus, there are things we need to take care of before you leave. We can’t afford to get behind tonight.”
Yup. I’m probably going to punch him.
“Fine. I’ll be right there.”
“Yes. She’ll be right there.”
Billy apparently doesn’t appreciate my chiming in. “Who are you?”
“Simon Banks. DJ tonight. Best friend of the groom. And longtime friend of Charlie here.” I extend my hand. “And you are?”
He doesn’t say anything, instead just staring at me. He’s jealous of the suit. I can tell.
“Why are you wearing a suit you stole from Barbie?”
Oh, now he’s gone and done it. “First of all, I’d be proud to be a Ken. Two, it’s not Barbie Pink, it’s Bright Pink, you fuck. And three, you never answered my question: Who the hell are you and why are you ordering around Bug?”
“Who’s Bug?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, my sarcasm rapidly ramping up. “That’s what I call Charlie. It’s my pet name for her. She loves it.”
His face reddens. Oh. I see. He likes Bug.
Cute he thinks he has a chance. Adorable, really.
Billy ignores me and turns his attention back to Charlie. “If you want paid for your last night, you’ll be back in the kitchen in two minutes.”
He glares at me before turns sharply and storms away.
“Bye! Nice meeting you!”
Charlie slaps me on the chest. “Stop it. Ignore him and let me go back to work.”
“Sorry, Bug. Can’t do. You know I don’t like to ignore things.”
She rolls her eyes and starts walking away.
“Why are you still working?”
She turns back her head to me as she continues to power walk to the kitchen. “What?”
I grab her arm, pulling her toward a corner where we are a little more out of sight. “Why are you still working? I thought you were in Rolling Hills full time?”
She shakes her arm free. “Why do you care? Is my second job putting a damper on you harassing me every day?”
“I—” I stop myself, remembering that I need to choose my words wisely here. I can’t let the emotion of the situation make me say stupid shit.
Wow. Is this what it’s like thinking before speaking? I don’t think I’ve ever done this before.
“I just thought since you were living in Rolling Hills that you would be concentrating all your energy into the new place. That’s all.”
Her face is getting more red by the second. “Not that it’s any of your business, but some of us aren’t made of money. I couldn’t afford to not work. So I’ve been pulling double duty. And if you don’t let go of me, I won’t receive a much-needed final paycheck.”
“Fuck that. How much? I’ll give you the money.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not taking your money, Simon.”
“Why not? You’ll take his but not mine?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s different, and you know it.”
I do, but I don’t care to be rational right now. My blood is starting to boil thinking about her working all those hours. Fixing up the restaurant by herself. Why didn’t she ask for help? I mean, I know she wouldn’t have asked me. But she could have asked Emmett. He knows he can give her whatever she wants.
Note to self: Tell Emmett to offer her whatever she needs under a bullshit reason.
“Fine,” I say as I take a step back. “But you know he wants to fuck you, right? Like he’s probably going to try something before you leave.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s not. And even if he was, it’s none of your concern.”
I open my mouth to tell her it’s without a doubt my concern, but I don’t. Because it’s not. Even though I think it is. It’s not. And I know that.
She’s not mine. She never was. We were fleeting moments and one unforgettable night.
But she never was, and likely never will be, mine.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Fine,” she groans. “Now will you take your pink tuxedo ass back to your makeshift DJ booth?”
I laugh. “You love the pink, don’t you?”
“You look ridiculous.”
“You’re pronouncing sexy wrong.”
She shakes her head, but a little laugh sneaks out as she walks back into the kitchen.
But not before turning back and giving me one more glance.
And that, my friends, is what I call a win.
I’m an amazing fucking DJ.
The dance floor hasn’t been empty all night. I hate weddings when the DJ plays a great song, only to follow it with something that’s a drag.
Not me. This has been banger after banger. Even the older guests have been busting a move to what can only be classified as peak millennial hip-hop and dance music. People are going to be talking about this reception for ages.
“I hate to admit it, but you’re pretty good at this.”
I look over to Wes, who is shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you think I was going to suck? This is Izzy and Oliver’s wedding. I wasn’t going to let my best friend down.”
“Of course you weren’t,” he says. “Do you need a break? You’ve been back here all night.”
I switch the song to a ballad, because it’s been a minute since I’ve slowed it down, and I guess it is a wedding. Plus, I haven’t seen Bug since before dinner. Yes, I want to annoy her. But something also isn’t sitting right with me about Billy.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” I say. “The next few songs are cued up. If I’m not back in time, play anything that isn’t your emo rock bullshit. Actually, you know what? Don’t pretend to know what to play. Ask your kids. They’ll know.”
“I take offense to that,” he says as I move past him. “But you’re right.”
I pat him on the back and don’t even pretend to go anywhere other than straight toward the kitchen. I know I’m notallowed to go in there to check on her, but is anyone really going to stop me?
I walk through the doors only to see a quiet kitchen. A few cooks are cleaning, and some of the servers are milling around, but no sign of Bug or Billy.
I keep walking through, no one saying anything to me, when I hear a noise coming from the back office.
“What the fuck, Billy? Get away from me!”
I don’t wait. I don’t hesitate. I definitely don’t think. I just blow through the closed office door to find the slimeball trapping Charlie against the wall as she tries to push him away.
Yup. I’m going to punch him.
No. I’m going to fucking kill him.
“Get the fuck off her!” I yell, pulling him away and throwing him against a wall. My fist is cocked back when I feel Charlie’s hands on my arm.
“Simon! Don’t!”
I turn to look at her, her eyes pleading as she digs her fingers into my arm.
“Did he hurt you?”
My voice is clipped and my arm is pulsing, wanting more than anything to knock him out cold. Charlie shakes her head as she slowly lets go of me. “No. I’m fine.”
I give her one more check before turning my attention back to the weasel. I take a step toward him, which only allows me to tower over him more than I already do. “You do not, ever, and I mean ever, come near her again. Do you understand?”
“Or what? You going to do something in your pink fucking suit?”
I have to give him credit. He might be small, but his confidence is through the roof. I mean, it’s about to get him his ass kicked. But I appreciate the confidence. Kind of.
I take another step, pinning him against the wall. I watch as the confidence he had a minute ago evaporates into thin air. “Don’t fucking touch her. Never to speak to her again. Don’t contact her. Don’t think about her. Oh, and you’re going to pay her double on her last check.”
“Why would I do that?”
I tighten my hold on him, making his eyes start to bulge. “Because I’m letting you live.”
I see him gulp, and any amount of confidence he had is now gone. As it should be.
“Do you understand?”
Billy frantically nods his head as I jerk him forward by his shirt before throwing him into the wall for good measure. He slides to the ground, moaning in pain. I turn my attention back to Charlie. I don’t say anything, and neither does she, as I grab her hand and take her outside.
The crisp September air hits us as soon as we step through the door. I grab her face, assessing her for injuries, when I feel her shiver in my hold.
“Here,” I say, quickly taking off my jacket and putting it around her shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”
I know I already asked that, but for my sanity I need to hear the words again.
“I’m fine,” she says. “A little freaked out. But he didn’t touch me.”
“Thank fuck,” I say, bringing her into my embrace. I expect her to fight me. To push me away. But she doesn’t. She actually does the last thing I expect her to do—she relaxes into my hold.
Fuck, she feels good; but those thoughts need pushed to the side. She’s clearly shook up. I need to forget about our past and anything that’s happened between us recently. Right now, she needs a friend.
She needs the guy she knew all those years ago.
“Here,” I say, walking us over to a bench I see against the building. We sit down, and I don’t let her go.
I might never.
“I lied,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.
“About?”
“Billy,” she says. I think she feels me tensing up, because she quickly catches up her words. “I knew he had a crush on me.”
“Oh,” I say. “So that’s your way of saying I was right.”
She laughs under her breath, her head on my shoulder. “Yes. You were right.”
“I think those might be the four sexiest words you’ve ever said to me.”
This makes her fully laugh as she sits up, playfully smacking my chest for good measure. Which I’ll take. I might still need to know what happened all those years ago, but I need her touch more than that.
Fuck. I need her. I need her in whatever way I can have her. Having her back in my life these past few weeks has been…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel whole again. Like I’m not just going through the motions of the day.
So whether it’s as a friend, something more, or just the woman who serves me french toast every weekend, I’m going to take it. Because having any form of Charlie in my life is better than no Charlie at all.
“Thank you,” she says. “I think I could have taken him, but I’m glad I didn’t have to.”
“You absolutely could have,” I say. “What happened?”
“I’m not quite sure,” she begins. “I wasn’t feeling well today. I think it’s just exhaustion from working so much. I actually almost passed out.”
“What!”
“I’m fine,” she quickly says. “But I was lightheaded, and I felt like I was going to pass out, so I went back to the office. He followed me. At first I thought he was just helping me get my balance. Next thing I know he was pressing me against the wall.”
“That fucker,” I say, trying to stand up, but Charlie grabs my arm in time to pull me back down.
“He’s not worth it. Plus, you’ll get blood on your suit.”
I know she’s trying to make a joke, but it’s not the time. “He tried to take advantage of you while you were sick. My fist through his face should be the least of his problems.”
She shakes her head. “He’s not worth it. And I’m never going to see him again.”
“Damn right you aren’t.”
“Instead I get a different pain in the ass in Rolling Hills.”
I smile as she starts to put me at ease. “Damn right you do. And he’s much better looking. And can reach the top shelf.”
She can’t hold in her laughter.
“You’re the actual worst.” Charlie slaps my chest again, but this time I catch her hand before she can pull it away.
Our eyes lock as I take hold of it, moving it up over my racing heart. She can feel it. I can tell just by looking into her beautiful blue eyes. So many emotions are racing through them.
Confusion. Want. Need. A little hate. A lot of want.
I recognize them because I know that’s what’s going through mine.
The energy between us right now is charged in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s almost like I can feel the current pulling us together. It’s the attraction I feel every time I’m with her, only…more.
Again, I don’t think. Apparently that’s my MO tonight as I squeeze her hand against my chest and slowly start to lean in. She surprises me again by not pulling away—in fact, leaning forward as well. I can almost taste her cherry lips when the loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my life breaks the moment.
What the actual fuck…
“I’m sorry, Chef,” a teenage guy says as he hauls three garbage bags toward the dumpster. “I thought you had gone home. Billy said you left. I didn’t mean to slam the door open.”
“It’s okay,” she says, quickly standing up and taking off my jacket she’s been wearing. “I should go.”
She turns to walk away, but I grab her elbow. “Let me take you home.”
Charlie shakes her head. “I’m fine. Plus, you have a wedding to finish DJing.”
“I don’t give a shit about that.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine. Go back. Have fun. I’ll see you around.”
I watch as Charlie heads back inside, only this time, she doesn’t turn back around for one more look.